(yes, dialogue, because monologues always sound suspiciously like dialogues, and that makes me angry)
What defines art? (step step, pant, huff) Fuck if I know. (step step) Art is, of course where art is. Literally, it's in a frame. (trip, cough, huff) It's in a gallery, or under some rich guy's roof. (pant, wince) It's in cardboard boxes in the back of closets. (step, step, stomp) It's usually found in frames. (sigh, gasp) I think, though, art is where it's not, and that's a good place to start in an attempt to define it. (step, huff, walk).
Art is where, it's not confined. It's not criticized for the sake of criticism. It's not used as a tool. It's not looked for. It's not required. It's not understood entirely. It's not made for you. It's not fair. It's not loved. It's not expensive. It's not noticeable. It isn't like everything else. It's not safe. It's not believed. It's not sure. It's not forgotten, but not remembered clearly either. It's not too much of anything. It's not enough. It's not reflective or deflective or re-directive or receiving. It's not trusted. It's not righteous. It's not always comfortable. It's not what it was. It's not produced. It's not completely original. It's not owned. It's not consumed. It's not what it will be. It's not easily destroyed, but still fragile. It's not just art. It's not just anything. It's not defined. Art is where it's not. It's not where art is, or what it is. I feel like art is. (pant, trot, run, huff)
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