Cash Brown
Priceless - Street view (image courtesy GRANTPIRRIE)

Cash Brown
Bacchanalian
2008
Nickel plated carnival horse, timber and enamel corbell and shelf, plexi plate
47 x 12 x 12 cm

A New York State principal canceled his high school's prom because it too much resembled an ancient Roman festival:
"'It is not primarily the sex/booze/drugs that surround this event, as problematic as they might be; it is rather the flaunting of affluence, assuming exaggerated expenses, a pursuit of vanity for vanity's sake — in a word, financial decadence,' Hoagland said, fed up with what he called the 'bacchanalian aspects.' "

Cash Brown
Fuck Me Boots, a tale of great personal loss (Lightly Worn)
2008
Nickel plated Prada Boots (worn once), timber and enamel corbell and shelf, plexi plate,
30 x 40 x 40 cm

Cash Brown
St George’s smote nemesis (Bearded Lady)

2008
Nickel plated, tanned female Bearded dragon Pagona vitticeps , euthenased Kenebri 4wd casualty, c 2006, timber asn enamel corbells and shelf, plexi plate.

5 x 17 x 33 cm

Cash Brown

Rut (Bohemian Forest Buck)

2008
Nickel plated antique antlers c 1942, purchased Cesky Kromlov, Czech Republic, 2008, timber and enamel corbells and shelf, plexi plate.

14 x 11 x 30cm

 

Word Origin: buck

Origin: 1748

The Indians taught the European settlers the value of a buck. In the eighteenth century, that meant a deerskin, used for trading in its own right and as a unit of value for trading anything else. So in 1748, while in Indian territory on a visit to the Ohio, Conrad Weiser wrote in his journal, "He has been robbed of the value of 300 Bucks"; and later, "Every cask of Whiskey shall be sold...for 5 Bucks in your town."

In the next century, with deerskins less often serving as a medium of exchange, the buck passed to the dollar. A Sacramento, California, newspaper reported this court judgment in 1856: "Bernard, assault and battery upon Wm. Croft, mulcted in the sum of twenty bucks."

Inflation has hit buck in the later twentieth century, so that in big-bucks transactions buck can mean one hundred or even one hundred thousand dollars. But sometimes a buck is still just a buck.

Passing the buck is a different matter. In the late nineteenth century, poker players designated the dealer with a marker they called the buck, apparently so named because it was often a knife with a handle made of buckhorn. When responsibility for dealing changed to the next player, they passed the buck.

 

 

 

 

Cash Brown
Another Fucking Skull (Unidentified Remains)
2008
Nickel Plated unidentified skull from Dodges Ferry, Tasmania, timber corbell and shelf
7 x 8 x 32 cm 

 

Cash Brown
Stupid Cow (Prized)
2008
Nickel plated art cow from Switzerland, timber corbell and shelf, plexi plate
9 x 6 x 32 cm

Prized:

noun

1. Something offered or won as an award for superiority or victory, as in a contest or competition.
2. Something worth striving for; a highly desirable possession.

adj.

1.      Offered or given as a prize: a prize cup.

2.      Given a prize, or likely to win a prize: a prize cow.

3.      Worthy of a prize; first-class: our prize azaleas.

tr.v., prized, priz·ing, priz·es.

1. To value highly; esteem or treasure. See synonyms at appreciate.
2. To estimate the worth of; evaluate.

[Alteration of Middle English pris, value, price, reward. See price.]
prize² (priz)
n.

1. Something seized by force or taken as booty, especially an enemy ship and its cargo captured at sea during wartime.
2. The act of seizing; capture.

[Alteration of Middle English prise, from Old French, from feminine past participle of prendre, from Latin prehendere, prendere, to seize.]

prize³ also prise (priz)
tr.v., prized also prised, priz·ing pris·ing, priz·es pris·es.

