​​​​​​​How to create art in times in which the art scene rather seems to face a return of iconophobia?
What to do? Is it a question of present absence or of cowardly presence? To walk along the artistic path, in between the graveyards of the Old Europe, during the first days of a glowing new millenium, draging along the weight of a horrible history, like the prisonner his heavy globe … what does it means? What does it means if we repeat the words of Balzac, saying “art is the retoric of the promise”?
— Joannes Késenne
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