Art in Contemplation of Its Own BecomingDuchamp finds a discarded urinal. He alters it (by signing a name to it not even his own, but obviously “the artist’s”) and names it “The Fountain”. The most mundane, even off-putting, of objects is transformed by Duchamp into art. He submits it for exhibition and it is rejected. You might say the judges “pissed on” his idea. But the idea was born and persisted. Duchamp insisted the object was art because he as an artist presented it as such. “Conceptual Art” was born.Art in Contemplation of Its Own Becoming4 years ago in Personal More Like This
Wed Dec 7, 2011, 7:59 PM
Duchamp finds a discarded urinal. He alters it (by signing a name to it not even his own, but obviously
Look Up at the Sky! -Issue No. 7Look Up at the Sky! Issue No. 7Look Up at the Sky! -Issue No. 74 years ago in Art Features More Like This
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Please don't take what you've got for grantedI'm from a Third World country called Guyana. It's located in South America, and while it's a beautiful country, it is a poor one.Please don't take what you've got for granted2 years ago in Personal More Like This
My parents and I emigrated to America in 1995, right before my third birthday, and we moved into a small, cold attic. For my first year in America, we had no furniture. We had no couches or chairs. We used to eat our dinner on a cold kitchen floor. At some point, I had came across a cardboard box which I had folded into two pieces and drawn cushions on. That became my "chair" for my first year in America.
As well as I know my father, I don't know the complete story about his childhood or how he grew up. My father was orphaned by the time he was sixteen years old and I vaguely know that he grew up in poverty.
A couple of years ago, my father was bringing home a pizza for me. I was hungry, so when he finally got home with the pizza, I said something along the lines of, "Oh, thank god! I'm starving." My father, whose eyes I'm the apple of, who's never yelled a