While thinking about outsider art, I kept flashing back to Claes Oldenburg’s Ray Gun Wing (his collection of toy ray-guns and natural objects that resemble them), recently shown at MoMA. Here Oldenburg breaks down the boundaries between finding and making, collecting and curating, nature and commerce, obsessiveness and humor, garbage and art—much as outsiders do.
This was an attitude that was contemporary once upon a time—the idea that art can be ephemeral, funny, cheap, dirty, chancy, trashy. As Oldenburg once said, “I’d like to get away from the notion of a work of art as something outside of experience, something that is located in museums, something that is terribly precious.” Of course, he failed at that, spectacularly. It seems that everything called art, even some outsider art, is now precious, and pricey.
And when the artist known as the Pope of Montreal lost his vast installation of hats in a fire, he told an admirer simply, “Well, that’s sad, but I will do it again.”
„The Rise of Self-Taught Artists”
(lecz przypominamy: już było wielokrotnie — a nawet tu… sztuka jako zabieg (zastępczo-) terapeutyczny.)