FAKE! FAKE! FAKE!
The art world nearly invented fakery - paintings signed by “the master” when any of his ( always “his”) apprentices actually did the work, blank pieces of paper slipped in front of demented artists (I’m thinking of Salvador Dali) to sign as his originals for later-prints that he never actually saw, copies of copies of copies passed off through the years as originals, often hanging in prestigious museums.
A few years back, the FBI closed down an art scheme here in Rochester that made national news. An art teacher bought a 15 year old ho-hum neighborhood art gallery. With the “history” of a mature gallery to lend credentials, he sold “master prints” on line (complete with documents attesting to authenticity). He was the printmaker, was convicted of fraud and spent jail time (but he kept the money.)
With sophisticated technology today, fakery is more advanced, and I was recently hooked into one of the newest frauds. When a friend, a retired artist and art teacher, recommended a newly released documentary touting the discovery of ancient sculpture, I nestled into my comfy chair for 90 minutes of spell-binding art adventure.
The documentary turned out to be a very cleverly produced “mockumentary” - a completely made up story, fabricated and financed by conceptual artist Damien Hirst. (Remember him? His ‘sculptures” - animals suspended in formaldehyde? He sold all his art at auction to raise money for this project.)
Called “Treasures from the Wreck of the Unbelievable,” the film recorded the adventure of a deep sea diving crew as it followed up on a lead and sailed off the coast of eastern Africa in search of a treasury of artifacts lost during the reign of Nero.
Quite an elaborate back story accompanied the discovery and tension builds when the divers report that not only have they found nearly 100 pieces of marble and bronze sculpture but a trove of gold castings as well (with a gold coin stamped with NERO to verify age.)
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| detail of full human figure with claw feet |
Using a huge crane, they manage to bring up even the largest pieces, wash them down without removing attached barnacles and coral, transport the load back to Venice, find a willing and appropriate exhibition venue and there it all sits….magnificently installed…looking for all the world like ancient artifacts…except for the Mickey Mouse character…and all the buxom women…one wearing knickers…and that beautiful, colorful coral that managed to stay intact…and the lost ship’s name Cif Amotan II - anagram: I am fiction.
O.K., I admit, it was fun to watch and marvel at “how are they going to bring that tonnage to the surface?” I also admit there were small clues along the way that sent me to investigate the “real story.” One: who owns ancient artifacts? Surely not some weird conceptual artist! Since when does one person - an artist at that - bankroll such a venture? And if this is all from the 1st century a.d., how many huge museums - and governments - would fight for the privilege of exhibiting? And oh, by the way, if this stuff has been underwater that long, doesn’t it nearly disintegrate upon reaching open air and sunshine?
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| Lapis Lazuli with barnacles |
So now what to make of all this? Should we innocent viewers feel … stupid?…inadequate?…suckered?…for falling for this elaborate “art?” Are we maybe ticked off that conceptual art has once again made us feel this way? how many “insiders” got the joke? why are we all “outsiders” when it comes to art? how does this further art/empathy or art/cultural awareness? What exactly is Damien Hirst up to with all this?
I might have felt better about it all with a tasteful disclaimer somewhere during the film’s credit scroll. It was fun to watch but…I’m still flummoxed.
How about you?
3 comments:
I seem to recall that we used to have artifacts, objects made by hand. And we had music, performed upon objects made by hand and played by humans. Then with the acceleration of technology, everything seemed endlessly reproducible and digitized to the point where models were all retouched and indistinguishable from mannequins; music was something we could transform, duplicate, copy and listen to on computers; and everything was its own brand down to its most irreducible element. Facebook and others have made humans into products. So conceptual art; by virtue of it being conceptual we are not allowed to ask "what's the point?" I imagine this parody you are talking about on PBS. Even PBS is a parody of itself. Even the president is a parody of himself. Gullibility as conceptual art? PT Barnum said it best.
For a reason that you may be a better judge than I, you post lead me to reflect on the recent mess at the University of Rochester. In only a short 10 years a proud institution was tarnished, an important constituency was dishonored, an able administrator was pushed to the side, a prestigious department was damaged yet all the while the instigator walked amongst the wreckage with immunity.
This ten year train wreck was ultimately adjudicated by those who held that legal issues are paramount; moral and social standards were relegated to the notion of secondary concerns. Somewhere in all this I think there may be a (tenuous) connection.
Well Shirley, Happy birthday, first of all and may you have a fun, enjoyable, productive, healthy year. Next about this film/movie, whatever, let me first say that I have a pretty good sense of humor, but I've never found art jokes too enjoyable. Maybe my smile doesn't go too far back.
As someone who taught art appreciation for scats of years to people who knew nothing about art, but they thought that we were all trying to put one over on them, here's the proof. We were. Thanks, D. Hirst. And whats-his-name, who made giant blowup puppies. It's really that I can't laught at these things (I think a reproduction of the Mona Lisa with a mustache and LHOOQ written on her face, written by DuChamp is pretty funny). But I feel kind of insulted when people make a big fuss over them. There are so many of us just trying to sell a damned work of art every now and then, practically giving it away and then we watch these little tricks and jokes. Ahhh, perhaps we are just jealous and it is we little artists who they are really laughing at, all the way to the bank. Who cares about us anyway.
Rome says it's all lies, but I am not sure. Maybe I just don't like feeling like we are the butt of the joke. I don't take that well.
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