Walter Pichler
Pneumatischer Raum, Prototyp V
1966

In the first place, capitalism is a purely cultic religion, perhaps the most extreme that ever existed. In capitalism, things have no meaning only in their relationship to the cult; capitalism has no specific body of dogma, no theology. It is from this point of view that utilitarianism acquires its religious overtones. This concretization of cult is connected with a second feature of capitalism: the permanence of the cult. Capitalism is the celebration of the cult sans reve et sans merci [without dream or mercy]. There are no “weekdays.” There is no day that is not a feast day, in the terrible sense that all its sacred pomp is unfolded before us; each day commands the utter fealty of each worshipper. And third, the cult makes guilt pervasive. Capitalism is probably the first instance of a cult that creates guilt, not atonement. In this respect, this religious system is caught up in the headlong rush of a larger movement. A vast sense guilt that is unable to find relief seizes on the cult, not to atone for this guilt but to make it universal, to hammer it into the conscious mind, so as once and for all to include God in the system of guilt and thereby awaken in Him an interest in the process of atonement. This atonement cannot then be expected from the cult itself, or from the reformation of this religion (which would need to be able to have recourse to some stable element in it), or even from the complete renouncement of this religion. The nature of the religious movement which is capitalism entails endurance right to the end, to the point where God, too, finally takes on the entire burden of guilt, to the point where the universe has been taken over by that despair which is actually its secret hope.

Walter Benjamin, Capitalism as Religion

Paul Kos
Sound of Ice Melting
1970

Paul Klee
Was fehlt ihm? [what's the Matter with Him?]
1930

Mathias Goeritz
Fuente y Celosia
Hotel Camino Real
1968

My dreams are mostly a liquid. I am immersed in sorts of nauseous waters where blood-red films toss and turn. I never rise up to the level of certain impressions, whether in my dreams or in real life. I am never settled in the continuity of my life. My dreams are offered no escape, no refuse or guide. Truly the rankness of my severed limbs.
Besides, I am too resigned about my thought to be interested in anything that goes on in it. I ask for one thing only: to be locked away in my thought for good.
And as to the physical appearance of my dreams, I told you, a liquid.

Antonin Artaud, 'The Bad Dreamer', from Collected Works (Volume 1)

Isamu Noguchi
Chase Manhattan Bank Plaza
1961-1964

Encyclopedia Britannica, Flowers at Work, 1956