Reading this article about the nebulous identity conditions of art reminded me of my first visit to the Haus der Kunst in Munich. Proceeding through the gallery, I encountered many works of "art," some more plausibly designated by the term than others.
Until finally I happened upon a piece that had been constructed by carefully mounting an early model air conditioning unit on a wall painted in the prevailing local color, a distressed goldenrod. I couldn't tell who the artist was, but if I'd had to guess, I probably would have gone with Duchamp.
Turns out, though, it was just an air conditioner.
Who could know?
