I’d rather that my work be ignored and unnoticed, or noticed but not remarked on, or remarked on but misunderstood (willfully or by mistake), and yet contain in its expression some of the mystery and ineffability that is essential to art, and that, when absent from a work that poses as art, will summon itself, like a memory or a ghost, to the mind of an audience that has encountered that work, so that they are conscious, as they come away from it (provided they are attentive or engaged), of some way that the work has failed to speak to them, though they may be unable to say what that way is, and may even be glad for the distraction or amusement the encounter has provided them, than to produce work that is known and is lauded, but has nothing of mystery or the ineffable in it.