Themes in Contemporary Art

Even as an artist, I was skeptical of much of contemporary art. I wouldn’t call myself nearly as innovative, forward-thinking or avant-garde as the artists that I’ve discussed. I would argue that makes these artists more creative than the classical artists of several centuries ago. Expectations and paradigm of art has changed. We are no longer seeking out artworks that are merely meant to be looked at, but pieces that are meant to start a discussion. These expectations are going to continue to change and be challenged. There’s no telling what direction art will go in next.

As much as it seems that art lies in a separate world from mainstream society, art and the everyday have been intermingled more than ever. With Marcel Duchamp’s appropriation of readymade objects in the early 20th century, the everyday has been integrated into art. And ever since the Pop Art movement in the 1960’s, art has become integrated with everyday life. Art has been used as a way to reach the general public, to inform people of an idea. Art is no longer just for the wealthy that can afford it or meant to be accessible only to people within this upper class demographic. These themes that have been discussed – time, space, identity, the body, and ritual– are topics that are relevant to everyone. Everyone has a body, and thus everyone can physically relate to space and the world around them. Artists’ works are becoming increasingly integrated with society and are meant to bring awareness to all aspects of life.

Contemporary art is a reflection of our current time. It contributes to our culture and our culture contributes to it Art has embraced a wide range of materials, forms, styles and addresses a diverse set of topics and issues. As a viewer, you, or anyone, can contribute to contemporary art. If we keep our minds open to understand and discuss art, we become part of the artworld public. We can become critics. We can contribute the art that will be passed on to define our generation.

Imagining Janine Antoni and Stelarc in a Debate About the Body

When I had learned about Janine Antoni and Stelarc, it was curious to me that they were both body artists who used their own bodies in their work yet were so completely different. Stelarc's work shocked me, and in an interview, Janine Antoni described her work as extreme. I began to wonder what would happen if Anotni and Stelarc had a discussion about their work and their viewpoints on the body. This is what my mind came up with.

Today we’ve been lucky enough to speak with two well-known and respected artists, Janine Antoni and Stelarc, about their views on the body and its prevalence in their works. Antoni uses her body in her works as a way to relate to the world around her. Stelarc is well known for his avant-garde and futuristic view on the body, blending together his own body and technological advances in his work. They will be speaking with each other, discussing their own viewpoints and how their perspective has influenced their work.

Both of use focus on the body in your works. What has led you to the focus on such topic, and how does your perspective appear in or influence your work?

Antoni: I’ve always focused on the process of making my works, and how my body becomes part of the process in the art making. In that way, my body has become a tool. These extreme acts that I do with my body and my experience in my own body is something that the viewer can sort of relate to, as they have a body too. My work not only focuses on our own human bodies but how we relate to other beings. It’s interesting to view animals and have some sort of intimate relationship with them. They too have bodies.

Stelarc: My work focuses on the idea that the human body is obsolete. I’m interested in exploring what the body can do, what can be done with and to the body, and what the body can become. What I share with the viewer isn’t the experience of having a body, but having this biological structure that pushed to great limits. We’ve developed technology that can be used to redesign the body and its functionality. We live in an age where we’ve already blurred the line of what it means to have a body and what is natural. We can grow stem cells, engineer organs, and keep a comatose body alive. I use my own body in my works see how we improve upon the body.

Antoni, it’s interesting to hear you call your works “extreme.” You often call your performances tender acts. Why do you consider yourself extreme? Your works are much more tame in comparison to Stelarc’s. And Stelarc, do you ever feel like your works are too extreme? How do you feel about the viewer’s responses? I’m sure that many people are shocked by your work.

