Americans May Have No Identity, But They

As The End Of The Century Approaches, All Our Culture Is Like The Culture Of Flies At The Beginning Of Winter. Having Lost Their Agility, Dreamy And Demented, They Turn Slowly About The Window In The First Icy Mists Of Morning. They Give Themselves A Last Wash And Brush-up, Their Oscillated Eyes Roll, And They Fall Down The Curtains.

Every Photographed Object Is Merely The Trace Left Behind By The Disappearance Of All The Rest. It Is An Almost Perfect Crime, An Almost Total Resolution Of The World, Which Merely Leave The Illusion Of A Particular Object Shining Forth, The Image Of Which Then Becomes An Impenetrable Enigma.

One Has Never Said Better How Much "humanism", "normality", "quality Of Life" Were Nothing But The Vicissitudes Of Profitability.

So-called "realist" Photography Does Not Capture The "what Is." Instead, It Is Preoccupied With What Should Not Be, Like The Reality Of Suffering For Example.

Information...exhausts Itself In The Staging Of Meaning...[and Leads] Not At All To A Surfeit Of Innovation But To The Very Contrary, To Total Entropy