The emotional allure of NFTs, #9/50
The ship of Theseus, MSCHF's Museum of Forgeries, Andy Warhol, Gutter Cat Gang, and why NFTs spawn family projects
Here’s an age old puzzle: a curator of a museum must preserve a ship once sailed by a famous hero, Theseus.
The ship is moored in a harbor in the city for all to see and so the curator must work in the open. He can’t move the ship, for example, because it is very popular.
Yet each year, the ship is in need of small amount of restoration. So the curator chooses to make changes every month; slowly, as to be imperceptible to visitors. As the years go by, each part of the ship needs replacing, bit by bit - the sail, the hull, the mast too — eventually every plank rots and every nail shakes loose.
By the 20th anniversary of this work, the curator has repaired every inch of the ship perfectly. If a visitor had seen the ship 5, 10, or 20 years ago, it would look exactly the same as on that day.
Here’s the question that has annoyed people for ages.
When, if ever, did this refurbished ship cease to be the original?
Topps Walked so NFTs Could Run
As a kid, I collected baseball cards.
There was a weird, little furniture store not far from my house that sold Topps cards in wax packages. The store would only sell two at a time, so every week I would bike over and buy a pair of these:
I’d open both packs in the parking lot, unable to wait to see what I’d got inside. Usually, I was disappointed, the dusty gum a lousy consolation on the ride home.
But once in a while, I’d discover something truly amazing, like a Mark McGwire card from his (pre-steroids) Oakland A’s days.
That feeling of anticipation - a tingle of possibility, the hopes of striking it rich - is the emotional current that powers NFT mints.
The belief that you could defy the odds and be the lucky golden ticket holder?
It taps into an entirely nostalgic feeling for folks like me who bought physical collectables.
This feeling is also why NFTs are exponentially more interesting than an entirely fungible Bitcoin token: NFTs are fun.
The Mischief of MSCHF
Brooklyn-based art collective MSCHF (of Lil Nas X sneaker fame) dropped a recent project, “The Museum of Forgeries.”
MSCHF bought an Andy Warhol drawing, “Faires,” and then produced 999 copies by mechanically tracing the image, producing a limited series of 1,000 identical artworks.
MSCHF then shuffled the original in with the copies, destroyed the proof of which was the original, and eliminated the ability for anyone to identify the Warhol from the rest.
They sold 1,000 prints for $250 each.
Here’s an example of the artwork, now entitled, Possibly Real Copy Of ‘Fairies’ by Andy Warhol:
Warhol’s “Fairies” or a MSCHF copy, who even knows anymore?
On the flip side, each item was individually numbered, including the Warhol itself.
For $250, a buyer had a 0.1% chance of owning an original Warhol, which was valued at $19,000.
The only problem?
The buyer would never know if it was real. There is literally no difference between the copies and the original anymore.
From the MSCHF Museum of Forgeries site (watch their video on how they pulled it off):
The capital-A Art World is far more concerned with authenticity than aesthetics, as proven time and again by conceptual works sold primarily as paperwork and documentation. Artwork provenance tracks the life and times of a particular piece–a record of ownership, appearances, and sales. An entire sub-industry of forensic and investigative conservation exists for this purpose.
By forging Fairies en masse, we obliterate the trail of provenance for the artwork. Though physically undamaged, we destroy any future confidence in the veracity of the work. By burying a needle in a needlestack, we render the original as much a forgery as any of our replications.
MSCHF has taken a piece of art and made it, well, fungible.
You could argue this project is positively democratic, making art accessible to the masses, or it’s incredibly destructive, ruining the provenance and history of a work by an American artist.
Whichever side of this argument you take depends on your opinion of our puzzle.
I’d bet which side Warhol would take.
Andy Warhol, Father of NFT Collections
The ship of Theseus, as our puzzle is called, has vexed everyone from Greek philosophers to Noam Chomsky, because it calls into question the very idea of authenticity.
Some have said, it’s precisely the same ship - it looks and functions exactly as it always had, nothing has changed. Others argue it’s obviously a copy; they point to the fact that nothing is left of the original but the outline of its design.
