Unnamed ones

Has the work fallen in love with order? With a new order, one unafraid of being destroyed, for it trusts that order is transitive, changeable, and immortal. Constant change, reorganization, the permanent structure within any body. The object is created or named under functions and aesthetics, used, imbued with history, with seconds, moments, it is abandoned, but it remains, it continues to have an order, whether the original, the initial, or one different from what time itself has caused. Then it falls into obsolescence, where it may be dismembered or intervened by the weight of abandonment. The work takes it but does not revive it because it has never died, perhaps its structure has changed. Now it is a canvas, as a canvas has always been a monochromatic object. Now it is a painting, one with volume, as always. Now the object remains what it is, but it is poetry, neither more nor less.