Mark Rothko,  Untitled (Red on Red), 1969

Baudrillard has pushed this logic even further to draw attention to the overload of information provided by the media which now confront us with an endless flow of fascinating images and simulations...In this hyperreality the real and the imaginary are confused and aesthetic fascination is everywhere so that ‘a kind of non-intentional parody hovers over everything, of technical simulating, of indefinable fame to which is attached an aesthetic pleasure’. For Baudrillard art ceases to be a separate enclaved reality; it enters into production and reproduction so that everything ‘even if it be the everyday and banal reality, falls by this token under the sign of art, and becomes aesthetic’. The end of the real and the end of art moves us into a hyperreality in which the secret discovered by Surrealism becomes more widespread and generalized.

—Mike Featherstone, Consumer Culture and Postmodernism

Paul Henry and Prosper Henry

Nebuleuse de la Lyre, 1885

I am on the edge of the crowd, at the periphery; but I belong to it, I am attached to it by one of my extremities, a hand or foot. I know that the periphery is the only place I can be, that I would die if I let myself be drawn into the center of the fray, but just as certainly if I let go of the crowd. This is not an easy position to stay in, it is even very difficult to hold, for these beings are in constant motion and their movements are unpredictable and follow no rhythm. They swirl, go north, then suddenly east; none of the individuals in the crowd remains in the same place in relation to the others. So I too am in perpetual motion; all this demands a high level of tension, but it gives me a feeling of violent, almost vertiginous, happiness.

Gilles Deleuze and Félix Guattari, A Thousand Plateaus

Zdenek Tmej, Věra Chytilová, 1952

Encyclopedia Britannica Films, inc, Angiosperms: The Flowering Plants, 1962

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Helen Frankenthaler, Monoprint VII

The eye receives reflected light from the sun. The Eyes and Their Care. 1941.

[...] emotion, if the sense of life is inscribed therein, cannot be subordinated to any useful end. Thus the paradox of emotion is that it wants to have much more sense than it does have. Emotion is not tied to the opening of a horizon but to some nearby object, emotion within the limits of reason only offers us a compressed life. Burdened by our lost truth, the cry of emotion rises out of disorder, such as it might be imagined by the child contrasting the window of his bedroom to the depths of the night.

– Georges Bataille, “The Cruel Practice of Art”