Art history

Signatories of the Billionairist Manifesto

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1. Maximilian Louxe

An enigmatic artist whose works include the ashes of his own stock certificates suspended in jelly. Once auctioned his own private jet as “performance art,” earning $100 million in resale fees.

2. Claudia St. Fontaine

Creator of Liquidity Eternal and self-proclaimed “priestess of perpetual wealth.” Known for embedding diamonds into seemingly mundane objects, like traffic cones and frisbees.

3. Otto Von Chrome

The mind behind The Wheel of Fortune, Von Chrome merges industrial engineering with jaw-dropping luxury, creating kinetic sculptures that could bankrupt small nations.

4. Aurelius van Goppe

Famous for artworks like Infinity Dividend and sculptures made from melted Fabergé eggs. Claims to “convert capital into immortality” with his gaudy, gilded installations.

5. Belladonna Versailles

Known for satirical—but somehow earnest—pieces like The Velvet Tax Bracket, a literal velvet rope that sold for $25 million. Descended from French nobility, spending her family fortune was “too boring,” so she became an artist.

6. Sebastian Zaitsev

A former crypto tycoon who pivoted to Billionairism. Creator of The Emperor’s NFT, he insists his work “elevates blockchain into a new paradigm of cultural irrelevance.”

7. Genevieve Palladium

Famed for her destructive processes, such as dismantling luxury cars to reconstruct them as art. Her Lamborghini Shard Series set auction records—and set fire to her critics’ sanity.

8. Baron Cosimo Elan

“The Banker of Baroque” – Known for turning financial objects—like rare coins and share certificates—into over-the-top installations. His Gold Brick Sonata involves 400 literal gold bricks, each embedded with a miniature speaker playing Bach.

9. Titania Westwood

An eccentric sculptor whose works combine rare materials with ostentatious absurdity, like chandeliers made from champagne bottles emptied at her own parties. Famous for saying, “If it’s not wasteful, is it even art?”

The Billionairist Manifesto – the 21st Century Art Movement

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By The Consortium for Infinite Value in Art

1. The Age of Aesthetic Poverty is Over

We declare that art has no higher calling than to elevate wealth itself. In an era where the poor cling to meaning and the middle class calls for relatability, we, the Billionairists, proudly proclaim: beauty is dead—long live the price tag. Art is no longer about the tediousness of what you feel but the joy of what you can afford.

2. Art Shall Be the Playground of the Elite

True creativity is forged in the crucible of excess. A starving artist creates paintings; a Billionairist creates bidding wars. We reject the dull utilitarianism of relatable art and embrace the unapologetic ecstasy of the unattainable. If everyone can understand it, we have failed.

3. The Medium is Wealth

We sculpt with Lamborghinis. We paint with liquid platinum. We compose symphonies of yacht horns echoing across private archipelagos. We reject the notion that art must fit on a wall or in a museum—it belongs wherever it cannot be reached. The museum is a prison for art. This will no longer do. We build penthouses for art.

4. Outrage is a Currency

To the masses who weep and gnash their teeth at our opulence: we hear you, and we monetize you. Your outrage fuels the engine of our artistic genius. Every viral tweet criticizing our $500 million diamond-encrusted treadmill installation is part of the performance. The critics are the chorus to our opera.

5. Value Over Vision

We believe the price is the art. The higher the price, the greater the work. A canvas worth $100 million is not 10 times better than a $10 million piece—it is 10 million times better. This is not theory; it is the new maths.

6. Destroy to Create

Billionairism demands we obliterate the old to build the new. We will shred Monet’s lilies and reassemble them into private helipad mosaics. We will melt Rodin’s bronzes and recast them as doorstops for Swiss chalets. Creation is destruction, and destruction is a tax write-off.

7. Art Shall Be Fluid (and Preferably Liquid)

We reject permanence. Our works must evolve, decay, or disappear entirely, like wealth slipping through unworthy fingers. Installations will require constant maintenance; sculptures will oxidize without costly preservation. Art should be a financial liability, not a cultural one.

