ART WORLD EXPOSED – EPISODE 73

“PLUCKED FROM OBSCURITY: THE FEATHER ARTIST RUFFLING THE MARKET”

Welcome back to Art World Exposed. Your hosts, Saldo Caluthe and Tomas Sinke, return with another deep-dive into the absurd, the avant-garde, and the potentially profound.

This week, we take flight with Cassian Plum, the enigmatic artist whose intricate, large-scale installations made entirely from feathers have captivated collectors and deeply unsettled the pigeon community. Is his work an ethereal meditation on weightlessness, or just an elaborate excuse to own a very large birdcage?

And in other news: If anyone has seen The Melancholy of Mr. Puddles, please let us know. The painting was stolen from a private collection last week, and despite its bizarre name, it is reportedly worth millions.

TIMESTAMPS & SEGMENTS

00:00 , Intro: Is It Still Art If It Makes You Sneeze?

Saldo and Tomas kick things off by debating whether art should be physically irritating. Have we reached the point where allergic reactions are part of the aesthetic experience?

06:10 , Cassian Plum: The Artist Who Works Exclusively in Feathers

• A look at Plum’s latest installation, The Winged Echo, a 40-foot wall of meticulously arranged feathers sourced from “ethically ambiguous” origins.

• Museums are scrambling to acquire his work, but storage specialists are reportedly “not thrilled” about the long-term preservation of bird-based materials.

13:30 , Interview: Art Critic Fenella de Courcy on Why Feathers Are “The New Canvas”

We sit down with returning guest and “aesthetic theorist” Fenella de Courcy, who explains:

• How Plum’s work “disrupts the conventional weight of meaning”

• The complex political implications of avian-inspired minimalism

• Why collectors are suddenly spending small fortunes on what is, ultimately, just a pile of feathers

22:00 , The Ethics of Feather Art: Where Do They All Come From?

Saldo and Tomas investigate the whispers surrounding Plum’s supply chain. Some sources claim the feathers are “naturally sourced,” while others suggest a rogue taxidermist may be involved. Is this a delicate meditation on flight, or a logistical nightmare for bird conservationists?

30:40 , The Search for The Melancholy of Mr. Puddles

A somber yet perplexing detour: A painting with a rather ridiculous name has been stolen from a private collection, and authorities are baffled.

• The painting’s owner, billionaire hedge fund manager Gregor Blythe, insists it is “priceless” and “not at all amusing.”

• Art thieves remain at large, and so does Mr. Puddles. Call in if you have seen the picture in a rogue museum.

38:15 , Listener Question: “If I Glue a Feather to a Rock, Is It Conceptual or Just Littering?”

Saldo and Tomas debate the thin line between deep artistic statement and accidental environmental hazard.

44:50 , Final Thoughts: The Future of Ephemeral Materials in Art

Saldo predicts that the next logical step is an artist who works exclusively with gusts of wind. Tomas argues that feathers are at least more tangible than some recent conceptual works, including an artist who once exhibited a locked safe with “something profound inside” but refused to open it.

Join us next week for “Painting Without Paint: The Artist Who Only Uses Shadows”, featuring an exclusive interview with a curator who insists it’s “not just someone standing in front of a light.”

If you have any leads on The Melancholy of Mr. Puddles, please contact the show. Also, follow us on Instagram unless you believe social media is a conceptual trap, in which case… respect.

A satisfied client allowed us to post their letter of thanks!

Tunbridge Wells

13 June 2025

Dear PW Gallery,

I wanted to write personally to thank you for the extraordinary portrait commissioned by me of my twin sister, created by the remarkable Mr Hedge Fund. It arrived with all the colours, blacks, confidence, and wit I had hoped for. The artist is a genius and should be knighted.

The piece is vibrant, bold, and entirely modern, yet somehow captures something timeless about Woodie (and, curiously, about me as well). There’s a striking duality in it. Friends and family who’ve seen it all say the same: “It’s her of course, but it’s you too.” I can only assume this is the true magic of Mr Fund’s vision; he’s given me not only the portrait I asked for, but another I didn’t realise I wanted. Two for the price of one, as someone joked at the unveiling. How we laughed.