 

Cash Brown
Sentimental Favourite (Blight)
2008
Nickel plated Antony Gormley snow dome from the Hayward, timber corbells and shelf, plexi plate
26 x 14 x 14 cm


Blight:

1.  
   1. Any of numerous plant diseases resulting in sudden conspicuous wilting and dying of affected parts, especially young, growing tissues.
   2. The condition or causative agent, such as a bacterium, fungus, or virus, that results in blight.
2. An extremely adverse environmental condition, such as air pollution.
3. Something that impairs growth, withers hopes and ambitions, or impedes progress and prosperity.

v., blight·ed, blight·ing, blights.

v.tr.

1. To cause (a plant, for example) to undergo blight.
2. To have a deleterious effect on; ruin. See synonyms at blast.

v.intr.

To suffer blight.

 

Cash Brown
Born again (resurrected, she is still a slut)
2008
Nickel plated ‘Garden Slut’ 
timber and enamel corbell and shelf, plexi plate
12 x 12 x 40 cm

 

Recent times have seen alternate slang usages of the word slut. It is often used against gay males and bisexuals, comparing them without merit as people who are promiscuous in that they have, or are reputed to have, many sexual partners, or whose sexuality is voracious, indiscriminate, and shameful.

With BDSM, polyamorous and non-monogamous people, in usage taken from the book The Ethical Slut, the term has been reclaimed as an expression of choice to openly have multiple partners, and revel in that choice: "a slut is a person of any gender who has the courage to lead life according to the radical proposition that sex is nice and pleasure is good for you." (Easton, Dossie, & Catherine A. Liszt, The Ethical Slut, San Francisco 1997, p. 4, emphasis in original). A slut is a person who has taken control of her sexuality and has sex with whomever she chooses, regardless of religious or social pressures or conventions to conform to a straight-laced monogamous lifestyle committed to one partner for life. The term has been "taken back" to express the rejection of the concept that government, society, or religion may judge or control one's personal liberties, and the right to control one's own sexuality.


Priceless

 

The idea:

 

Following from my installations at MOP projects and Chrissie Cotter Gallery in 05 - 07, I have developed a body of work around the themes of value and worth in relation to the art object.

By using already made objects, I am also continuing an investigation into the concept of originality, explored in my last solo show, “Appropriate” at Robin Gibson Gallery in April 08.

Art ownership can be seen as being a bit like having a trophy cabinet. The art object separates itself from high end luxury goods by having no utilitarian use yet by some, is frequently equated with luxury goods, particularly if it is perceived as being purely “decorative” art, which is a weird contradiction.

A trophy, by its nature, implies some sort of competitive process to possess it and says something about the standards of performance or achievements by the owner at some point in time.

Art ownership can also say something about the owner in a private collection context which would ideally go well beyond a display of wealth, i.e. it would imply a certain level of connoisseurship or taste.

Not everyone collects art, but most people collect something and all of us assign values to objects which often have little to do with their intrinsic worth or investment value. Some folk change the context and appearance of their treasures for example having babies first shoes electroplated in copper or framing family heirlooms.

I enjoy my own art collection for a number of reasons, but I also enjoy a number of other “collected” objects which may or may not have any worth outside my domestic environment and their intrinsic value is irrelevant as I have no intention of parting with them. I am not sure how I genuinely feel about the aesthetic merits of these different types of objects in relation to one another and am very interested in “the authority of art through context”.

Sure this is a Duchampian idea, but it is one I feel still holds a great deal of contemporary relevance….

 

Nov 08

……..especially given the economic melt down which has occurred and is still occurring since the conception of this work. 

 

 

 

 

Supporting texts:  
 

 

 

Trophy Art

Super expensive art attained as status symbols for people with too much money.

© Mary Rayme

Jun 26, 2006

Gustav Klimt's portrait of Adele Bloch-Bauer sells for a record $135 million dollars. What does this mean for the international art world?

 

You've heard of trophy houses? Those large mansions that the nouveau riche build on former farmlands that have been sold and subdivided? Trophy wives? Rich old magnates who marry younger former models as the ultimate feather in their cap?

