grids re-invented as neo-modernist signifiers - as post-conceptualist postulates
those aporetic spaces | that dodge lightly | between the rigid | black lines | of their axes express a subtle | yet confined freedom | whose slippery oxymoron | quietly howls in its cage how can this be? | what can it mean? | is this what Piet wanted? | or what Ludwig craved? can those grids | in their various guises | that frame or contain | restrict or release converge or disperse | express or deny | describe or conceal | guide or defy survive or escape the repeated rehearsals | the fugal replays | of worn modernist myths? while they refuse to let go forego | their elegant hold | their photogenic grip | an addiction for the obsessive eye | resisting perennial death | like durable ghosts | indestructible harbingers of a generic mindset | neat unambiguous | with stealthy finesse | at the same time both crisp and crass | depending upon whether | you are Agnes Martin | Or Rosalind Krauss whole cities are nurtured | on their discipline | but restrained | by their impositions. Theo van Doseburg | Ludwig Mies van der Rohe | Philip Johnson | Piet Mondrian | & Walter Gropius | built whole careers | hooked on their addictive racks | postmodernism their nemesis | came to fold them | distort them | decorate them | with its eclectic confections deconstruct them | with its labyrinthine arguments | and its semantic contortions | dethrone them with its wavy-gravy concoctions | still the grids persist | maintain a stance | grist to digital shifts | riding a retro wave | of architectural fashion | their rhythms | an angular dance | that shimmies to new tunes | shapes moves to trigger new paradigm shifts |confounding the foundering pluralist putsch | slickly advancing | stealthily settling in | for the longer post-conceptual haul
courtesy: isms and ists inc.