The workmen were right.
I sit in awe at the feet of the Master.
I could Rueben your back for you, Manet a time.
I have been away from the soul fulfilling manna that is this thread. I had to interface with the cog/wheel dichotomy for 48 hours. Having slaved for the Man, I am once again free to pursue my Quest of Expression and Meaning.
Case -how can we miniatiruize these pieces to sell in the gift shop? Heh.
Ooh! Speaking of miniaturizing, I would like my next piece to be Barbie’s Garbage: Trangessions in the American Dream.
Just think of the wee bags of trash, dotted around her Dream House. Tiny cat hairs glued into corners, paper shreds, broken shoes, used bit of rubber to simulate condoms…Ken dead in the bath like what’shisname in that picture.
Not entirely correct unless pronounced “garbaaaaazh”.
Sailboat
We need to set Heroin Chic Barbie in the Barbie-mobile, passed out and looking haggard. Maybe up against a tree or a guardrail. The American Dream crashes and burns.
Yes, and let’s get a Minority Barbie to look all street and bad ass. MB won’t be passed out etc–she’ll be counting the money and looking smug.
And Skipper -we could apply makeup to Skipper to make her look like an orphaned waif, ala Kate Moss, but dirty.
Hmm–I wish I had done this with my Barbie’s–all I did was make them have car crashes and throw them off the roof of our house (Ken falls faster than Barbie).
Our Barbies were always promiscuous drama queens. They’d float on a shoebox lid for months waiting for Slacker Ken to save them. Then they’d get laid and move on to the next sweet-talking guy. Tramps…every last one.
Did you have Jacques-Louis David’s The Death of Marat in mind?
The “cushion” story told by jjimm reminds me of my then seven-year-old brother’s similar deconstructionist approach to a sculpture. Dad was a music teacher in a suburban school system, and took us to a Faculty Art Exhibit at which his art teacher colleagues from around the city were displaying their work. One of the pieces was a series of canvases lying like ramps on the floor. Mark asked a woman standing near the display if he could step on one of the inclined planes.
Woman: “Absolutely…”
(Mark steps on ramp, foot goes right through)
Woman: " … not!
As the cliche goes, though, the damage had already been done. Dad had to compensate the teacher, as the piece had been for sale. Lesson I took from the experience: If you want to say an emphatic “No!”, do just that, without preceding the denial with any adverbs.
My respectful entry is inside this box. No, I’m sorry, you can’t open the box; that would destroy the artwork inside. But believe me, you just can’t imagine what’s inside. I call it “Pandora Schrödinger’s Cat’s Left Foot”.
Thank you, sternvogel.
I like the lidded box as well. How about an empty, open bag-signifying the endless yawning cavern of need?
John Hiatt’s song The Wreck Of the Barbie Ferrari would make a great installation theme. eleanorigby, have you considered adding vagina dentata to your endless yawning cavern of need? They always bring in the punters: a title like Sweet Tooth Goes Down Well would, well, go down well.
Heeeee. I couldn’t believe some of the installations when I attended School of Visual Arts in the early 1980’s. Lawdy me. Yes, elanorigby, they did need a massive influx. The headlines were positively scandalous :
Now, I have to admit, I am a huge fan of installation art. I always have been. Growing up in Philly and going to see the Claus Oldenberg exhibition at the Phila. Museum of Art just slayed me. Whether or not one considers this woman’s installation to be art or not, they should have labelled it AND cordoned off that part of the alley until the show opened.
One does wonder how much money she would be compensated for the destroyed work…
As for how to miniaturize the work for sale in tchotchka shoppes? Use tiny plastic eggs, Elmer’s glue for the spattered whites, a Barbie Doll Dress and come up with an edgy slightly inappropriate title for the miniaturized work.
Something like-
EggShellDollSlut
or
Hem and Haww
pr
The Innate Calcification Of Emily
or
Composte in Taupe.
Whichever works. 
Cartooniverse
Sharon Stone could star in the film version.
–rimshot–
What ??? 
Only if we include the vagina dentata
–drumbeat–
Okay, now you guys are just getting weird.
And I have to say, I like the idea of signing my posts with “Sailboat.”
Sailboat.
“…what a wonderful phrase…” {apologies to Guin, from whom I stole that joke}