Make way for Trophy art. This past Sunday, cosmetics magnate Ronald S. Lauder bought the Gustave Klimt painting of a portrait of Adele Bloch-Bauer, the wife of a Jewish sugar industrialist, for $135 million dollars.

Yes, this is a knockout of a painting in high Klimt Viennesse Style, it is a shimmering golden masterpiece. And yes, it has a sordid past.

Seized by the Nazis from Bloch-Bauer's uncle during World War Two, the famous Klimt portrait was among five other Klimt paintings that ended up at the Austrian Gallery of Art. This year all five Klimt paintings were awarded back to the niece of the original owner, Maria Altmann, 90, who resides in California. This painting was the subject of a custody battle.

But $135 million? Many would scoff at the idea of a painting having such a high monetary value. After all, it is a thing made of canvas and paint that hangs on a wall. The painting can't even open a can or tell time. So why is this painting worth so much money?

First, who was Gustav Klimt? Only one of the most influential painters of his time in fin de siecle Vienna, and a leader of the art nouveau style. Klimt's figure/ground pattern play, his beautiful women, his languid dreamy world that is glittering gold with jewels of color. The next time you go to an art museum, go look for a Gustav Klimt if the museum you're going to is lucky enough to own one. These are spellbindingly beautiful, sad, and passionate paintings.

Perhaps the ultimate value of this artwork is that only one exists in all the world. The sale of the Klimt painting sets a new high mark in the world of fine art sales. Lauder has purchased this art masterpiece to share it with New York. The purchase of the painting is also great promotion for Lauder and his art museum in Manhattan, The Neue Galerie. But I think it also signals a new high in the market of art. This sale has raised the bar of the value of fine art and the price can only go up from there...right?

Get your trophy before they're gone.

 

The copyright of the article Trophy Art in Art & Society is owned by Mary Rayme. Permission to republish Trophy Art in print or online must be granted by the author in writing.

 

Trophy II (for Teeny and Marcel Duchamp) Robert Rauschenberg 1960 oil, charcoal, paper, fabric, metal on canvas, drinking glass, metal chain, spoon, necktie

Any incentive to paint is as good as any other. There is no poor subject. Painting is always strongest when in spite of composition, color, etc., it appears as a fact, or an inevitability, as opposed to a souvenir or arrangement. Painting relates to both art and life. Neither can be made . . . A pair of socks is no less suitable to make a painting with than wood, nails, turpentine, oil, and fabric. --Robert Rauschenberg, 1959

In the early 1950s, Robert Rauschenberg devised a radical new form, blending two- dimensional collage techniques with three-dimensional objects on painted surfaces. Definable neither as sculpture nor painting, these works were dubbed "combines" by the artist to describe their interdisciplinary formal roots. Rauschenberg's combination of found imagery and gestural brushwork places these works between two movements in painting: Abstract Expressionism and Pop Art.

Trophy II (for Teeny and Marcel Duchamp) is one of a series of five combines, all called "trophies," which alluded to the unconventional creative spirit of artists whose work Rauschenberg greatly admired: in this case, Marcel Duchamp and his wife, Teeny. Using found objects, photographs, and paint, the artist considered himself "a collaborator with objects." In this way, he sought to avoid excessive autobiographical readings and instead refers to the dynamics of the urban landscape.

Walker solo exhibition: Robert Rauschenberg: Painting, 1965


Text Citation

Label text for Robert Rauschenberg, Trophy II (for Teeny and Marcel Duchamp) (1960), from the exhibition Art in Our Time: 1950 to the Present, Walker Art Center, Minneapolis, September 5, 1999 to September 2, 2001.

