Reality trumps normalcy.
And so life is art, and the unveiling of the ineffable. This is why art moves us – it’s not so much the revelation of something new, a new ground we must take, as it is a return to things we already deeply know.
Art is, then, a kind of homecoming. But art that, for the sake of the artist’s ego, tries to take us to a foreign place for the sake of isolating and belittling our relative abilities, is creative narcissism. It doesn’t serve us, it robs from us.