By Eva Kenny



"Visitors to a German art gallery mistook a young woman's suicide for a work of performance art.

The woman, who has not been named, killed herself by jumping from the sixth floor of Berlin's Tacheles arts centre.

Police say her body was found hours later by a couple who took pictures of her, explaining to other bystanders that this was 'a performance or an installation.'

Finally, a 12-year-old pupil noticed that the body was an actual corpse."

Free Republic, 2002.



"In an unpublished interview with Francois Ronan, Jacqueline Lichtenstein recently recounted her experience.

'When I visited the Museum at AUSCHWITZ, I stood in front of the display cases. What I saw there were images from contemporary art and I found that absolutely terrifying. Looking at the exhibits of suitcases, prosthetics, children's toys, I didn't feel frightened. I didn't collapse. I wasn't completely overcome the way I had been walking around the camp. No. In the Museum, I suddenly had the impression I was in a museum of contemporary art.'"

Paul Virilio, Art and Fear, 2004.



"ELLSWORTH KELLY: I did posters. I was in what they called the camouflage secret army. This was in 1943. The people at Fort Meade got the idea to make rubber dummies of tanks, which we inflated on the spot and waited for Germans to see through their night photography or spies. We were in Normandy, for example, pretending to be a big, strong armored division which, in fact, was still in England. That way, even though the tanks were only inflated, the Germans would think there were a lot of them there, a lot of guns, a whole big infantry. We just blew them up and put them in a field. Then all of the German forces would move toward us, and we’d get the call to get out quick. So we had to whsssh [sound of deflating] package them up and get out of there in 20 minutes. Then our real forces, which were waiting, would attack from the rear.

GWYNETH PALTROW: So in a way, it was just like an art installation! That’s amazing."

Interview Magazine, October 2011.



"A friend of mine worked on a book about OWS that is prefaced by an aerial, two dimensional plan of Zucotti Park. Looking at it, I thought, 'Jesus, this looks like an installation.' More specifically, it looks like the kinds of wonderful transient structures built by Thomas Hirschhorn, complete with a kitchen, a media space, a library, a discussion space and so on."

Simon Critchley, The Brooklyn Rail, August 2012.



"Certain material, like video stills of people leaping from the towers, are set in alcoves with advisory notices, but even things not usually considered shocking can leave you dumbstruck. For some reason, the largest objects—an intact fire truck with carefully folded hoses but a burned-out cab; a steel column plastered with prayer cards; a storefront jeans display still covered with World Trade Center ashes—are the easiest to take, maybe because of their public identity, or even their resemblance to contemporary sculpture."

Holland Cotter, NY Times, 2014.

Pillows of mashed potato wrapped in fried chicken skins—



"In one corner, a glass coffee table was obscured beneath the elements of a makeshift shrine: a chalice filled with Johnson’s Baby Powder, a bottle of J. H. Henkes’ Aromatic Schiedam Schnapps, a horsetail whip, a Master Lock wrapped in red twine. In another, an Ikea desk supported two Dell computer monitors and a broadcast microphone. In the middle sat Mr. Kwaku Bonsam, dressed in a rainbow-colored smock and stirring a brown liquid in a plastic kitchen bowl." NY Times, July 2013



Putting your dogshit in a plastic bag but then leaving the bag on the pavement so it gets squashed flat by a car or passerby—



"It's not that we're humiliated by sexuality, but that the force that wants to humiliate us uses sex as a random tool with which to do so." Dream, 2014.



Moisturizing wipes the size of a towel that you use to rub cream all over your back when you're single—



Having sex with a girl from South Dublin in her parents' bed when they're away on holidays and then wiping your dick on their curtains—?

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