 

 

 

As for his art, it stank in the 1950s, and it doesn't look any better today." Post Date Wednesday, May 14, 2008

Robert Rauschenberg, the man who once said he wanted to act in the gap between art and life, has departed this life, dying on Monday at the age of 82 in his home on the island of Captiva, off Florida's Gulf coast. There are few things that the men and women who run the culture industry enjoy more than shedding some tears over the passing of a bohemian bad boy who lived a full life, and in the next few weeks, there will be many salutes to Rauschenberg and his times. We will see him as a student at Black Mountain College, in the hardscrabble downtown New York days of the 1950s, and winning a Grand Prize at the Venice Biennale in 1964. While the truth is that a lot of people who loved Pop Art never thought Rauschenberg was anywhere near as important as Johns or Warhol, for some years there was a general agreement that he was America's unofficial avant-garde ambassador-at-large, spreading the anything-can-be-art Dadaist gospel to the four corners of the earth, teaching people all over the world that, by god, you too can make a collage, you too can act in the gap between art and life. The only trouble with all of this was that there never has been a gap between art and life. There is art. There is life. For all I know, Rauschenberg's has been a life well lived. As for his art, it stank in the 1950s and it doesn't look any better today. "De mortuis nil nisi bonum." Of the dead, speak no evil. But of the works of the dead, it seems to me that we have a perfect right to say whatever we think. And the fact is that Robert Rauschenberg's work has been protected by a sort of critical silence for many years now--at least what little negative comment there has been is more or less ignored. The merest suggestion that the juxtapositions of objects and images in Rauschenberg's paintings, sculptures, and prints are nothing more than arbitrary has left one open to the accusation of being a conservative or a reactionary. And once you have been called those names, you are out of the discussion.   I cannot see that there is any poetry or power in Rauschenberg's work, not even in the Combines of the 1950s and 60s, which were the subject of a worshipful exhibition at the Metropolitan Museum of Art in 2005. I find no mysterious or striking qualities about the tire that is hung around the midriff of the goat in Monogram. Or the stuffed rooster in Odalisk. Or the paint-spattered quilt in Bed. The art historians will tell us that what we are witnessing is yet another demonstration of the allure of the quotidian, an increment in an evolution that had already given us the collages of Picasso, Braque, and Schwitters and the readymades of Duchamp. We are told that with Rauschenberg the work of art has become like the mind itself or like life itself, full of dissonant elements. But what if the dissonance has no rhythm, no resonance? There are important questions about Rauschenberg's work, questions that have too rarely been raised, much less discussed. In 1961, when the exhibition "The Art of Assemblage" opened at the Museum of Modern Art, there was a panel discussion, and Rauschenberg, Duchamp, and the writer Roger Shattuck participated. Shattuck--who had three years earlier published an extraordinary book about the avant-garde, The Banquet Years--suggested that there are two kinds of juxtaposition in modern art. "In certain cases," he said, "juxtaposition cancels out...and in other cases it keeps its level of tension." The Cubists and sometimes the Surrealists managed to keep the level of tension. But many Dadaist works, so Shattuck argued, "illustrate the association of two elements that cancel each other out and return us--spiritually and aesthetically--to zero." It seems to me that Rauschenberg fits very neatly in this category. The sum effect of his Combines--not to mention the nearly endless silk-screen thingamajigs of more recent years--is a zero. Why are people so interested in Rauschenberg and his doings? His hold on the public suggests the power exerted by certain charismatic performers in earlier times. Rauschenberg's involvement with avant-garde dance in the 1960s; his collaborations with engineers in the nonprofit foundation known as Experiments in Art and Technology (EAT); his silk-screened paintings that can include anything and everything, from portraits of JFK to nudes by Rubens;   his later collaborations with artists and craftsmen around the world--all of this has had less to do with art than with an art-world circus show. Isn't part of what attracts people to this kind of act the suspicion that what they are seeing is a magnificent fraud? Doesn't the public draw closer because they are fascinated by the performer's ability to confuse and mislead? Rauschenberg's chutzpah--the man painted, sculpted, danced, choreographed, designed sets, even composed music--opened up the possibilities that are now being mined by contemporary con-artists such as Damien Hirst, Mike Kelley, and Jeff Koons. Rauschenberg didn't poeticize the ordinary. He aggrandized the ordinary, he put a high-art style price tag on the ordinary. That could describe much of the most widely discussed work being exhibited and sold in the art world today. It is said that Rauschenberg was a man of considerable charm. And he is surely a representative figure in the second half of the twentieth century, with an energy level that sometimes even left his friends feeling out of breath. For those who were close to him or knew him to some degree, his death is certainly sad. But so far as his work is concerned, it has from beginning to end been nothing but bad news. Jed Perl is The New Republic's art critic.     © The New Republic 2008

