A tale of two grids: a sidewalk grate vs. "a Damien Hirst." (I need better photos.)
In one you see order imposed on littered cigarette butts, clogging the subway's respiratory system. In the other you see a medicine cabinet turned into a designer display by Hirst's production department. The "found" grate speaks to the everyday, right there on the sidewalk; the factory-made Hirst speaks to a sense of refinement that admires exclusivity, packaging and branding.
Artists like Hirst communicate like luxury brands. Big time artists do not have to be like Hirst. Gabriel Orozco has always impressed me with things like: pictures of juxtapositions he's found (set up?) in the everyday world; understated alterations that unlock dynamic visual relationships in simple magazine photos; and sculpture that can turn inward like sea shells, draw patterns in space like sheet music, or sit calmly with its negative-space shadow -- the mold used to make it.
His work is generous in its deadpan demonstration of the ready availability of the artistic experience, the impulse to see everyday things in a new way.
Hirst communicates like TV, treating viewers' minds as shallow receptacles. Orozco communicates like a guide, pointing the way to a place he's found interesting, treating viewers' minds as he would his own.
One way inspires celebrity worship, the other active observation.
(It's a long way from making some art that demonstrates the thought, but at least saving this "idea" years ago prompted me to spell it out.)