Ludicrous?

External voice: Ludicrous would be giving the Artist too much credit. Unimportant and meaningless would be better. The Artist continues to etch through the paint into the gold beneath, and does so regularly and with conviction, as though there will be a spectacular moment of revelation upon the completion of the work. A golden forest stands upon white, created with patterns of curling and useless intricacy, dizzying the eye, a redundant throwback to Celtic abstractions that symbolised a deeper significance than that of the absurd arrival of the empty forest of gold. What zeitgeist can it grasp? Or what zeitgeist can grasp it? 

None to speak of, and none are spoken of, as the spirit of the times waxes silent and mysterious, though it is not mystery that defines it. Electrolysis pulses rampant through the screens and begs for the attention of it's viewers, a veritable hive-mind grows inwardly stretching out through the burgeoning consciousness of the youth growing into the hyperlinks and terrabytes of the lived and programmed... and the Artist draws a tree, a golden tree among other golden trees. It is justified then, that derision be directed toward the moral high ground that the Artist purports to live and dully expresses so dutifully and systematically, whilst stripping his freedom and imagination bare of colour and the vibrancy of chance and passion. Reverence is not kitsch, and so commend the work to the cellar and search for more meaningful resonances of our time.