Us, Here, Now i.m. Gustav Metzger, 10/4/1926-1/3/2017 There is no art in it: the polish of the jackboot, a boy fleeing into a forest, a lifetime of indignation. And there’s no art in truculent belligerence, slavish consumerism, or the externalities of pollution. Nor, indeed, is there art in ignorance, ill-gotten gains, violation of others’ rights or the obliteration of the past. Things crack and fall apart into nothingness, minds are broken and undone, art is pain, a weapon, a memory. Philip Dunkerley