And I cannot stress this enough: bury their bones in an unmarked ditch.
Those are original Warhol boxes. Two Brillos, a Motts and a Campbells tomato soup. Multiple millions worth of original art, set on the floor by the front door.
Theres a regular customer whom i do plumbing work for, for the last 3 or 4 years. These belong to her. She also has Cherub Riding a Stag, and a couple other Warhols that i cannot identify, along with other originals by other artists that i also cannot identify. I have to go back to her house this coming Monday, i might get photos of the rest of her art, just so i can figure out what it is.
Even though i dont have an artistic bone in my entire body, i can appreciate art. I have negative feelings on private art like this that im too dumb to elucidate on.
eat the fucking rich. they are good for nothing.
The fact that someone is willing to pay so much money for these boxes and what that says is part of the art. I think you are using the term art to refer to the physical objects on display, but the object itself isn’t the art - the relationships that the object facilitates are. The relationship between the viewer and the object, the relationship between the artist and the object, the relationship between the viewer and the artist through the object, etc.
Some paint on a canvas is just that: paint on a canvas. It only becomes art through our engagement with it.