N. Dash at Mister Fahrenheit

(link)

A turd. We're so removed from nature that dirt appears as aura, spread it becomes painting. Materials: earth. "Go touch grass." Buy a painting to look at the earth. Souvenirs of a world we used to touch. Eating dirt becomes auratic experience. I've seen Waterworld. In the post-apocalypse dirt becomes money. The point we're living in it.

See too: "the anthropological remains of our dissolving physical world, distributed like catalogs of our once sensual pleasure over digital networks, ... these are about the loss of that, mourning it, our desire to once again touch things again, like all those salvaged wood paneled Brooklyn bars..."