FINBARR B. FLOOD

THE MEDIEVAL TROPHY AS AN ART HISTORICAL TROPE:
COPTIC AND BYZANTINE "ALTARS" IN ISLAMIC CONTEXTS

The interests of those researching the history of vi­sual culture are often period-and culture-specific, bound by parameters to which the objects of their study rarely conform. Artifacts, buildings, and cities endure in their entirety or in part, where rulers, dy­nasties and cultures do not, or change hands as the result of commerce, diplomacy, and war, and in the process are remodeled, reinterpreted, and reinvent­ed. As a recent spate of publications on the incorpo­ration of ancient materials into European monuments of the early Middle Ages has demonstrated, the trans-historical or transcultural qualities of such fragments provide significant insights into the role of the visual in the negotiation, construction, and projection of cultural, dynastic, and religious identities.¹ Yet where reference has been made to the transposition of ar­chitectonic features from one cultural and historical setting to another in the medieval Islamic world, the phenomenon has (with a few notable exceptions) been ascribed either to utilitarian opportunism or to a tri­umphalist impulse posited (implicitly or explicitly) on the basis of an essentialized notion of Islam, and often colored by the assumption of a cultural predis­position towards iconoclasm.² Subsumed under the rubrics of convenience or power, the phenomenon thus lends itself to ahistorical interpretations that elide

the inevitable differences between instances of reuse taken from different cultural, chronological, and re­gional contexts.

In order to ascertain whether there are in fact dis­cernible patterns common to the reuse of architec­tural material at different periods and in different areas of the medieval Islamic world, more detailed regional studies are required. What are offered here are some preliminary observations on the aesthetic attractions and possible iconographic associations of a class of objects reused in the medieval Islamic monuments of Egypt and Syria. Although the antique marble tables which form the subject of this paper were not exclusive to either region, their reuse in medieval Islamic contexts seems to be restricted to these centers. At least as interesting as the phenom­enon itself is the manner in which the recontextual­ization of these objects has been interpreted by those few scholars who have dealt with it. Despite the strong cultural differences between the two regions, the shared formal features of these tables and a general assumption that they originally functioned as altars have frequently led scholars to assert that they were taken from Christian churches for reuse in Islamic contexts. The consequent ability of the recontextu­alized "altar" to evoke notions of cultural hegemony by virtue of its status as a kind of trophy has been made particularly explicit by those attempting to explain the frequency with which antique marble……..

  

Culture Wars and Trophy Art

June 23, 2008 by abbeville

Jed Perl has written a provocative analysis of the contemporary art scene in The New Republic, zeroing in on what he calls the “trophy art” phenomenon embodied by the work of Damien Hirst, Jeff Koons, Takashi Murakami, and other creators of outsized and fabulously expensive installation pieces. According to Perl, this trend is not only over-commercializing art and ravaging museum spaces but also producing an enormous amount of overrated kitsch. He traces the problem back to the anti-aesthetics of the Dadaists, explaining that “the artists involved—beginning with Duchamp and including Rauschenberg, Warhol, Salle, and Koons—celebrate, or toy with, a number of apparently contradictory thoughts: that art is nothing; that art can be anything; that randomness and order are the same thing; that art has no particular place in the world; that art can be found anyplace in the world; that art is just another commercial product, like tennis balls and washing machines.”

