Art constructs novel frameworks and languages, unveiling unconsidered modes of existence—existential, contingent, and often initially weak or opaque. Its power emerges slowly through prolonged contemplation.
True art refines anti-mimetic ideas over time, resisting easy translation or quantification; once embraced, they become intuitive shorthand.
Pretending to be an artist means clinging to surface image and form without the laborious practice of channeling profound, noncompliant authenticity into a visual language. The lazy artist trades in style alone, parasitically enjoying freedoms earned by diligent predecessors; the dilettante parrots platitudes like a spoiled child.