Dead art is alive,
but not the kind of alive that you think.
Dead art makes me smile,
with a smirk.
What is Dead Art?
That which is unalive!
Art makes me feel
a little uncomfortable, a little nervous, a little apprehensive,
when it's good.
But what is not good?
Bad poetry about art.

Jackie Winsor, Green Piece 1976-77.

We were fresh out of an art criticism program, but somehow we felt a

little stale. Not the fuzzy-mould stale, but the kind where you can
turn it into croutons or french toast. This resulted in misplaced

efforts, like pitching art history essays to contemporary art
magazines. I guess we shouldn’t have been surprised when the editors replied, 
“our publication prefers to focus on things a little more current”. 
But did that stop us? No. If anything it spurred us on. We
found ourselves sneaking into university libraries (with our now
expired student cards) and going to museums, while our peers questioned
“aren’t museums no longer relevant?”

Amy and Sagan = Dead Art Now