Found art
An oddity that I've pasted into my book from some newspaper or other is a photograph of a tree stump with sprouting twigs on which polystyrene cups have been impaled.
I have some doubt that this piece, which works rather well, was just arrived at by a group of people finding a convenient way of disposing of the containers of a quick coffee. Each cup is attached in the same way with two piercings, which must have taken a bit of application.
It is titled 'Rubbish art' and reminds me of the witty sculptures by Tony Cragg, in which pieces of furniture have been covered all over with cup hooks or screw-in wooden knobs.
But while the coffee tree may be a careful contrivance rather an accidental artwork, perhaps there is such a thing as found art. In a morning walk over Calton Hill and round some of the swanky terraces of Playfair's New Town, I came across this image of a duck.
This is a piece of accidental vandal art, formed from one of a number of sandbags that were propping up a temporary road-works notice. Someone had tossed the bag onto the roof of a bus shelter.
Then, on the concrete slabs that form the pavement of the terrace that houses the American consulate and the French consular residence, there is a veritable backsidery of none-too-pretty naked posteriors. It is as if the spirit of concrete, riled at being criticised for ugly staining, has responded defiantly by pulling moonies.
And what is to be made of this even more graphic image?
I have some doubt that this piece, which works rather well, was just arrived at by a group of people finding a convenient way of disposing of the containers of a quick coffee. Each cup is attached in the same way with two piercings, which must have taken a bit of application.
It is titled 'Rubbish art' and reminds me of the witty sculptures by Tony Cragg, in which pieces of furniture have been covered all over with cup hooks or screw-in wooden knobs.
But while the coffee tree may be a careful contrivance rather an accidental artwork, perhaps there is such a thing as found art. In a morning walk over Calton Hill and round some of the swanky terraces of Playfair's New Town, I came across this image of a duck.
This is a piece of accidental vandal art, formed from one of a number of sandbags that were propping up a temporary road-works notice. Someone had tossed the bag onto the roof of a bus shelter.
Then, on the concrete slabs that form the pavement of the terrace that houses the American consulate and the French consular residence, there is a veritable backsidery of none-too-pretty naked posteriors. It is as if the spirit of concrete, riled at being criticised for ugly staining, has responded defiantly by pulling moonies.
And what is to be made of this even more graphic image?
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