In 1961, German artist Timm Ulrichs put himself on display inside a glass case and called himself the "first living work of art" (erstes lebendes Kunstwerk). He repeated this performance at various times throughout his career.
Artmap.com explains: "Instead of found objects, Ulrichs uses his own body. A simple and simultaneously great idea: whereas with Duchamp the producer and the work were still separated, in the case of Timm Ulrichs, the artist and the work are one and the same."
A "great idea" is one way to describe it.
Some more examples of Ulrich's art:
In 1962, Timm Ulrichs signed his own body. His name was engraved as a tattoo on his upper arm.
In 1963, he tracked his heartbeat with a stethoscope. He broadcast it on a loudspeaker and exhibited the medical record as a musical score.
In 1966, Timm Ulrichs showed the tanning of his skin as a filmic process for the first time. The covered, untanned areas of his back, in contrast to the tanned areas, slowly reveal the word “Hautfilm” [skin film].
In 1969, Timm Ulrichs became a sperm donor at the Bremen sperm bank – ironically referring to Walter Benjamin’s essay “The Work of Art in the Age of its Technological Reproducibility”.
In 1973, Timm Ulrichs ate for one year according to the average consumption of Germans, precisely observing the consumption of milk, bread, and cigarettes. Four cigarettes a day.
In 1978, using professional police equipment, Timm Ulrichs had a facial composite of his own face made.
The front yard of a Phoenix home displays campaigns signs of major candidates who have lost a presidential election, including failed candidates of yesteryear such as James G. Blaine and Winfield Hancock.
The signs are the work of artist Nina Katchadourian who calls it the "Monument to the Unelected." She's been creating it (and finding homes to host it) every presidential election cycle since 2008. On her website she explains:
Each sign was made in a design vernacular that could have come from any time in the past few decades, even if it advertised a candidate from a previous century. At a time when the country was preoccupied with the "fork in the road" moment of a major national election, the piece presented a view of the country's collective political road not taken.
Plexiglas book. Pages are laminated with collage elements embedded. Collage elements comprised of debris from smoking 50 packages, a total of 1000, of Camel cigarettes including cigarette butts, match-book covers, burnt matches, ashes, and smoke. Book is Coptic bound with various colored threads. The front cover of the book is laser-etched with the title; the back cover is laser-etched with the name of the press. Dimensions: Book 29 x 22.5 x 6 cm. Container/box 32 x 25.5 x 9 cm. Unique, one-of-a-kind.
The box cover and internal tray are made by Mark Wagner. The cover is collaged from 1/4-inch slivers cut from packages of Camel cigarettes. These cut slivers are reconstructed to form the image of the camel and desert landscape as they appear on the package of Camel cigarettes.
Inspired by peanut farmer Jimmy Carter becoming President, in 1977 Owensboro artist C.G. "Moose" Morehead used peanut butter to paint a picture of a barn — mixing the peanut butter (Jif) with oil colors. Morehead called it the "Peanut Butter Painting."
It's believed that this was the first time peanut butter was used as the medium for a painting. Jimmy Carter later signed the painting. And due to the interest in the painting, 2000 limited-edition prints were made of it, some of which can now be found on eBay. Though the prints obviously contain no peanut butter.
The Peanut Butter Painting
Owensboro Messenger-Inquirer - Feb 24, 1977
Posted By: Alex - Wed Oct 23, 2024 -
Comments (2)
Category: Art, 1970s
A recent case of art mistaken for trash. Details from Artnet news:
The LAM museum in Lisse, the Netherlands,... recently found one of its artworks in the trash, accidentally thrown out by an elevator technician who mistook it for garbage.
At first glance, Alexandre Lavet’s All the good times we spent together by (2016) appear to be a pair of empty beer cans, drunk and discarded, one slightly crushed. But closer inspection reveals that these weren’t regular beer cans—and Lavet is no readymade artist.
Instead, he meticulously hand painted the cans, creating two perfect replicas of cans of Jupiler beer. Lavet intended the piece as a tribute to memories of good times spent with friends.
The worker responsible for throwing out the art was filling in for the museum’s regular technician. That meant he wasn’t familiar with the works in the museum’s collection, which it advertises as the world’s largest museum collection of food art.
He also probably didn’t realize that the LAM museum takes delight in stashing artworks in unexpected, unconventional places. All the good times was behind glass, but not in a traditional vitrine. Instead, it could be seen inside the elevator shaft, as if it had been left behind by construction workers’ knocking off after their shifts.
Posted By: Alex - Wed Oct 09, 2024 -
Comments (3)
Category: Art
The "Ghost Parking Lot" was the 1978 creation of artist/architect James Wines. It consisted of twenty cars, placed in a mall parking lot, then buried to varying degrees, and finally covered with tarmac.
Wines explained: "this fusion of typically mobile artifacts with their environment takes advantage of people’s subliminal connections with the rituals of shopping center merchandising and the fetishism of American car culture."
But over the years the tarmac peeled off the cars and no repairs were made. So in 2003 the city decided to remove the cars. They were replaced by a Starbucks drive-thru. Wines commented, "If (the sculpture) was in a museum, it would've been preserved."
Identity theft as art. Jay Lee Jaroslav created 31 fictitious identities, backed up by official documentation such as birth certificates and social security numbers. He used the info of individuals who had died as infants as the basis for constructing these identities. To make this all seem more art-like, he turned the 31 applications for birth certificates into paintings.
He never used these identities to do anything illegal. His point seemed to be to demonstrate that it could be done.
Fine art and British Rail may not seem like they have much in common, but for several decades British Rail, through its pension fund, was a major player in the world of fine art. From the
NY Times (Apr 5, 1989):
Between 1974 and 1981, British Rail became Britain's first (and it is believed only) large pension fund to enter the collectibles market, acquiring more than $70 million worth of paintings, prints, drawings, furniture and other top-flight works to supplement more conventional investments as a hedge against inflation, which was extremely high in Britain at the time.
The pension fund began selling its art in 1986, and sold the last of it in 2003.
The Wall Street Journal reported in 1996 that the pension fund made a return of 13.1% per year on its art. Which doesn't seem bad at all. However, its stock portfolio, during the same period, returned 22% a year.
If you're looking for a coffee-table curiosity, there are several books dedicated to the artwork owned by the British Rail pension fund.
Paul Di Filippo
Paul has been paid to put weird ideas into fictional form for over thirty years, in his career as a noted science fiction writer. He has recently begun blogging on many curious topics with three fellow writers at The Inferior 4+1.