Chaos, If It Does Not

Today, The Notion Of Progress In A Single Line Without Goal Or Limit Seems Perhaps The Most Parochial Notion Of A Very Parochial Century.

A Multitude Of Uniform, Unidentifiable Houses, Lined Up Inflexibly, At Uniform Distances, On Uniform Roads, In A Treeless Communal Waste, Inhabited By People Of The Same Class, The Same Income, The Same Age Group, Witnessing The Same Television Performances, Eating The Same Tasteless Prefabricated Foods, From The Same Freezers, Conforming In Every Outward And Inward Respect To The Common Mold.

The Humanities And Science Are Not In Inherent Conflict But Have Become Separated In The Twentieth Century. Now Their Essential Unity Must Be Re-emphasized, So That Twentieth-century Multiplicity May Become Twentieth-century Unity.

Geneva Has The Sleepy Tidiness Of A Man Who Combs His Hair While Yet In His Pyjamas.

Stieglitz Conceived, Though He Never Carried Out, A Series Of Photographs Of The Heads Of Stallions And Mares, Of Bulls And Cows, In The Act Of Mating, Hoping To Catch In The Brute An Essential Quality That Would Symbolize The Probably Unattainable Photograph Of A Passionate Human Mating.