DADA: we eat your letters, and regurgitate our own. Dolts, Dunces, Dullards and Dumbells becoming Morons, Misfits and Multi-Media-Makers. Your Ds were deeds done in days of darkness, doom and dada de(con)struction. Our Ms are moments of MADness, a Mutually-Assured (and madder) destruction.
391 is dead, indeed!
Your Drawings were good Francis1 , but our Media is created at the speed of light. Where the Futurists perceived that speed, we calculate our own acceleration, and we record the measurements in virtual repositories that the unseen themselves will never see.
Now, the audience expects the spectacle:
it is not for us to put on a show,
but to show the audience that they are the spectacle.
We adore your Masks, Marcel2 , and wear them whenever we might be seen. Mirrored Masks are all the rage - we are reduced to infinity by staring in another's eyes. As for Marcel Duchamp, he remains as ever with a foot in both camps. We place his clay feet delicately at the base of our urinal.
D: input, observe output
M: output, observe input
The Cabaret is now a multimedia love affair, an orgasm spilling digital transfers all over the world, at every second of every day. It is always a full house, but never crowded. When the audience realise that they are the show they have come to see, they can be as outraged as your audience when they paid you to assault them with random stimuli.
The difference is, our show is free.
The difference is, free doesn't mean that it doesn't cost.
We mix the myriad audiences in mirrors of their own making. We stylize their creations and filter their fantasies through silicon-coated webs of desire. The result is a self-conscious distraction of interaction to a mathematical function, which feeds itself and maps a fractal set through the chaos of this MADimensional world.
We name that fractal 391, at all levels and none, and salute your understanding of this macroscopic migration from DADA2MADA...