wow. scott walker continues going about being absolutely peerless, churning out material that, shucks, maybe actually deserves the pitchfork guy’s slap-dash “high-modern” assignation. it’s high modern to me kinda like di chirico or Eliot. for all the signifying this or that or whatever, no amount of recognizable imagery, no amount of form can pierce it’s hermetic, monist being-by-being-for-itself-ness. it’s so much more than human, this art… it exemplifies how abstraction can be political, and how ‘politics’ can be reduced to wallpaper via a lesser angel’s idea of verite. night-night.