Compositions are supposed to be whole and that’s what differentiates old and new schools in art. As we developed our intellects and as an unfortunate by-product lost our capability to be integral, our art became fractional. Admittedly, taking things apart is a prerequisite of synthesis and the sketches of classic artists give alluring insight into their creative process. But never before did we stop at various stages of decomposition, never before did we call a messy construction, or rather demolition, site art. Neither was art in the olden days an excuse to celebrate and parade brokenness, illness, decay. Multitudes of traits and variation in art are indeed enriching when composed into a harmony, but cacophonies of disintegrating and discordant pieces are mere manifests of atrophy. Fallible, imperfect, incomplete we may be, but our aim and art’s purpose should be the mending this condition, not its celebration, and especially not an orgy of debasement. So this is where old and new art goes separate ways. But then again, everything goes in cycles and we’re running out things to desecrate, so there’s hope…