8. Exclusivity is the Apex of Creativity

A Billionairist work must be rare—no, singular. It must inspire jealousy, not joy. If more than 10 people can see it at once, has it failed? If more than ten people could afford it, is it a crime against art?

9. Critics are Welcome (At a Price)

We invite critique, provided it comes from voices worth hearing. (And by “worth,” we mean net worth.) The opinions of those who do not buy our works are irrelevant—they are mere echoes in the void.

10. The Future Belongs to Us

We are the arbiters of value, the gods of gilded absurdity, the masters of hyper-excess. The poor will ponder, the critics will fume, and the middle class will gawk. But we, the Billionairists, will shape the future of art—one obscenely expensive masterpiece at a time.

Let the masses have their memes and their murals. We have rotating gold-plated Porsche Ferris wheels and a martini fountain that costs more than your city block.

Signed, with Champagne stains,

The Billionairists

On the Art of Spending Lavishly

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By Compton Greene

It has long been my contention that the true measure of a person is not how they make their money, but how gloriously, extravagantly, and unapologetically they lose it. For what is life, if not a grand stage upon which we are tasked to perform a role that dazzles and distracts? And is not spending lavishly—with flourish and flair—the most captivating performance of all? As Erasmus so aptly wrote, “Pecunia non olet” (money does not stink), though I dare add: it does, however, lose all meaning if spent without style.

To spend lavishly is not merely a vulgar act of overconsumption—it is an art form, requiring vision, discernment, and an unerring ability to imbue even the most mundane purchase with a sense of the sublime. One does not merely purchase a thing; one transforms it into a declaration of self, a monument to taste, and a hymn to one’s own ability to live life as it should be lived: extravagantly.

The Philosophy of Lavishness

Lavish spending is not for the faint of heart or the small of mind. It requires a certain intellectual rigor, an aesthetic sensibility that borders on the spiritual. As Aristotle might have said, had he possessed a decent tailor, “Excess is not merely excess; it is the perfection of form when liberated from utility.”

Consider, if you will, the infamous example of the great 17th-century Swedish king, Gustavus Adolphus, who once commissioned a ship so outrageously top-heavy with gilded carvings that it sank before leaving the harbor. What a triumph of vision! What a glorious failure! Gustavus understood what so few do today: that greatness lies not in the result but in the audacity of the attempt.

Thus, let us reject the dreary philosophy of moderation. Let the stingy insist on “value for money” and prattle on about practicality. We, the true aesthetes, know that to spend lavishly is to transcend the banal and enter the realm of the poetic.

Why Spend Lavishly? Three Irrefutable Arguments

1. Lavish Spending Is a Statement of Individuality

In an age where everyone is content to order mass-produced trinkets and dress like mannequins in some dystopian department store, the act of spending lavishly is an act of rebellion. To commission a bespoke item—be it a tailored suit, a rare painting, or a bathtub carved from a single block of Carrara marble—is to proclaim, “I am not like you. I am better.”

The poet Lord Byron, himself a connoisseur of the finer things in life, once declared, “There is pleasure in the pathless woods, there is rapture on the lonely shore,” but I daresay Byron never truly knew rapture until he spent an entire year’s income on a silver tea service he used precisely twice. Such gestures are not mere purchases; they are acts of self-definition.

2. Lavish Spending Elevates the Ordinary to the Extraordinary

Why drink wine when you can drink wine aged in barrels once owned by Napoleon? Why light your home with mere bulbs when Venetian glass chandeliers exist? To spend lavishly is to assert that life’s daily rituals—eating, drinking, sitting—deserve to be enshrined in beauty. As the French painter Jean-Antoine Watteau so beautifully illustrated in his fêtes galantes, even a picnic can become an affair of grace and grandeur if only one adds silk cushions and champagne.

