Reinhardt’s dictum of his as the last paintings taken as a challenge rather than rhetoric, certain artists since race to end painting in an escalating torture-porn of it, sending their innocent child paintings to be forcibly taken in all the imaginative ways of the market, ready to prove - by forcible insertion - its shiny new neo-liberal critique to teach it know better, horror as ethics. Thing was Krebber had already proved you could have your burrito and eat it too, even if the press release doesn’t believe it, and that mocking Murillos “burrito” painting’s market ascension after the same artist later went on to stand up and lecture the bourgeois paying his way, however meaningless itself, seems a petty game more concerned with demonstrations of the cold depths of out-nihilising the other, a Baudrillard-like shift moving from productive critique of Marxism to a hyperbolic rhetoric of endgame, immanetizing the eschaton, hell on earth.
