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Postmodernism. Mm, when is it over again?

© I was a teenager when I fell in love with modern. The 1960s was perhaps the absolute zenith of modernism when Western Enlightenment met Eastern philosophy, mods knocked off rockers, peace and love were effective answers to complicated problems, and music, dance, literature, art, architecture, science and technology were at their elegantly minimalist finest.   And then it was gone, demolished, or perhaps euthanized, first by Manson and Altamont, then Nixon, Watergate, a design sludge of boat-like cars, Brutalist architecture, Exxon-Mobil, blocky Spanish-style decor, Big Tobacco, the quagmire in Vietnam, Proctor and Gamble, and the Rockford Files. Modern was over. It’s hard to describe what replaced it other than “shit”.   Modernism was not only a reductionist language, it was a recombination of seminal inspirations. On the one hand it was a great cleansing, clearing away the rubble of two world wars, the heavy, suffocating Victorian and Viennese cultures of 19th century Europe and i

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