3. Lavish Spending Is a Legacy

When one spends lavishly, one is not merely acquiring objects; one is constructing a legacy. It is no accident that the most enduring names in history—Lorenzo de Medici, Louis XIV, and Catherine the Great—are remembered as much for their spending as for their achievements. What are we, after all, if not the artifacts we leave behind?

When future generations rifle through our belongings, let them marvel not at our practicality but at our splendor. Let them gasp at the absurdity of a jewel-encrusted lobster fork or a library filled with books too fine to touch. Let them say, “Here lived a person who understood the value of beauty above all else.”

The Technique of Lavishness

Of course, one must spend lavishly with precision. Careless extravagance is no better than miserliness; to be gaudy is as sinful as to be dull. A true master of lavishness follows these principles:

• Always Choose the Unnecessary Over the Practical: A gold-plated umbrella stand is infinitely preferable to a sturdy plastic one. Why? Because it makes people ask, “Who on earth buys this?” And to that question, you may simply smile.

• Never Explain Your Spending: To justify a lavish purchase is to cheapen it. Let others assume you have secrets they’ll never understand.

• Spend on the Experience, Not Just the Item: A lavish purchase should tell a story. A tablecloth handwoven by monks on a Greek island is not just a tablecloth—it is a conversation starter, a slice of mystique, and possibly a veil for an unanticipated wedding.

In Praise of Pointless Luxuries

Finally, I urge you to embrace the pointless luxury, the item that serves no function other than to delight and bewilder. Proust spent entire afternoons admiring a single porcelain vase. Marie Antoinette kept sheep dressed in ribbons. Michelangelo once purchased marble he had no intention of carving, simply because it was “too beautiful to touch.”

To spend lavishly on the unnecessary is to assert that life is not a series of problems to be solved but a canvas to be adorned.

Conclusion: Spend Lavishly, Live Immortally

I leave you with the words of Horace: “Pulvis et umbra sumus” (we are but dust and shadows). Yet, in the fleeting moments before we return to that dust, we have the power to make ourselves glitter, to shine, to stand apart from the gray masses. To spend lavishly is not merely to purchase—it is to ascend.

So go forth, dear reader, and spend as if the world depends on it. Because, truly, it does.

The New Manifesto of the 21st Century’s Art Movement “Art for Art’s Sake”

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As Declared by the Disciples of Artemis Gibbons, 1777

We, the faithful adherents of Artemis Gibbons—poet, peacock, and paragon of panache—do solemnly pledge our hearts, minds, and waistcoats to the eternal pursuit of his vision. Our cause is no lesser than life itself: a life lived as he would live it, uncompromisingly adorned with beauty, wit, and éclat.

Art is not a tool for labor, nor a mirror for grim reality; it is a golden chaise longue upon which we recline, sipping port, while the world envies us in hushed tones. Our creed is simple: Art for Art*’s sake.

*Where Art refers to Artemis Gibbons

I. Artemis Gibbons: Our Guiding Light

Artemis Gibbons, born under a particularly flattering moon in 1742, was no mere mortal, but a living masterpiece. A man who turned his morning eggs into an art installation and regarded social conventions as mere drafts to be edited, Gibbons existed as though life were a salon and he its undisputed host.

He was the only man ever to duel over the mispronunciation of “rococo”. He once composed an ode to his own reflection that caused three fainting spells at its recital. His every action—be it sartorial, gastronomic, or rhetorical—was art. It is to him we look in all things, for he is our compass, our critic, and our muse.

II. The Creed of Art for Art’s Sake

In every thought, every gesture, and every morsel we consume, we must ask: What would Artemis do? His example is our north star, our measure of taste, and the reason our socks are ultramarine. To live as Artemis Gibbons lived is the highest aspiration of humanity.

We hold these sacred tenets:

1. Artemis would dress first, think later. Every day is an opportunity for grandeur, and one’s outfit must never be secondary to one’s intellect.