The colours sing. The composition crackles with personality. And there’s a subtle warmth beneath the digital sharpness that’s hard to describe but deeply felt. It now hangs in my sitting room and I catch myself smiling at it every day, sometimes with affection, sometimes with a curious feeling of being the second best version of me in the room.

Please do pass on my thanks to Mr Hedge Fund. He’s captured something truly special. And thank you again for guiding the commission with such care and enthusiasm. It’s not every day one receives a portrait that feels like both a celebration, a mirror and a ticket to the art collecting elite. Everyone who’s anyone has a portrait by Hedge Fund – it stands to reason then that I am now someone!

With all best wishes, I will be in touch about the portraits of my goldfish that we talked about,

Clarissa Tweedie

ART WORLD EXPOSED PODCAST– EPISODE 48

ART WORLD EXPOSED PODCAST– EPISODE 48

“IS IT ART, OR JUST A REALLY LONG BATH?”

Welcome back to Art World Exposed, the only podcast unafraid to ask: Is that performance art, or did someone just fall asleep in the bath? Your hosts, Saldo Caluthe and Tomas Sinke, are here to dissect the latest absurdities, scandals, and conceptual strokes of alleged genius in the contemporary art world.

This week, we turn our ever-critical eyes to the work of Orpheline d’Aubergine, the Paris-based performance artist who has locked herself inside a clawfoot bathtub in a disused subway station and refuses to leave “until the water tells her it is time.” Is this a profound meditation on the fluidity of existence, or just an extremely elaborate way to avoid paying rent?

00:00 , Intro: Why Do We Keep Doing This?

Saldo and Tomas open with their usual mix of exhausted resignation and reluctant fascination. Have we reached the end of meaning, or is there still money to be made?

05:20 , The Orpheline d’Aubergine Phenomenon: A Woman, A Bathtub, A Moment

• A deep dive (pun unavoidable) into Orpheline’s latest work, L’eau, c’est moi, which she describes as “a durational performance that transcends time, hygiene, and common sense.”

• Rumours suggest that she’s run out of bath salts but remains “spiritually buoyant.”

12:45 , Interview: Orpheline’s Theoretical Spokesperson

Since Orpheline refuses to speak to the press directly (because words are “bourgeois”), we interview her self-appointed artistic spokesperson, Clément Roux, who explains:

• The bathtub is a metaphor for everything

• Why Orpheline has banned visitors from bringing her towels

• How the work critiques capitalism by ensuring she contributes nothing to it

21:30 , Performance Art in Crisis: Are We Just Watching People Do Nothing?

Saldo and Tomas debate whether performance art has become a race to see who can remain motionless the longest.

• Historical comparison: Marina Abramović’s silent staring vs. literal hibernation as an artistic act

• Is there an avant-garde arms race toward absolute inactivity?

30:50 , The Art Market Reacts: Can You Sell a Bath?

• A Heckle’s representative weighs in on whether Orpheline’s bathtub will be auctioned off once she finally exits (Spoiler: Yes, and it’s already estimated at $5,000,000).

• The inevitable question: NFT or physical relic?

• Which billionaire collector will claim the right to drain the tub?

39:15 , Listener Question: “Is This Any Different From My Roommate Not Paying Rent?”

Saldo and Tomas debate whether unpaid performance art is just what happens when you “conceptualize” your way out of financial responsibility.

45:00 , Final Thoughts: The Future of Inactivity in Art

Saldo predicts that the next step in avant-garde art will be an artist who refuses to be born at all. Tomas suggests that a performance piece involving someone slowly metamorphosing into a couch might already be in development.

Join us next week for “I Made a Sculpture Out of Your Bank Statements: A Conversation on Data as Art,” featuring an artist currently being sued by several financial institutions.

Fine Artists for Things to be Better: March in London for Things to be Better

This Saturday, the streets of London were taken over by a colourful parade of individuals who call themselves “Fine Artists for Things to be Better.” The group, which had no clearly defined purpose except for general improvement in everything, marched for a cause so ambiguous, even the participants struggled to explain it.