Antoni: Sure. My works aren’t extreme in the same way as Stelarc’s work. He focuses more on what can be done to the body; I want to explore what can be done with the body. I want to alter how people view the body, without altering the body. The extremity of my work and performances come from doing unusual things with my body to explore an idea. It’s not so much of physical pushing my body to its absolute limits, but pushing our perception of our bodies to its limits. In my work, Loving Care, I soak my hair in Loving Care hair dye, get on all fours and mop the floor with my hair. I used my body in an abnormal, an even physical uncomfortable way, to explore ideas of feminity and identity. I feel like viewer’s can relate to simple acts such as this and understand the discomfort of such an act, only with understanding the submissiveness of such pose.

Stelarc: I’m not extreme for the sake of being extreme or for pure shock value. My intentions are to get to viewer thinking about what is possible with the technology we have at hand today. In fact, I would argue that my ideas are not that extreme. These technologies aren’t new. We do extreme things everyday already with the technology we have. We can use these technologies to extend the operations of our body.

Both of you use your own body in your works and have mentioned that your body is tool. How do you both view and use the body as a tool?

Stelarc: The body isn’t so much of a tool as it is a machine or a structure with pure functionality. The body is a sort of evolutionary architecture, and is a means of operating and moving throughout the world.

Antoni: I don’t feel like the body needs to be modified or redesigned. I feel that the body that we have can already be used to do so much. There is a certain beauty in what we can already do with our body and what we can do as humans. There are so many ideas regarding the body that are either taken for granted or are unexplored. My piece Eureka from 1993 was inspired by Archimedes, who discovered that he could figure out capacity when he used his body to displace water in the bathtub. The body can be used as a tool for experiment, and we can come to knowledge and understanding by using our body.

Stelarc: I don’t view the body as a way to gain knowledge, but I view knowledge and our technological advances a way to improve upon the body. The body becomes a sculptural medium for exploring the limits to which we can push our body. I’ve done several body suspension performances over the years, placing hooks in my skin and suspending myself in air. The skin then becomes a support for the body, and my body becomes just a sculpture within the space.

You’ve expressed how you view the body and what you’ve done with your body. But what do you hope to achieve through your works? What do you want the viewer to take away from your pieces?

Antoni: Obviously the interpretation of my works is up to the viewer to make on their own, through their own experiences and what they can take away from the piece. However, I like to explore these everyday activities or experiences that everyone can relate to. Having a body just isn’t about having a physical existence, but is a way to experience what is around us and to relate to others. It’s curious to me that soap is made of lard, meaning we wash the body with the body. Lard has then become a common medium in my works. For example in my work Lick and Lather, also made in 1993, I made fourteen busts of myself, seven in chocolate and seven in soap. I then licked the chocolate and washed with the soap, therefore feeding myself with my self and washing myself with my self.

Stelarc: I want to show the world what we do with the body and how we can extend its operations. I want the viewer to be able to engage themselves in these acts that I perform. In my piece Ping Body I allow viewers to remotely send electric signals to my body over the internet causing involuntary movements. It represents the control and power technology has over our bodies. I, like Antoni, base my works from everyday activities, though it may not be as obvious at first. Our world today is run by the internet and our technological advances. We are able to give people transplants and use technology to view the the insides of our body. These technologies are not brand new; the surgery to place this third ear on my arm was not revolutionary. It’s just a matter of how we view ourselves and what we can do with these technologies to improve upon our body and its function.

I think it’s interesting to hear both of your perspectives. You’re both well-respected performance body artists and performance artists who have put yourselves in your pieces, but have incredibly different viewpoints and messages within your work. Both of your views are valid and intriguing. I think it’s possible to view the body from both of your perspectives – thinking about what the body can do and what the body could be. I’m curious to see what the both of you will create and present to us next.

Janine Antoni, Lick and Lather, 1993. Chocolate and Soap, each 24 x 16 x 13
Busts of herself made with chocolate and soap. Antoni licked the chocolate and washed herself with the soap.

Janine Antoni, Loving Care, 1993. Hair dye on gallery floor.
Antoni soaks her hair in hair dye and mops the gallery floor with it.

