When the flush of a newborn sun fell first on Eden's green and gold,Our father Adam sat under the Tree and scratched with a stick in the mold; And the first rude sketch that the world had seen was joy to his mighty heart, Till the Devil whispered behind the leaves: "It's pretty, but is it Art?" (Rudyard Kipling)
Contemporary is the one who keeps his eye fix on its time to perceive not light, but darkness. Contemporary is the one who receive on his face the ray of darkness which comes from its time.(Giorgio Agamben)