As Arbiters of Style, we know that none of these things are true. Art (like style) doesn’t exist everywhere and can’t be created by everyone, or by machine—that’s it’s whole power and mystique, and that’s what makes judging it so damn fun. Snobbery can be grating, but it’s an essential part of the game. (And what gets us up in the morning.) Deep down, no one believes that aesthetic value is entirely subjective, relative, or egalitarian: even the sophomore philosophy major who wants to make that claim about high art will immediately get outraged if you place his favorite indie band on an equal musical footing with Celine Dion. And certainly the artists Perl mentions—even good old Andy—never believed as much either; if art is everywhere or nowhere or meaningless or purely commercial, why would they have worked so hard to achieve the shamanlike status of “artist,” and why would the public have conferred it on them? Rather, these artists trafficked (and continue to traffic) in a simple kind of irony—a parody of anti-aesthetic values, and of the culture that produces them—that can be fierce and dark and even shocking, but that gets exhausted pretty quickly.

Broadly speaking, then, we agree with Perl’s assessment. On the other hand, he indulges in some oversimplification himself, often unfairly lumping together Hirst, Koons, et al. without entertaining the possibility that distinctions exist among them. More importantly, he fails to consider serious counterarguments of the kind that true fans of the artists might make. You could contend, for example, that Koons’ giant puppies embody a spirit of total free play—the spirit that makes children start drawing and sculpting to begin with and that often gets completely obscured in “adult” works of art. (The dog sculptures are, in fact, especially popular with children.) By highlighting this spirit and blowing it up to giant proportions, perhaps Koons’ best work transcends the merely kitschy or ironic.

 

 

 

T H E     D O C U M E N T A T I O N   
  P R O J E C T

Project for the Documentation of Wartime Cultural Losses

The Russian Law on Cultural Property
Displaced to the U.S.S.R.
as a Result of World War II

INTRODUCTION

  On April 15, 1998, the Russian parliament enacted legislation concerning the treatment to be accorded cultural property seized by Soviet troops and removed to the U.S.S.R. during and at the end of World War II. This law represents the culmination of numerous attempts by the Russian Duma and Federation Council to nationalize the "trophy art" and cultural property now in Russia. This action has been taken to establish the Russian Federation's right to "compensatory restitution" for the damages it incurred as a result of World War II.

  In 1995, a version of the bill was adopted by the Federation Council but received an inconclusive reading in the Duma. In 1996, the Duma passed another version of the bill, which was defeated in the Federation Council. In 1997, a version was passed by both houses, but President Boris Yeltsin vetoed the bill. Although his veto was overridden by both the Duma and Federation Council, he refused to sign the bill into law. In April 1998, the Constitutional Court ordered Yeltsin to sign the law, which was then published in Rossiyskaya Gazeta, the government's official newspaper. The law came into force on April 21, 1998, the date of its official publication.¹

  Yeltsin subsequently referred the law to the Constitutional Court, which will rule on its constitutionality within the framework of the constitution of the Russian Federation and tenets of international law. Opponents of the law have cited a number of objections, including the law's apparent conflict with the right to private property under the Russian constitution and with international treaties to which the Russian Federation is a party.²

  The law, entitled "Federal Law on Cultural Valuables Displaced to the U.S.S.R. as a Result of World War II and Located on the Territory of the Russian Federation," provides for the return, subject to stringent terms and conditions, of certain "cultural valuables" to foreign governments and families, and the nationalization of the rest by the Russian Federation. According to Article 9, section 1 of this law, claims for the return of property other than family heirlooms must be filed within 18 months of the law's entry into force.

---

 

 

 

 Authenticity and Value

 

Some time ago, Professors Alfred Vendl and Bernhard Pichler of the University for Applied Arts in Vienna drew my attention to a superb life-sized bronze of a naked young man that for several centuries had been described as a Roman original. Recent modern chemical analysis in their laboratory revealed that it was a Renaissance cast. The overnight loss of approximately 1400 irreplaceable years had many consequences for the museum that for over a century had displayed the sculpture as a jewel of its Antiquities collection. Aesthetically speaking, does that revisionist attribution make the sculpture less valuable? Does pricking the balloon of financial inflation automatically also diminish the art historical merit of the sculpture or the viewer’s pleasure in its beauty? And what about the art historian’s personal and professional response when an unblemished favorite suddenly becomes irretrievably tainted?

