Today's art world is a very well mapped-out universe consisting of a few thousand leading galleries.
We Boomers don't like anyone taking the piss out of us. We worked very hard to get where we are and we take seriously the concepts of global warming, unemployment and migration.
What non-violent response can there be to the violence and hatred, the killings and the dispossession, the endlessly cruel siege of Gaza, the thuggery of settlers and the Netanyahu rants?
Either the project is thought to be politically tainted, or to be pointless, or to be something that is not relevant to Australia.
What we get in these descriptions is the blood driven response of a man towards a woman, the very essence of sexual relationships.
The point of this piece has little to do with Mr Bowie
per se (whom I think might have agreed with at least some of it) and everything to do with our response to his passing.
Tangling sharply against these kinds of ideas was a young Tony Abbott who, as a student, seemed under constant threat from radical university peers.
Today even lesser known artists maintain factory style production for their galleries and collectors. Their pieces are even booked in advance in massive quantities.
Publishing is not something you can do without research and hard work - and, irritatingly, it is getting in the way of writing. But for the moment at least, it seems the only way for me to go.
When Tommy Wieringa tried to argue that the boat people crossing the Mediterranean needed to be stopped boarding the boats the silence was deafening. I doubt if he will be attending another Sydney Writers Festival.
No composer has embraced that challenge as eagerly as Tan Dun, whose submission to the Olympic ceremony is a radically bathetic pop ballad entitled One World, One Dream.
Why do we feel like our bodies are already public property? And if we already feel this way in 'real' life, why not use our bodies and at least make some cash?