|Granny, Defiler of Art|
It is a bit hard to see, but the old lady is resting her bag on a chair - she was searching for something in it. Only the chair was part of an artwork - the sign to the right of it reads out the dictionary definition of the word chair. I only had time to snap a quick picture before a horrified attendant chased her away. Now I wonder: does this mean the artist failed? If your artwork is mistaken for an everyday object, does it stop being art? Or did he succeed in some weird meta-commentary on how art is a reflection on reality, so mistaking one for the other validates his (for me) somewhat obscure point? Just goes to show I am better off as a physicist than an art critic.
Speaking of attendants, some artists hate them. Seriously. Take Bruce Nauman for example.
|Nauman, professional dickhead|
Briefly, he had this installation where seven voices recited the days of the week, continuously, out of fourteen speakers. The cacaphony was awful, and nobody stayed in the room more than a few minutes, if that.
|The voices, they spoke to me...|
Except the poor attendant. He was standing near a window, softly singing to himself. I didn't dare snap a photo of him, because he looked ready to snap and start murdering people with his bare hands...