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The john waters collection
The john waters collection












You see it in a different way - you learn a magic trick. I have a piece called “Contemporary Art Hates You.” And it does, if you hate it first. The kind of art I like is the one that makes people angry, that hate contemporary art - the ones that easily fall for the bait of it. It has to delight me and surprise me and kind of like, put me off a little bit at first, and then I embrace it. It has to sometimes, at first, make me angry. He just thought it was a new thing for diets - but I did weigh 128 and was 6’1,” and he gave me like 200 Black Beauty pills.īesides liking the work, what guiding principles do you follow in collecting? I have the framed medical license of the Baltimore doctor that gave everybody, including me, speed in the ’60s and didn’t know that it was drugs.

the john waters collection

And sometimes take the art down that’s hanging and put mine up. How do you deal with the art that you encounter on the road? He began collecting as a teenager in suburban Baltimore, where his first pieces included an Andy Warhol print of Jackie Kennedy, purchased in 1964, for $100 - “which was a lot then,” he said. He has an expansive, and very seriously considered, art collection - even if a lot of it is funny and some of it is, in his words, “ugly.” (He likes brown art, he said, for that very reason.) “Can you go wrong in collecting monkey art?” he asks, unrhetorically, in a meticulously researched chapter in his new book, “Mr. Waters, the filmmaker, author, performer and bon vivant of bad taste.

the john waters collection

“Whenever I come to my New York apartment, I have to become the installer I put on my white gloves, take everything out - because there’s a lot of floor art, and it’s the enemy of cleaning people,” said Mr. Waters’s scatological legacy with Divine in “Pink Flamingos.” The very realistic poop was a must, given Mr.

the john waters collection the john waters collection

It was all art, of course - the rubble handmade by the Swiss artists Fischli/Weiss, the box an objet from the New Museum’s gift shop, and the mousetrap, one of several trompe l’oeil pieces by Doug Padgett, whose stopped clock and faux light switch also trip up Mr. He gestured to the floor, which was arrayed with what looked like construction rubble, a cardboard box with packing peanuts spilling out, a mousetrap. “Watch where you step,” John Waters said gleefully, as he opened the door to his West Village apartment.














The john waters collection