There's a point where all of the trendy new art/literature/architecture/fashion just congeals into a scary, semi-lucid Old Navy commercial.

See also: Dwell Magazine, Colin Self, Michael J. Yates, and this


See because, this stuff now? It's not challenging. It's not interesting. The American intelligentsia is just boorish. Everything is a perfume commercial and it makes me want to take a long drive in the country, stare at all of the trees and the boats with tarpaulins pulled across their dry hulls, and think about what in the world Enda Walsh has to do with the world.