have our legs become equipped to trace the assumed route through the gallery/museum space with a speed parallel to the stair climber we climb, the treadmill that runs us? "stationary" bike seems an oxymoron; moving without movement, labor with no production.
is the speed of our bodies and the speed of our minds as we encounter artworks giving us a sales pitch experience of the work before us? can our minds handle bends in the road, twists in the construction of the work, or will our speed send us not around the curve of the mountain, but shoot us off of it, into another direction, further away from the source and into the distance. it is from a distance then that the fuzzy of far-away becomes reduced to a single sign value, a solitary, one-liner interpretation. a condensed marketing statement that speaks on behalf of the work, the new docent or audio tour for the experience of art.
tuned now into a bite-sized, condensed interpretation/interaction, our bodies and minds become reprogrammed, hot-wired by the artists/gallery owners that "got it" before us --- suddenly, one-liner art emerges as the triumphant hero to those missing the days of minimalism and other "high" notions of art. the one-liner program becomes a formula: true and tested in the laboratory studios of fine art programs. if you get it, you get in. formalism reigns as the king promoter of the one-liner formula, the agent and patron to the 'now' generation of "get-its," TRL-ready young artists. american artists are perfecting the form the YBAs began over a decade ago, but are reaching new anti-levels as they have removed all of the sardonic wit or cultural layerings the YBAs could not yet eradicate from their style.
our generation's greatest contribution is subtraction. we have perfected the art of subtraction without lifting a finger. that is genius. that is the genesis of the one-liner. that is what sells, baby. Pleasure!