The march, which started at 10 a.m. sharp, wound its way through the city, with artists wielding a strange mix of banners, sculptures, and cardboard signs that seemed to multiply every five minutes.

The Cause

At the helm of this colorful chaos was Sir Percival Pompington, an avant-garde artist and self-proclaimed visionary of societal improvement. When asked to explain the core objective of the march, Sir Percival offered the following enigmatic statement:

“We are marching for better things, you see. Things that can be better. In the future, things could be better,if we make them better. Sometimes you just have to ask politely.”

When pressed further, he mentioned something about “the inherent beauty of unresolved tension in society,” and how “better things” could include anything from cleaner streets to more chairs in cafes that actually support the human form comfortably for more than ten seconds. The crowd seemed satisfied with this answer, nodding vigorously and breaking into spontaneous applause.

The Marchers

The march was a spectacular display of the eclectic and unpredictable nature of London’s fine art scene. Artists from every medium, genre, and state of caffeination were present. Some carried enormous, abstract sculptures made of what appeared to be papier-mâché and old bicycle tires. Others walked with large canvases depicting entirely different concepts of “better,” ranging from an oversized abstract smiley face to a depiction of a slightly happier broccoli stalk.

“I’m marching for a better world,one where brunch lasts until 5 p.m. and everyone understands the true meaning of postmodernism,” said Jane Blivens, an experimental performance artist in a suit made entirely of cling film.

A group of surrealist painters wore giant clocks around their necks, all set to 3:15. “Time, man, it’s all about time. Things could be better, but not until the clocks tell us it’s time,” one of them explained, before doing an interpretive dance around a nearby bus stop.

The Soundtrack

In keeping with the “anything goes” spirit of the march, a brass band consisting entirely of kazoos played an avant-garde rendition of Beethoven’s Fifth Symphony. The music was frequently interrupted by random shouts of “More color!” and “*Everyone, be better!” from the crowd.

At one point, a small group of drummers began tapping on traffic cones in what can only be described as rhythmic spontaneous chaos. This, naturally, brought the entire procession to a halt for a full 20 minutes as the group debated whether or not this impromptu performance was truly “art”.

The Protest Signs

The signs carried by the marchers were perhaps the most unusual aspect of the event. Some were straightforward,“Make Things Better, Please” and “Art Should Fix Everything.” Others, however, bordered on the baffling:

“I’m Holding This Sign for Future Generations” (held by a man dressed as a potato)

“Better is the New Good” (scrawled in chalk on an abandoned piece of pavement)

“Can We Talk About the Lack of Pineapple in the Art World?” (this one was particularly hard to interpret, though it was written very passionately)

“Things Might Not Be Better, But We’re Trying” (a classic, truly representative of the movement)

When asked about the message behind the signs, one marcher responded:

“The meaning of the signs doesn’t matter. What matters is the feeling you get from holding them.”

The Reception

Onlookers seemed unsure whether to cheer, clap, or perhaps call for the police. The general public’s reaction was mixed, ranging from enthusiastic encouragement to mild confusion. One passerby was overheard saying, “I don’t know what they’re protesting, but I’d like to join just for the free pastries they keep offering.”

A local café owner, who had been giving away complimentary croissants to the marchers, explained, “I don’t really understand what they’re fighting for, but they’re very polite. And they do appreciate a good almond croissant.”

The Grand Finale

As the march reached its final destination,an empty car park that had recently been converted into a temporary gallery space by a group of artists,a huge banner was unfurled reading simply:

“Things Can Be Better, But For Now, Let’s Just Stand Here.”

At this, the crowd stood in a silent tableau for 10 minutes, pondering the meaning of the march and the state of things. Some began to whisper about the deep significance of doing nothing and the collective power of inaction. Others debated whether or not the empty lot itself was a metaphor for society’s failure to improve things.

And then, just as abruptly as it had started, the march ended with a group hug. No one was sure why, but it felt right.

Conclusion

The “Fine Artists for Things to be Better” march was an inspiring, perplexing, and occasionally baffling event. While the precise cause remains unclear, it was, without a doubt, a better way to spend a Saturday morning,at least, in the eyes of those who value a good kazoo performance.