In early July, a court in Pais dismissed French sculptor Daniel Druet's lawsuit against famed and controversial Italian conceptual artist Maurizio Cattelan, with whom he collaborated. The reason for the dispute is quite simple. Cattelan commissioned him on several occasions, with very detailed instructions, to make wax figures that would become an essential part of several of his most acclaimed works.
In view of Cattelan's success, it occurred to Druet that he, too, should be recognized for his valuable artistic contributions. Hence the demand that, if successful, would have provided five million euros. But the court ruled against Druet's claim.
Now, if the decision had been made in favor of the disgruntled sculptor, there would have been a real earthquake in the world of conceptual art and very probably a chain of complaints from assistants and collaborators against the conceptual artist on duty who had hired them. But given that poor Druet, in addition to not succeeding in his lawsuit or collecting the five million he asked for, in addition to being sentenced to pay 20,000 euros to the defendant, from now on others will think twice in his place before filing a lawsuit for the style.
The most important aspect of this case is that the court ruling establishes jurisprudence, for the first time, not only on what is conceptual art, but also on its authors and its limits. It is worth remembering at this point that Cattelan's successful artistic career began in 2019 when he taped a banana to the wall of one of the walls of the Art Basel Miami fair, only for it to be devoured by a paid performer. The work was valued at $120,000. Now, how much should the unknown banana eater (or the banana itself) have earned? Should his name appear as a co-author? The answer is negative in both cases according to the judgment of the Paris court.
At the end of July, the famous British artist Damien Hirst, who became famous in the 1990s by exhibiting dead animals, especially a tiger shark floating inertly in a tank filled with formaldehyde, announced his intention to burn, starting on September 9 and by daily deliveries, thousands of his paintings. He will do it in his own London gallery. He has baptized the project The Currency (coin). Hirst, the richest artist in the United Kingdom, not only can afford it, but surely he will get a slice of such a unique and at the same time banal initiative.
One of the great collectors and promoters of conceptual art in Great Britain is the publicist Charles Saatchi. In 2004 a fire devoured a hundred of the most important works in his collection. Instead of lamenting such a loss, Saatchi was indifferent, as if the thing was not with him. There will be new artists and new opportunities to turn the ephemeral into gold, he must have thought, and so it has been.
Hirst, who owes much of his fame and fortune to Saatchi, will amaze the world in September with his conceptual auto-da-fe. Or maybe not. Everything has a limit. So let this court in Paris get ready to, when the time comes, decide who owns the ashes of the burned works of Hirst's paintings. Or if they can be considered a work of art. In short, how lost is the world of conceptual art so accustomed as it is to giving a pig for a hare and lining up along the way
