Mr. T pities the fool who doesn’t believe in art for art’s sake.
All your plinths are belong to us.
Damien Hirst roundhouse kicked a shark so hard that the water around it turned to glass. He sold it to Saatchi as “The Physical Impossibility Of Death In The Mind Of Someone Living”.
If you had an infinite number of Jake and Dinos Chapmans at easels they would eventually produce the complete works of Goya. Only they would suck.
Not art: a urinal. Art: a signed urinal. Duchamp: a signed urinal that the admissions committe for an open exhibition refuse to accept, despite saying they’ll take work form anyone who pays the admission fee.