“Art is useless. Art can only inspire more art. It spreads like disease, like virus. It repeats itself. Art is bad code and dumb math. And it is all swallowed up eventually by time or by money.
Art dies, Garrett, or becomes an investment. It is one of the two.
It dies or is killed. Your art is bad and would die a long death. But I helped you, I killed it, before others had to stand in a room and watch it die.
Galleries, this gallery, Garrett, is a hospital for dying art. No one wants to be in it. But because they love art, and maybe love you, they gather to mourn, to speak in hushed tones, to come together and erect, for a short time, a vigil. But all that this group of mourners really wants, Garrett, is for the patient to die.”