Into this, structure and all, anything goes. The structure was not the point. But it was practical: you could actually see that everything was happening without anything’s being done. Before such emptiness, you just wait to see what you will see. Is Rauschenberg’s mind empty, the way the white canvases are? Does that mean whatever enters it has room? (In, of course, the gap between art and life.) And since his eyes are connected to his mind, he can see what he looks at because his head is clear, uncluttered? That must be the case, for only in a mind (twentieth) that had room for it could Dante (thirteenth-fourteenth) have come in and gone out. What next? The one with the box changed by the people who look at it.
Cage, J. (1961). Silence: Lectures and writings. Middletown, Conn: Wesleyan University Press. (107)
If there are no questions, there are no answers. If there are questions, then, of course, there are answers, but the final answer makes the questions seem absurd, whereas the questions, up until then, seem more intelligent than the answers.
Cage, J. (1961). Silence: Lectures and writings. Middletown, Conn: Wesleyan University Press. (118)