Slouches toward Bethlehem to be born?
-William Butler Yeats
I love John's mind, but I don't like what it thinks.
-Pierre Boulez
I remember once, in my college days, going with friends to a posh art gallery in Chicago. Down the middle of the gallery floor were piles of dirt and stone. We drifted past, reaching down to touch the piles. We thought we’d come too early, that the show wasn’t yet up, and the gallery was still under construction. I’d been to Chicago’s Art Institute many times, so I knew what art looked like, and this gallery had no art.