2. Artemis would never eat hastily or humbly. A meal is a performance, not a function. The addition of a sugared violet can elevate even the simplest biscuit into a statement.

3. Artemis would never deliver the last word. To lose an argument is permissible; to lose it while poorly quoting Horace is not.

4. Artemis would never be seen without flair. Whether a feathered hat, a jeweled cane, or a subtle smile, there must always be a touch of the extraordinary.

5. Artemis would neither rush nor economize. Time and money are vulgar concerns. A morning spent perfecting the tilt of one’s hat is a morning well spent.

III. What Artemis Would Never Do

It is equally important to avoid what Artemis would scorn. Consider this a list of sins:

• Wearing anything “practical” (a word that offends the tongue).

• Consuming porridge or any food described as “hearty.”

• Apologizing for wit, even if misunderstood by the dullards.

• Entering a room unnoticed.

• Writing prose when poetry would suffice.

IV. The Rituals of Devotion

To live as Gibbons lived, one must embrace his rituals:

• The Morning Pose: Before venturing into the world, stand before a full-length mirror and consider: What would Artemis think if he saw me now? Adjust accordingly.

• The Three-Course Retort: In debate, every response must have a beginning (clever), a middle (biting), and an end (devastating).

• The Peacock’s Feast: Once a month, dine on a meal so extravagant it bankrupts at least one acquaintance.

• The Noon Repose: Dedicate one hour daily to lounging, for the sake of pondering beauty and being admired from afar.

V. The Symbols of Our Order

Let all recognize the followers of Gibbons by these sacred emblems:

• The Peacock Feather: An eternal reminder that Artemis believed beauty need not justify itself.

• The Mirror: Carried at all times, not for vanity, but for self-improvement (and occasional inspiration for sonnets).

• The Gilded Snuff Box: A repository for ideas, gossip, and powdered sugar, as Gibbons preferred his inspiration both sweet and portable.

VI. A Closing Oath

Raise your crystal goblet, dip your quill in gold ink, and swear with us:

To live as Artemis lived, to love as Artemis loved, and to ignore the world’s sneers as Artemis ignored invoices. For life without beauty is unthinkable, and beauty without Artemis is unimaginable.

May we forever ask, in all things great and small: What would Artemis do? And may our answer always make the dull weep with envy.

In feather, flourish, and fidelity,

The Devotees of Art for Art’s Sake

World’s Most Expensive Artwork Sells for $3 Billion: ‘Untitled (Probably a Fish)’ Stuns the Market

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By Venetia DeCourcy

History was made last night at an exclusive auction in Monaco when the enigmatic artwork “Untitled (Probably a Fish)” sold for an eye-watering $3 billion, officially becoming the world’s most expensive artwork. The sale took place at the hyper-exclusive Black Glove Auction House, attended by art-world royalty, billionaires, and several people who claimed to be “just here for the canapés.”

The buyer, whose identity is shrouded in mystery but rumored to be either a tech billionaire or a crown prince, outbid a swarm of global elites in what was described as “the most intense bidding war since Van Gogh’s left ear sketch hit the market.”

The Artwork

“Untitled (Probably a Fish)” is the magnum opus of obscure Belgian conceptual artist Lars Van Der Klink. The piece consists of a single crumpled sheet of paper, reportedly salvaged from a seaside café in Ostend, onto which Van Der Klink scribbled a faint outline of what might be a fish—or, according to one critic, “the fleeting essence of despair itself.”

The artwork’s frame—a minimalist creation made of reinforced carbon fiber and ethically sourced Himalayan yak wool—was designed by Van Der Klink himself and has been hailed as “integral to the piece’s critique of human fragility.”

“Is it a fish? Is it not? That’s the power of the piece,” said noted art historian Claudia Beaumont-Grey. “It forces us to confront the ambiguity of existence, the frailty of interpretation, and, most importantly, our inability to understand what Lars was thinking.”

