“A court in Denmark will rule on Monday on whether to prohibit a pair of Faroese art provocateurs from destroying a painting by the Danish artist Tal R and using pieces of the canvas as decorative faces for a line of luxury wristwatches.
Tal R in October dismissed the project in an email to the Politiken newspaper, as a “disrespectful” attempt “to make money and get attention by making a product out of my art”.
His lawyer, Jørgen Permin, argued in a one-day hearing at the maritime and commercial court in Copenhagen in November that the scheme was a clear case of copyright infringement.
“He acknowledges that whoever purchases one of his works would be at liberty to sell it on or even destroy the work,” Permin said. “But what he is not obliged to accept is for someone to alter the work and then reintroduce it to the public domain, and particularly not for commercial reasons.”
This Danish court case interests me. Beginning in the 1980’s I embarked on a number of projects involving the work of other’s. I began by inventing a color—I.K.G. or International Kohl Green. For you art historians reading my blog, you will recognize an obvious nod to the French artist Yves Klein and his “color” I.K.B.—International Klein Blue. Instead of painting monochromes like Klein, I decided to “slime” canvases of other artists. I, in essence, altered the work and reintroduced it into the public domain as my own. I don’t think I sold any so the “commercial reason” was moot.
Just like the watchmakers, I took an iconoclast’s approach to the the actual canvas—not the image—reassigning value to the work and authorship to myself. Some of these artworks by artists like Walter Robinson, David Ireland, Robin Winters and Tony Oursler already had market value. Because my work didn’t then (and doesn’t now) have market value, I essentially defaced for no good reason other than the artistic statement; reason enough in my book.
Dann Thorleifsson and Arne Leivsgard, who five years ago founded the Kanske watch brand, bought Paris Chic, one of Tal R’s brightly coloured Sexshops series, for £70,000 at the Victoria Miro gallery in London in August.
In October, they revealed plans to use the canvas as raw material to manufacture between 200 and 300 watches for Letho, their new brand, which they aim to sell for 10,000 Danish kroner (£1,150) each.
“We needed an artist that was esteemed by experts because we also needed to get a reaction,” Thorleifsson said. “If we just took a $100 canvas, no one would really care. It needed to be a true masterpiece.”
From what I’ve seen of Tal R’s work in general and this painting Paris Chic in particular, the “masterpiece” assignation is arguable. But that’s neither here nor there. They did pay $70,000 pounds for it. That ain’t chicken feed. If the court finds in favor of the artist the owners of the work intend on destroying the canvas in public. I do believe in burning money—but only a dollar at a time. I don’t believe in destroying another’s work. The “alterations” I did were limited to one per artist. And I did not destroy any. I defaced. This is important. The work survives in another form.
“Thorleifsson and Leivsgard plan in a fortnight to destroy the painting at a public event they are calling a vernissage, a term more commonly used for a preview of an art exhibition.”
I can see both sides of this argument. Although most artists whose work I defaced had no problem with the process, not all were so willing to see their work altered. Some were hurt. Others were just pissed. The last series I did was called Broken and Screwed. There’s only one in this group. It’s a canvas by the painter Walter Robinson. Years later when I showed it to him he swore he never painted it. The signature on the back proves otherwise. I don’t think this Danish court case will have much effect on my work. But Tal R. should be thankful to those iconoclastic watch makers. If they didn’t buy (and threaten to destroy) his work, few would ever had heard of the guy.
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