Works are born by the millions in the artists' studios. Once they have become images, they are plunged into the ocean of the Internet where they gravitate like living organisms and fulfill their destiny as a medium for lives, thoughts and bodies. This enlarged communication, crossed by dissonances and fragmentation, does not cease to duplicate its components, as would nature itself in the profusion of its creations. The entropy and the chaos which govern the natural world are also accompanied by settings in order and devices constantly rearranged of regulation where the signs of the origin are swallowed up. If the image is a form of life, this one frees itself from its matrix, the workshop, and dissociates itself from the creative being who produced it as a work. The oblivion of the workshop is the condition of the image. But it is also the oblivion of the work and the overcoming of the bodies and the "innumerable thoughts" of the artists. The anxious sonnet that Michelangelo writes testifies to a consciousness on the lookout that measures the ineluctable dissociation of the work that has become an image (that is to say, an inactivated clone) and the loss of the work's living being (or of its aura, as Benjamin would have said). The visitors of museums recognize the known images, and that is enough for the satisfaction of the majority. So, they say to themselves, what exists exists. The work is only the preliminary image of all the images realized of this work: reproductions, copies, replicas.