Andy Warhol explored this very paradox in his work. I also believe he was the exact right artist to pick for a stunt like this.
Warhol’s first solo show consisted of thirty-two paintings.
Here is the entire collection:
Warhol’s 1962 Soup Can series, which were free-traced then hand-painted
Looks rare, I know.
At the time, Campbell’s made 32 flavors of soup; these paintings captured every flavor variation, cans of which were commonly found in American homes. (Warhol himself loved the actual soup; he ate it every day for 20 years.)
Warhol’s show was not a hit when it opened. Only five of the paintings sold at $100 a piece, but the gallery owner, realizing the work made more sense as an entire 32 painting series, bought them back days after selling them.
In perhaps the world’s first right-click-save joke, a competing gallery down the street bought real cans of soup and placed them in the gallery window. The note read, Do Not Be Misled. Get the Original. Our Low Price – Two for 33 Cents.
Warhol said of his work:
I don’t think art should be only for the select few… I think it should be for the mass of the American people.
You could argue NFTs are for the select few, or you could argue NFTs are democratizing access to art, crypto, and collectables.
Like a ship tied up in a storm, lashed to dock but pulled by the currents of the sea, we at a pivotal moment where the neither force has yet won out.
NFTs are stuck in a paradoxical middle between these two statements.
Andy Warhol, Lover of Mischief
While I think Warhol would have enjoyed MSCHF’s work, he would have really loved NFTs for two main reasons.
First, Warhol would be enamored with a production process that would require nothing from him. After the 1962 Soup Can paintings, Warhol turned to a screen printing production process to speed up the production of his artwork and created a studio model that magnified his output. As we’ll see next time, Warhol’s studio — aptly named The Factory — not only cemented the Pop Art movement, but it foreshadowed the idea of NFT collections.
Warhol’s Factory produced over 2,000 Chairman Mao prints in a variety of colors
Second, Warhol was incredibly commercially minded. In contrast to the abstract expressionists like Jackson Pollock who fetishized individual paintings, Warhol had no qualms about reproducing a popular artwork in order to satisfy the demands of his buyers. It also allowed him to make more money when his work was selling well, which happened irregularly over his career.
This similar to why popular NFT projects release related projects — when an artist has an asset whose price is appreciating, but whose collection is limited, they need a way to monetize that asset.
Gutter Cat Gang, for example, is a 3,000 item NFT project which has expanded into Rats, Pigeons, and Dogs. While the floor (cheapest) Gutter Cat is at 6 ETH as of today, if you like the project you could buy a Rat, Dog, or Pigeon for about 1.5 ETH.
Don’t forget advertising: Gutter Family shilling for Coinbase’s be-here-any-day-now NFT marketplace
Creating something adjacent, at a lower price to the original, appeals to existing buyers and buyers who were priced out originally.
It is a time-honored commercial strategy.
Andy Warhol, the Brand
Warhol eventually sold thousands of Soup Can variations, in a variety of formats, sometimes merely signing his name to prints that others had made for him. He embodied a brand, which became as important to his art as the work itself.
Warhol was fortunate to become wealthy off of his art, however since his death, the price appreciation has been dramatic.
Artnet News interviewed a Warhol scholar in 2019, who said this about the Warhol secondary market:
…The Warhol trade moves something like a seesaw being pulled uphill: it rises and falls, but each new high and low is above the last one. (She describes the trend as approximating “these fabulous waves, but always going up.”)
Remind you of any cryptocurrencies?
In the end, despite his solo show kicking off a storied career, Warhol only received a $1,000 in total for the 32 Soup Can paintings. Fortunately, they now hang in the Museum of Modern Art.
If you like them, you can buy a copy from the museum gift shop for a mere $18.75
The original set?
Valued at $750 million.
Sorry, Theseus.
Next time:
When Andy Warhol’s Factory changed art forever
Why we fetishize original artworks
How Dr. Suess predicted the exclusionary nature of NFTs
Tweet of the Moment
MSCHF’s most recent project/drop/stunt:
As always, I have so much more to tell you,
Paul
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More on artwork forgeries here:
References: