The occasion of jumping on the bandwagon of disagreement with this Daring Fireball post regarding AI generated art and inspired by Alan Jacob’s take on it allows me the chance to tell one of my favorite art stories about one of my favorite art works… Mark Mothersbaugh’s “Ruby Kusturd”
Some may know that I’m a big fan of the band DEVO and also a longtime fan of the artwork of band’s lead singer Mark Mothersbaugh. So when his retrospective exhibition, Myopia, came to the Twin Cities in 2015 I went several times to view it.
The first of these I went alone so I could spend as much time as I wanted with the works. I was fairly familiar with most of his work so imagine my surprise and delight when I saw something that seemed almost incongruous with the rest of the pieces there that I was not familiar with. Tucked into the corner in a glass display case was a very large (2 ft?) representation of an ice cream cone.
I engaged with the piece for a minute or two with no reference other than my own consideration. Then, I read the description card (forgive the long quote but it’s important to the story)…
According to Mothersbaugh, he stumbled upon the colossal ruby when he was hanging out with a gemologist friend who “had this story about a gem mine where somebody was just in a hurry to get rid of a bunch of stuff, and he happened to be at the right place at the right time and he bought it for a ridiculously low price.” The two discussed how the types of people who usually buy these absurdly large gems have often acquired their money by rather sinister means—they are members of drug cartels, Russian oil executives, mobsters. Mothersbaugh decided that he’d like to carve the ruby. Specifically, he’d like to carve the ruby into the shape of a turd… “So whoever owns the world’s largest ruby, [has] to buy a turd to get it.” To disguise the turd as a scoop of ice cream, Mothersbaugh placed the ruby into a beautiful, highly polished bronze cone. Only the title alludes to the less-than-savory subject Mothersbaugh chose to depict (“kus-TURD”).
My jaw nearly hit the floor.
This was the most punk-rock-fuck-you-money-delisciously-absurdist-DEVO thing EVER! This alone, to me, was worth the price of admission. This piece spoke to me so deeply after reading the card and learning the story behind it. By itself, it was a curiosity. With the story — it was profound.
A few days later, I took Beatrix to see the exhibition. She was 7 years old at the time but, believe it or not (and if you’ve read what I’ve written and the various quotes from her I’ve posted here over the years you will) also the most astute art critic I knew. She has always had a keen eye and a frank honesty unspoiled by expectation or popular opinion.
As we wandered the halls and took in the works I said nothing about the giant ice cream cone. When we came upon it she almost breezed right past it. I stopped her and asked her to consider it. As she did, I told her the story…
“Mark made enough money in DEVO and his other commercial film and TV scoring gigs that he was able to buy the world’s largest ruby, have it carved into a creamy turd, and then stick it into a bronze ice cream cone base. Basically, as a giant F-you to the very idea of capitalism, value, and wealth. The most punk rock thing ever!”
Beatrix had one response…
“That’s stupid.”
Yep. Yes… It is. It is that too.
And, this, in a nutshell, is how to think about art. I often say, “Art always does its job.” Art is designed to provoke a reaction. A feeling. Even indifference is a provocation — a reaction. If I see a piece of art and think not much of it and you see it and think it a masterpiece, it has done the job for us both. Art always does its job.
This story also helps remind me that art does not stand alone, in a vacuum. The truth of the mater is that Ruby Kusturd was a simple curiosity to me for a few minutes until I read the story of how and why it was created. The story turned it from curiosity to masterpiece in my mind.
It begs the question of where art really exists. Does it stand alone or only within the context of the story — one we create for ourselves or one we learn by reading the little white card or one we are told or learn along the way? Does one’s opinion of Mona Lisa change when you learn how small it is and that any art critic will tell you it’s not a great painting technique-wise on the same level as, say, Salvator Mundi or if you learn that the only reason it is popular (this has largely been proven) is because of a Nat King Cole song?
So how and why and story actually do matter when it comes to art. It is as crucial to the consideration of the work as the work itself. It is part of the work and can’t simply be ignored. To say otherwise is to not understand art at all.
