Rain on tent tapping
children breathing in and out
primal mother love
Humor in art can be problematic. Jokes can wear thin and since good art withstands multiple viewings, jokey art doesn't hold up well. People have long parodied art--Dali's Persistence of Memory and Leonardo's Mona Lisa have been played with repeatedly. Duchamp himself had some fun with Mona by putting a mustache on her. At the time is was audacious of him; now it could be a typical New Yorker cover.
When I was in graduate school I made stuffed paintings that were "trapuntoed" (is there such a word?) from the back. I would stuff them with polyester and painted frames around them which were also stuffed.
My interest in body builders led me to making an image of a body builder flexing his bicep. The painting style itself was rather cartoon-y and not realistic. So it was an easy leap to get the idea of adding squeak toys inside the fabric where his muscle was. I titled it Squeeze My Muscle and had a sign next to it which stated it was okay to touch this piece and squeeze the muscle. (It was shown at the august Art Institute of Chicago in their Fellowship Show.) Suffice it to say that there was a certain response to this artwork, to the extent that the museum guards told me one woman laughed so hard that she literally wet her pants. Custodians had to be called in to mop the floor. My piece had done its work. Is it great art? I'm not sure. I still stand by it artistically and intellectually but only time can determine its greatness, near greatness, goodness or so-so-ness. We get ideas. We need to make them. We put them out there and hope for a response.
My interest in body builders led me to making an image of a body builder flexing his bicep. The painting style itself was rather cartoon-y and not realistic. So it was an easy leap to get the idea of adding squeak toys inside the fabric where his muscle was. I titled it Squeeze My Muscle and had a sign next to it which stated it was okay to touch this piece and squeeze the muscle. (It was shown at the august Art Institute of Chicago in their Fellowship Show.) Suffice it to say that there was a certain response to this artwork, to the extent that the museum guards told me one woman laughed so hard that she literally wet her pants. Custodians had to be called in to mop the floor. My piece had done its work. Is it great art? I'm not sure. I still stand by it artistically and intellectually but only time can determine its greatness, near greatness, goodness or so-so-ness. We get ideas. We need to make them. We put them out there and hope for a response.