Knowing the corrosive character of praises when directed to the living artist, I notice that they apply more often to a pose than to a work—when not in search of reciprocity… oh, gross!…—And, exactly for this reason, they corrode the work becoming a fundamental element of the pose, seen miserably as the artist’s element of distinction. In short: the artist finds himself dependent on applause, cutting in the work what repels them, that is, he ends up making the work also part of the pose, becoming anything but sincere. And how numerous they are! Humiliating? deplorable? What can be said of this nation of slaves of praise? I lack words…
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