In a complex, non-linear, counter-intuitive world described by quantum physics and holding super computers (not to mention the global market, of course) is there not, today, a great demand for the story telling artist, for artists that supply linearity, intuitive structures and simplicity (even stupidity)? At the same time, art itself, in all its seemingly random multiplicity, appears to mirror this worldly complexity, certainly, when looked at from a distance. Yet however drifting and unoriented art currently appears to be, however abstract and confusing, there is still an overarching feeling that art is valuable to us as humans. Even if, today, the artwork can merely supply us with non-meaning, non-faces, non-orientation, non-art, we value it in some strange way, perhaps for daring to struggle with the substance that makes up our epoch, or perhaps precisely for not having to struggle with it. Beyond satisfying our individualistic desire for the myth of the one, the genius etc. (a myth which in our time can merely be the veneer of a whole world of hidden collaborations, ideas theft and anonymous production) what does art inspire in us?  What will people be inspired by in future? The stories of an individual’s genius? What myth replaces the “rags to riches” story? What will be the future definition of the imagination? After the myth of complete aimlessness, after post-modernism, will we return, for example, to a sort of middle-age harmony between the crafty individual and the wholesome collective?