Postmodernism saw modernism as something behind us, without which we would not be where we arrived, which was the end of the road. Modernism terminated at an unpaved expanse of inspiring wherever, with nothing limiting travel in any direction.
Yet, every direction postmodern traveled, however exuberantly, led nowhere in particular, and the inspiration evaporated.
Pure, unbiased, self-disinterested, dispirited altruism is laid out in 144-lane strips from all three centers of the United States, across the pointless peripheries dividing them.
But these new superhighways lead nowhere anyone can want to be.
But nobody expects to want. The roads are trudged in obedient lockstep. Post- Post- Post- Post-.
Alt-modernism sees modernism as we traveled it as one road among many. And while one of those roads led to nowhere, perhaps others led somewhere.
Who says we cannot retrace some of our steps, or cut across open terrain, and try other roads? Who says we cannot make progress in some other untried directions which might lead somewhere promising?
The old roads lead where they have always led. They will take us nowhere good.