Stelarc, Third Ear, 2007. Cell-cultivated ear on left arm.
Stelarc surgically attached a cell-cultivated ear on his left arm.

Stelarc, Suspension Performance, 1984, Performance
Stelarc suspends in body in mid-air by hooks pierced through the skin.

Wolfgang Laib's Pollen from Hazelnut at The Henry Art Gallery

I had visited the Henry with the anticipation of being bored and underwhelmed—nothing seemed exciting about a pollen collection. However, once I viewed and experienced Wolfgang Laib’s installation piece Pollen from Hazelnut, 1995 - 1996 in person, my reaction was quite the opposite. The minimalism of a rectangle of golden pollen on the floor of an open, white room somehow felt intimate, yet monumental.

The doorway into the installation was surrounded by a low, clear barrier, only allowing a single person to view – but not enter – the room at a time. The room was a white, open space with nothing in it aside from the pollen on the floor. The isolation of myself as the viewer and the barrier, distancing me from the piece itself, made me feel relatively small, experiencing a sense of sublime – an overwhelming feeling of something bigger than ourselves causing both terror and awe – from the grandeur of the space. The space felt oddly sterile – the floor lacked color or texture and bright, white lights illuminated the white, stark walls. The vents filled the room with a low, soft whirring sound. The airflow was completely controlled. The only warmth in the room was supplied by the pollen.

The open space drew focus to this centerpiece. The pollen was a fine powder, almost indistinguishable from pure pigment, laid out in a rectangle on a smooth floor painted with light-grey deck paint. The edges of the rectangle weren’t crisp and precise, but rather soft and blurry. The layers of pollen formed a completely uniform, matte pool of gold, almost looking like it had depth; I felt as if I could dive right in. My gaze was absorbed in the utter smoothness and purity of the material.

The piece was a both a balance and contrast of the nourishment represented by the pollen with the bareness of the room, the fragility of the light, powdered material with the overwhelmingly sublime, heavenly space. I felt both at peace and uncomfortable.

Days, months and years of labor laid right before my eyes, materialized. Laib’s piece reminded me of the artworks of Buddhist monks – pieces made of ephemeral, powdery materials on the floor that are diligently worked on over long spans of time, but could be destroyed in an instant. And much like contemporary artist Mandy Greer, who both feels an intimate connection to her surroundings and ritualistically collects her materials over long periods of time, Wolfgang Laib lives and works in the same small village in Germany that he did as a child, collecting pollen by hand every year during the spring and summer. As the name implies, the pollen in this piece was collected from hazelnut bushes. It was as if Laib was a worker bee himself, exhibiting the results of his efforts.

Thinking about Laib’s ritual – a set of repeated actions done with an intended meaning or consciousness – of collecting the pollen and his intimacy with the material and his natural surroundings made me feel an odd sense of intimacy and introspection myself. I somehow felt connected to Laib, as he has exposed himself and shared his own intimate experiences with the public. And after leaving the piece, I had felt cleansed. I had felt alive. I had felt human. I came to the Henry with the anticipation of indifference and left having had a spiritual experience.

Wolfgang Laib, Pollen From Hazelnut, 1995 – 1996. Pollen from Hazelnut bushes.

Artist Laib collects pollen from Hazelnut bushes and sprinkles the pollen on the floor in a uniformly smooth rectangle.

Wolfgang Laib, Pollen from Hazelnut, 1995 – 1996. Pollen from Hazelnut bushes.

Artist Laib collects pollen from Hazelnut bushes and sprinkles the pollen on the floor in a uniformly smooth rectangle. With the exception of the pollen, of the pollen, the space is completely white and empty.