 

For decades, I, a chemist-turned-playwright, have also been a serious art collector, who has been well aware of the disturbing fetishization of many art objects. But instead of addressing primarily the change in value as a well known art object is reattributed--a situation quite different when a work, say a presumed Vermeer painting, is found to be forged by Van Meegeren--I decided to focus on what effect such reattribution might have on the behavior of the principals involved in the dispute.

 

This dramatic lode has been mined before. Alan Bennett’s play and subsequent BBC TV film, “A Question of Attribution,” uses the question of a Titian painting’s authenticity to depict the relation between art historian (Sir Anthony Blunt) and owner (Queen Elizabeth II) as well as Blunt’s behavior as a notorious Communist spy. And Simon Gray’s more recent “The Old Masters”-though ostensibly covering the dispute whether a certain painting was created by Titian rather than Giorgione-really delves into the ethical and psychological conflict between art historian (Bernard Berenson) and art dealer (Lord Duveen). In other words, the principals and the art in those plays have a historical basis, which however has been altered to make a dramatic point.

 

And what is that point in my “Phallacy”? Here I concern myself with a conflict much closer to my professional competence: the quirks and idiosyncrasies of art historian and scientist, when they examine the age of an art object from their grossly different perspectives: aesthetic and art historical connoisseurship versus cold material analysis. In addition, I also wanted to explore the ramifications of a well known character fault that transcends the gulf been art scholar and scientist: falling in love with a favorite hypothesis and defending it against all comers and new evidence.

 

Like other playwrights working with factual material, I have modified, manipulated, disguised or even deliberately misused many historical nuggets by claiming the authorial freedom that any playwright rightly exercises. Thus I request that any resemblance to the actual principals associated with the ongoing saga of the putative Roman sculpture in the Antiquities collection of a famous European museum be largely ascribed to coincidence and that in no respect have I attempted to damage the reputation of a living scholar. And if the explanation in my play of what has happened to that original sculpture should in the future prove to be correct, it is not a reflection of my art historical acumen but purely a playwright’s dumb luck.

 

Aside from my interest as a scientist and art collector, there is a deeply personal reason why I chose this theme for my newest play. Born in Vienna, I emigrated after the Nazi Anschluss to the USA, where I became a research scientist. In 2004, the Austrian Government offered me Austrian citizenship. Since by that time, I had turned into a playwright, what better token of reconciliation than creation of a play that I situated in the city of my birth?

 

Carl Djerassi

 

Why nickel plating?

Read up on German roots and history. Learn that nickel got its name from the German word "Nickel," meaning Satan or Old Nick. Find that nickel is difficult to separate from copper.

 

  


Priceless - The rest of the cast

 

 

 

Relics (Seraphims)

Jesus; Nickel plated plastic object, purchased in Rome, 2004

Mary; Nickel plated glow in the dark plastic object, purchased in Rome, 2004.

15 x 2.6 x 2.8 cm each

A relic is an object or a personal item of religious significance, carefully preserved with an air of veneration as a tangible memorial. Relics are an important aspect of some forms of Buddhism, Christianity, Hinduism, shamanism, and many other religions.^{[citation needed]}

The word relic comes from the Latin reliquiae ('remains'). A reliquary is a shrine that houses one or more relics.

From Wikipedia, the free encyclopedia

 

 

 
Washed Up (Tsunami Victims - memento mori)

Nickel plated finger coral collected from Bamboo Island, Thailand in 2008

4 x 11 x 7 cm

The devastation and dislocation surrounding the tsunami are akin to the scenario imagined by some from the effects of global warming, although the tsunami’s impact was instant.

The tens of thousands of people left destitute look like survivors from a brutal armed conflict. In some of the countries affected, such as the Maldives, the population has been rendered virtually stateless. Of course, the cause this time is natural. But the results are similar to war and war is a situation where refugees would be accepted.

http://www.onlineopinion.com.au/view.asp?article=2924

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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