“We are shown how to fashion masks of ennui and jaded irony at a young age where the face is fictile enough to assume the shape of whatever it wears. And then it’s stuck there, the weary cynicism that saves us from gooey sentiment and unsophisticated naivete” David Foster Wallace — Infinite Jest   I stand in Christiana, a Freetown commune founded in a deserted … Continue reading The Price of Art