The Olympic Sculpture Park - A Time Based Experience

Tucked between the concrete skyscrapers and office buildings of Seattle’s downtown lay the Olympic Sculpture Park, a green, grassy landscape featuring a Z-shaped gravel path designed by Weiss and Manfredi, that overlooks Puget Sound. Much like Earthworks of the 1970’s – which used landscape and the earth itself as a material for sculpture – Maya Lin’s Wave Field – a grassy park sculpted to have artificial hills in the form of waves – or Mel Chin’s Revival Field – a garden sculpted of hyperaccumulating plants to clean toxic earth, the Olympic Sculpture Park is partially sculpted from the earth and natural landscape to form a path on which to walk through. While the Olympic Sculpture Park features individual greater-than-life-size sculptures, crafted by various artists such as Richard Serra and Alexander Calder, the park as a whole acts as a sort of installation artwork. The park is meant to be experienced as an entire entity, making no distinction between the man-made artifacts and the natural yet artificially planted trees and shrubbery, each given a label with a title and description. This blurred line integrates the permanent and everlasting architectural sculptures with the growing and changing plant life. The park juxtaposes real time with frozen time, natural with the unnatural.

However, the Olympic Sculpture Park, unlike a museum, isn’t just about the artworks that reside there. And, unlike most traditional art pieces in a museum, the park isn’t just meant to be viewed. A visit to the Olympic Sculpture is about the time that is spent there and is meant to be an experience. The park is a place for families to leisurely stroll along the grass, athletes to run or workout on the stairs, friends to meet up and walk their dogs, or tourists to document the scenery. All these people who have visited the park, for whatever reason, have left a mark, evidence, from their time spent, whether it’s the impressions left on the grass or the pebbles that were kicked off the path.

Dispersed in the park are poppy and salmon colored metal chairs. These chairs are the only movable “sculptures” in the park, (contrasting with nearby Roy McMakin’s Untitled, 2004 – 2007 which features two immovable seats) and are the most obvious evidence of humans’ visits. I visited the Olympic Sculpture Park early in the morning to find these chairs meticulously lined up along a pebbly path and patch of grass, facing toward the water. To my left I saw two friends sitting in these chairs, catching up, and to my right a parent watching his child run amongst these chairs. I couldn’t help but imagine the thousands of people who, over the years, have sat in these chairs, gazing at Seattle’s iconic scenery. While these chairs were neatly lined up now, I knew that over the day, as the sun rose and set, they would have changed positions. The changing positions embodied the passing of time and visitor’s time spent at the park. People would surely move these chairs to sit together in groups, to sit in a new location with a new view or maybe to just move them out of the way and not sit at all. So I mapped out a day, speeding up time, moving and cycling through various positions of these peachy, metal chairs in a few minutes. I then photographed each position, creating a documentation of this act. Each photo represented a small point in time, and was now a permanent reference to a temporary moment. Of course these four different positions I chose are only a few out of infinite possibilities. Since the opening to the Olympic Sculpture Park, the thousands of people who have visited have moved these chairs into thousands of positions.

At the entrance of the Olympic Sculpture Park sits Paccar Pavilion, a building containing a gift shop and information about the Seattle museums. When I took a peek inside, I noticed another installation piece, Trenton Doyle Hancock’s A Better Promise. Along one wall was a large image of a hand with colored raindrops falling – in Hancock’s distinct offbeat, illustrative style. This large, vibrant space in front of the wall was filled with clear plastic boxes. Hancock issued a “Call to Color,” asking visitors to fill these boxes with various colored plastic lids, each box with a designated color. Over time, these clear boxes would fill up, adding bursts of color to the open, and well lit space. As these boxes filled up, more evidence of people’s visits were left behind. At various points in time, this installation piece would change, as more visitors came and more lids were added. At the time, I conveniently just finished my bottle of water, and dropped its lid into the bin of clear and white lids. This installation piece had changed since I walked in and walked out. I had contributed to this piece. Again, like Mel Chin’s Revival Field, which used environment awareness and restoration as a focal point in his sculpture, Hancock’s A Better Promise used recycling as a way to create art and decorate a space.

In this way, all installation artworks, including parks, act as a place to spend time, embodying a journey in which visitor’s must travel through. Over time, after the effects of hundreds of thousands, even millions of visits, and various weather conditions, the park itself, even with maintenance, will show change.

