There are key quotes in the book that signal this idea of radical unity. For example, even though you might not think about Paul Cézanne’s paintings in terms of the idea of a network per se, he makes a fascinating remark to his friend Joachim Gasquet, “The landscape thinks itself in me and I am its consciousness.” Cézanne imagines his body as quite literally melded to the natural world, joined with it in a primal form of connection. He expresses this aspiration, for example, in The Large Bather, on view at the Museum of Modern Art in New York: a body whose outlines and flesh take on the colors and formations found in the landscape, bound together in ways quite unique to his vision, in which the network of very different elements are linked through hue, torqued angles, and fusions of forms. Or, in an entirely different way, Walter Gropius, the founder of the Bauhaus—the art school that is still the model for countless institutions across the world more than one hundred years after its founding in Weimar, Germany, in 1919—proclaimed that his new school would be a “crystalline expression in a great Gesamtkunstwerk. And this great total work of art, this cathedral of the future, will then shine with its abundance of light into the smallest objects of everyday life.”In each of the book’s chapters about these monumental figures in the history of modernism, there are these moments of decisive declaration. We read and see instances of this powerful yearning for something that makes the world cohere, that redresses the traumas of their times, personal and societal, through extraordinary insights and creativity.I’ve tried to lay out this history as a bulwark, in some ways, against the divisiveness of our own societal challenges, of the aggressions and political upheavals we all face now, and the alienation that these upheavals (including technological ones) are causing. If we can learn from the past that there isn’t only fragmentation in our lives, despite wars, authoritarianism, and the negatives of technology, but also in light of the potential to connect, to unify, to imagine wholeness, then what interdisciplinary art represents is a model for tolerance among differences of every kind. Between the historical chapters of the book, I’ve included prose poems I’ve written about each of the senses, as the fact of installation art and performance art is that they take place in space, and what is so engaging about these forms of expression is the way they palpably engage the senses. These works attempt to integrate the audience into them, creating a network of material and sensual connections. It seemed to me that the best way to integrate the idea of integration into the book was through very personal accounts of the senses. And further to this, I include a chapter devoted to philosophies and theories about space—specifically about the way our bodily experience of space shapes our sense of self in the world and how we negotiate space individually and as societies. It’s a dense book, I know, but I hope that seeing modernism through contemporary eyes, through this notion of network aesthetics, is useful to scholars, students, and artists who might gain something for their own practices through this understanding of modernism, as well as to cultural theorists and to philosophers engaged with art past and present.