Both art and fashion speak in a densely encoded visual language to a certain status, knowledge and taste. Roughly translated, that means an elitism that makes those who know the difference between, say, James Turrell and Olafur Eliasson (or, for that matter, between Prada and Lanvin) feel secure in their defense of social Darwinism.
Yes, I am at the top of the social Darwinist ladder due to my knowledge of this shit which means nothing in the grand scheme of things.
(Yet as noted in a previous post I am still going to see the Olafur Eliasson show at the San Francisco Museum of Modern Art.)
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