It's art because *others* say so. The artist's opinion as to what their art means is no more important that the opinion of anyone else.
The highest art reveals the art and conceals the artist, and yet the artist (being forced to use an imperfect medium) is doomed to reveal themself as opposed to the subject.
When it comes to analysing this particular artpiece, one confronts a veritable dilemma: either reject cultural situationism or draw the conclusion that the musical interplay of the bicycle may be used to oppress the proletariat, but only if realism is invalid; if that is not the case, narrative must come from the individual - the freudian slave who we see toiling perpetually at this bicycle, set against the backdrop of a white Debordist infinity.
The highest art reveals the art and conceals the artist, and yet the artist (being forced to use an imperfect medium) is doomed to reveal themself as opposed to the subject.
When it comes to analysing this particular artpiece, one confronts a veritable dilemma: either reject cultural situationism or draw the conclusion that the musical interplay of the bicycle may be used to oppress the proletariat, but only if realism is invalid; if that is not the case, narrative must come from the individual - the freudian slave who we see toiling perpetually at this bicycle, set against the backdrop of a white Debordist infinity.