A thing is a text, art, both, or neither.
A text makes you think.
Art makes you feel.
Some rare things make you both think and feel; one will almost always precede the other, however, with one causing the other, such that the feeling that provokes the thought is arguably itself a text, and the thought that provokes the feeling is arguably itself art.
Texts are sharp blacks and whites, while art bursts in what colors are able to manifest in the mind. This becomes more pronounced when there is an imbalance between the two: feelings rot during a lack of color, while the brain, imitating the homeostatic requirements of a muscle, atrophies during a lack of sharpness.
The rest, however, do not provoke. They are the unfortunate consequence of mundanity, a world that tends to place a slew of interferences necessary to an existence that craves thought and feeling.
Left Hand, Write Hand 