Zorah Fung, Untitled, 2012. Metal Chairs.

Artist rearranges chairs in four different positions as a representation of the passing of time.

Trenton Doyle Hancock, A Better Promise, 2008. Paint and plastic. Installation piece.

Artist Hancock issues a “Call To Color” asking visitor’s to fill the plastic bins with the appropriately colored plastic lids.

Richard Serra, Wake, 2004. Weatherproof Steel.

Fourteen foot high metal waves create a sense of a space that the viewer can walk through. Simple forms cast shadows which change throughout the day as the sun rises and sets.

Alexander Calder, The Eagle, 1971. Painted Steel.

Abstract steel sculpture refurbished and relocated at the Olympic Sculpture Park, becoming part of the permanent collection of the Seattle Art Museum.

Expectations of Sculpture and Time

Art has long had the reputation as a laborious and tedious process, including long hours in the studio paying close attention to detail and formal elements. However, since the beginning of the Modern Art movement at the turn on the 20th century and Marcel Duchamp’s presentation of the readymade – mass produced, common – objects, this notion of the art process has been challenged. Contemporary artists continue to push the defining, yet expanding, boundaries of the art process. One artist in particular, Erwin Wurm, pushes these boundaries to the limits, using his body and found readymade objects to create sculptures in 60 seconds. These sculptures, however, aren’t just pieces to be looked at, but pieces to be experienced. Erwin Wurm’s One Minute Sculptures challenge both the definition of sculpture, as well as the expectations of the artmaking process. It is the appropriation – or reinterpretation of a concept in a new context – of these everyday objects and acts within the gallery that explore the definition of art and the art process.

I went to the Test Site at the Henry Art Gallery, which displayed a forty-seven minute video of a compilation of Erwin Wurm’s One Minute Sculptures. In each sculpture, Wurm challenges himself to create a composition and hold it for a full sixty seconds. Some of Wurm’s sculptures include balancing three oranges atop each other or placing a banana between cabinet doors. However, most often Erwin Wurm places himself within these sculptures, often balancing objects on his body. This begs the question, “What makes these ‘sculptures’ sculptures?” Again, society’s expectations of sculptures stem from traditional art pieces – a realistic marble statue, such as Michelangelo’s David perhaps. Traditional media include marble, metal, wood, glass or maybe even plastic. But Erwin’s pieces are usually made of none of these. A sculpture is any three-dimensional artwork having height, width and depth made of physical materials that has both positive and negative space. A sculpture should be able to be experience physically and viewed from 360 degrees. Even though, Wurm includes his own body in his pieces, and composes his works in 60 seconds, his works still fit into the definition of sculpture. Three dimensional? Check. Positive and negative space? Check. Viewable from 360 degrees? Check.

The exhibit of the One Minute Sculptures seemed to promote viewer interactivity with the work; next to the video lay several props, such as tennis balls, bucks, and a table, that were seen him Wurm’s film. So I tried emulating one of the sculptures depicted in the video myself. I attempted holding up three bottles by placing them between my body and a wall.

From the viewer’s perspective, this sculpture is of a live, teenage girl leaning in toward a large, flat wall. Between her body and wall are three glass soda bottles, creating horizontal rhythm and repetition. However, I thought I just stated I was the viewer. From my perspective, I see a large flat, white wall and a bottle below me at chest level. I can’t move or view the sculpture from 360 degrees. So the real question is who is the viewer? Who is the creator? I’m both the viewer and the creator, but there are outside viewers, too.

We just determined that these pieces are sculptures, and sure they are, but they are much more than that. Erwin Wurm’s sculptures are not merely three-dimensional objects to be observed, but are works of performance art. Wurm creates sculptures, but the piece itself is the act of creating these sculptures. The piece itself is a performance. One Minute Sculptures aren’t meant to be analyzed visually, but the acts themselves are meant to bring about a conversation. These acts are short – only lasting a minute long – and simple, begging the viewer to be inspired to become the creator of their own piece.

