New Renaissance: The Coming Israeli Occupation of the Esthetosphere.

Art is dead. Long live Post Art. Art was mortal, but the hunger for art lives on. Art continues to be produced, but not great art. There is no more great art left to be produced. There will be no more Mozart, Beethoven, Shakespeare, Tolstoy, Michelangelo, Leonardo, El Greco, Correggio, Tintoretto, Tiepolo, Rembrandt, Vermeer, Ingres, Delacroix, Goya, Degas, Van Gogh. It is all over. Even the idea of great art has been abandoned by artists as elitist and uninclusive.

Art is dead. Long live Post Art. Post Art will take the place of art and feed the hunger for great art. Art was sensory. The sensory is finite. The sensory is rooted in our animal past. Our hunger for seeing bright colors is rooted in our hunger for brightly colored, life giving, fresh fruits and vegetables, tomato red, orange orange, lemon yellow, spinach green, blueberry blue and plum purple. Our hunger for graceful lines is rooted in our hunger to mate with and pass our genes on to the graceful lines of naked fifteen year old girls hunting and gathering in the meadows. I know nothing about the lines of naked fifteen year old boys because I am not wired that way. Art is sensory. The sensory is animal. The animal is finite. My cat just looks at me funny when I read poetry to her.

The entry way to post art is psalm 1. I says that the torah is delightful. Wow. I See the delightful lines of the girl in the meadow with my eyes. My ears tell me her voice is also delightful. She offers me one of the raspberries she has been gathering. They smell delightful. They taste delightful. I will not discuss her kiss. It is none of your business. With what sense organ do I experience the delightfulness of the torah? How many colors are on the palette of the torah from which post art is painted? There can be no end to them, for there can be no end to the realm of the torah. Israel can walk into the esthetosphere and set up camp, roast wieners, play the guitar, wash some underwear and hang it up on a tree to dry in the delightful sun (it is january as I write this). No one will contest this occupation. They are all too busy contesting the occupation of the surface of the Earth. Just like animals. My cat does this. But when she does it, it is kind of cute.