"The self attempts balance, descends. Perfume - the air was to stink of artists' egos. Himself, quickly torn to pieces. His tongue in his cheek."
I love the poetic quality of this opening paragraph. In my mind referencing the title of Duchamp's work 'Nude descending a staircase'. But also thinking of an artist attempting balance.
"He declared that he wanted to kill art ('for myself ') but his persistent attempts to destroy frames of reference altered our thinking, established new units of thought, 'a new thought for that object. ... He has changed the condition of being here.'"