All that which does not stir you is dead art.
All that which stirs in you an old pot,
which uncovers the lid and sends up nostalgic aromas,
is an echo and thus is dead art.
All that which has been created is dead.
Art lives only in creation1
and that first burning impression2
and under fresh readings3.
(everywhere there are brands;
sometimes when you close your eyes you see a blob of color
and sometimes it is a stunning etched still life)
You can touch a painting and feel the texture of the paint.
I snuck up to the Van Gogh while the guard was in the next room.
(aloud or in perspective)
You can be anvilstruck, even by your own.
Amakuni once drew an old sword of his from a box,
suddenly overjoyed by something he had cast aside.
(Remember that methods take an implicit argument---self.)
But art is virus.
If the virus is neither living nor dead,
how then can art?
Is it simply a self-sustaining chemical reaction
which happens to involve human brains?