What I take from this conversation is that art can be experienced, and can be experienced by anyone, in any place, in any space. Anyone can grab a few common objects and create a scene, juxtaposing themselves with these objects. Art can have a lifespan and life within time. Therefore, these normal 3D sculptures have become 4D sculptures, only existing in an instance. While paintings and other classic forms of art are forever (sorry, Diamonds), these works are not.

Erwin Wurm, like many other contemporary artists, challenges what defines art, making the viewer the creator of the pieces as well. He is not doing anything special that any common person couldn’t do, (a stereotype of what defines art), but to me, that’s the point. Wurm’s work has most definitely made a mark in the contemporary art world, which is still continually changing. The boundaries of art are becoming increasingly more vague as contemporary artists, such as Erwin Wurm, explore and redefine the meaning of the art making process.

Erwin Wurm, Untitled from his One Minute Sculptures, 1997. Body, pens, film canisters, stapler.

Artist Erwin Wurm puts pens in his ears and nose and holds the pose for 60 seconds.

Erwin Wurm, Untitled from his One Minute Sculptures, 1997. Body and plastic bucket.

A snapshot of the 47 minute video of One Minute Sculptures. Artist Wurm stands on a bucket with a bucket on his head for 60 seconds.

Zorah Fung, Untitled, 2012. Body, glass bottles, wall.

My interpretation of one of Erwin Wurm’s One Minute Sculptures

What Is Art?

As I stated in my previous post, I defined my criteria for art as any thing created with the intent to express or explore an idea, and also evokes some thought or emotion from the viewer. Art is a conversation between the artist, or creator, and the viewer and must satisfy the criteria from the perspectives of both the artist and viewer.

Let’s examine a few examples of art, focusing on different perspectives, and see how they interact with the criteria.

From the Artist’s Perspective

Yoshio Itagaki’s Tourists on the Moon #2

In the triptych Tourists on the Moon #2, artist Yoshio Itagaki displays groups of tourists photographing themselves on the moon, in an archival color photograph. In the entire series, Itagaki explores “ordinary human practice in extraordinary places” and the universal human compulsion to document activities.[1] One may argue that in such a digital and technological world, anyone can, and does, photoshop odd images together. Itagaki explores this idea too; “taking an ironic position, I am both amused by and critical of the insatiable human appetite for sensation and novelty,” he says. [2]

From Viewer’s Perspective

The Real Brillo Soap Pads Box , and other graphic design.

Philosopher Artur Danto uses Andy Warhol’s Brillo Soap Pads Box and the original Brillo Soap Pads box as evidence that aesthetics are not a useful tool to determine whether or not something is art; the former is art, while the latter is not, yet both look exactly the same, Danto claims. Though Warhol’s replica and the original package design function differently, all package and logo design, including the current Brillo box, is art and fit within my criteria. The graphic designer created the design with the intent to sell Brillo pads as desirable items. I, as a viewer, am drawn to the formal elements of the design – the composition, the color scheme, the choice of font etc. However, the average viewer, in this case the consumer, is also interacting with the design of this product. Although a consumer may not always consciously realize it, they are often drawn to a product based on packaging, showing that there is some idea effectively being communicated from the designer to the consumer that influences the consumer to make a purchase.

From Both Perspectives, Simultaneously

Sketches and Personal Drawings

According to George Dickie’s institutional definition of art, which argues that art is an artifact that is created to be presented to the artworld public, pieces never presented to the public, or people who are prepared to understand the piece in front of them, are not art. However, I feel the artist can both be the creator and the viewer. If the artist creates an artifact with the intention of expressing or exploring an idea, and later looks back on his or her piece with thought, re-exploring ideas presented, then this artifact is art. However, if this same artifact is never looked at or revisited, then it is no art, as it no longer has any function behaviorally or instrumentally. Artist Klara Glosova turns her sketches into pieces of art, which can be seen in her In 3D There is Always 2 of Me, a minimalistic red and blue colored pencil drawing of two silhouettes on paper. She sketches out her dreams and ideas as a way to tangibly explore them. She revisits the ideas in her sketch as inspiration for her future works, therefore rendering such a simple sketch as art.

