Art is not consciousness per se, but rather its antidote — evolved from within consciousness itself.fog. thick fog. and each crow knows his place larger than before. throws his black chest out before him a perpetual carpet oddly invisible against the invisible world. by degrees: one crow on a line, a clef, one crow in snag, a glyph, one crow through the air, his beak open, sound nowhere.
sontag wrote, "Art that is 'silent' constitutes one approach to this visionary, ahistorical condition." and, "A stare is perhaps as far from history, as close to eternity, as contemporary art can get."
wrote, not said.
the crow has not unhitched himself from history. the world has done it for him, does this.
find yourself gliding over the chasm. find yourself lost. then larger perhaps, who knows, but found.
where you always were.
open your eyes, your mouth.
*“The Aesthetics of Silence” (1967) Susan Sontag