Classic Forms of Art

One may argue that this definition is heavily biased toward contemporary art, as art nowadays tends to be much more based on conveying a message than its material form. What about the notorious “old guy who paints fruit?” The message or idea of a still life is much more subtle, and there is arguably less room for interpretation. Well, let’s take a look at Juan Sanchez Cotan’s classic Quince, Cabbage, Melon and Cucumber, a realistic oil painting of the items in its title. Formal elements of art such as composition and line quality, are all ideas that can be explored while accurately representing an object. The shape, form and color of objects of reality are explored and translated to 2D. A viewer can then analyze the accuracy or the success of such a realistic depiction. Perhaps some people view still lifes or depictions of ordinary objects to be boring, but boredom and indifference are still emotions and reveal the human response toward such mundane items, such as fruit.

Performance and Actions as Art

Take note that the criteria for art is any thing not any artifact, thus visual art can be a conversation brought about by actions, which are often documented. In 1957, zoologist, anthropologist and artist Desmond Morris exhibited paintings created by chimpanzees at the Institute of Contemporary Arts in London. The collection includes an abstract red, white, blue and black painting by a young chimpanzee by the name of Congo. Our definition does not determine whether or not Congo’s or other chimpanzee’s paintings are art, as we do not know if chimpanzees have the ability to purposefully explore an idea or have intent. However, Morris’ exhibition and his act of giving chimpanzees materials with which to create drawings and paintings brings about a conversation with the viewer, challenging society’s perception of art and exploring other animal’s ability to think creatively and compose images. Do animals have the instinctual or behavioral desire to create art? This idea of animals as artists is still being explored, which can be seen in the works of and discussion of contemporary “artist” Tillamook Cheddar, a dog who has been painting for the past decade.

Animal paintings and other avant-garde forms of art continue to challenge our definition of art. This definition and set of criteria is only based on what we have seen in the art world thus far. Our expectations and perspectives on art are going to be ever changing, as we do not know what direction art will go in next.

[1] “Tourists on the Moon Series,” Yoshio Itagkai, http://www.yoshioitagaki.com/2004/tom/index.html (accessed Jan 22, 2012)

[2] Ibid

[1] “Tourists on the Moon Series,” Yoshio Itagkai, http://www.yoshioitagaki.com/2004/tom/index.html (accessed Jan 22, 2012)

[2] Ibid

Yoshio Itagaki, Tourists on the Moon #2, 1998. Triptych, Fuji-Flex archival color photograph.

One photo from a series in which Itagaki photoshops together images of tourists and outer space.

Armaly Brands, Brillo Steel Wool Soap Pads box, 2011. Ink on cardboard.

Logo and packaging for Brillo soap pads

Juan Sanchez Cotan, Quince, Cabbage, Melon and Cucumber, 1602. Oil on canvas, 69 x 85 cm.

Painting realistically depicting a quince, cabbage, melon and cucumber which focusing on color and light and shade.

Congo (chimpanzee), untitled painting, 1957. Paint on paper.

Abstract painting created by Congo, a chimpanzee, for an exhibition on chimpanzees and art shown by Desmond Morris.

Tillamook Cheddar (dog), Unicorn Tapestry, 2008. Oil paint on paper.

Painting created by Jack Russell terrier, Tillamook Cheddar, using paint coated transfer paper, which is then scratched to form an image on a separate sheet of paper.

[1] “Tourists on the Moon Series,” Yoshio Itagkai, http://www.yoshioitagaki.com/2004/tom/index.html (accessed Jan 22, 2012)

[2] Ibid