The Bidding Frenzy

The opening bid was set at a modest $50 million, but it quickly escalated as collectors and institutions vied for the honor of owning the enigmatic masterpiece. Witnesses described the atmosphere in the auction room as “electric” and “slightly unhinged,” with one bidder reportedly throwing their shoe in frustration after being outbid.

Auctioneer Lucien D’Argent, resplendent in a velvet tuxedo, milked the crowd with theatrical pauses and dramatic intonation. “Ladies and gentlemen, this is not just a fish—or not a fish—it is a moment. A cultural apotheosis.”

The final hammer fell at $3 billion, accompanied by a smattering of polite applause, gasps, and at least one audible “Are you kidding me?”

Reactions

The sale has sent shockwaves through the art world. Critics are divided, as always:

• The New York Art Lens called the sale “a landmark moment in the commodification of ambiguity.”

• Post-Canvas Review derided it as “a billion-dollar doodle.”

• Social media, predictably, erupted in memes, with hashtags like #ProbablyAFish and #MoneyLaundering trending within minutes.

Meanwhile, Van Der Klink, the artist himself, appeared bemused by the record-breaking sale. In a rare statement from his self-imposed exile in a yurt outside Brussels, he said, “I honestly forgot I made that one. But it’s nice that people like it, I suppose.”

The Legacy

With “Untitled (Probably a Fish)” now enshrined in art history, speculation has turned to its future. Will it be displayed in a public museum, as the auctioneer promised, or locked away in a private vault, joining the shadowy ranks of “art for no one”?

One thing is certain: the sale cements Lars Van Der Klink’s position as a leading figure in the conceptual art world, while also ensuring that “crumpled paper chic” will be the hottest trend in galleries worldwide for years to come.

For now, the world can only marvel at the staggering sum paid for a scribble on paper, and ponder the immortal question: Was it really worth it? Or, as Lars himself might say, “Is anything?”

Ephraim Velour’s Sock Soliloquy – a review

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In the heart of the bustling city, amidst the towering skyscrapers and the ceaseless hum of urban life, lies a hidden gem, a testament to the power of art to transform the ordinary into the extraordinary. This artwork, a conceptual sculpture titled “The Laundromat Rainbow,” is a captivating installation that challenges our perceptions and invites us to contemplate the beauty and fragility of everyday objects.

At first glance, the sculpture appears to be a whimsical arrangement of colorful socks, seemingly haphazardly strewn across the gallery floor. However, upon closer inspection, a deeper meaning emerges. The socks, once discarded and forgotten, have been meticulously arranged to form a shattered rainbow, a symbol of hope and unity that has been fractured and dispersed.

The artist’s choice of material is both poignant and thought-provoking. Socks, often overlooked and undervalued, are transformed into a powerful metaphor for the overlooked and undervalued members of society. By elevating these humble objects to the status of art, the artist challenges us to reconsider our perceptions and appreciate the beauty in the mundane.

The shattered rainbow serves as a visual representation of the broken promises and shattered dreams that permeate our society. It speaks to the fragility of hope and the challenges we face. Yet, amidst the fragments, there is a glimmer of hope, a suggestion that even in the face of adversity, we can find beauty and resilience.

The sculpture’s placement in the gallery is equally significant. Positioned in a space that is typically reserved for the display of precious and valuable works of art, the laundromat socks challenge our notions of value and worth. By placing these everyday objects in a context that is traditionally reserved for the elite, the artist subverts our expectations and forces us to confront our own biases.

“The Laundromat Rainbow” is a thought-provoking and visually stunning artwork that challenges our perceptions and invites us to contemplate the beauty and fragility of everyday objects. Through its clever use of materials and symbolism, the sculpture speaks to the challenges of life, while also offering a glimmer of hope for a brighter future

Have Henry V’s Watercolours of Agincourt and Other Battles Been Discovered in a Cellar in Monmouth?

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By Clarence Hargreaves-Sause

The sleepy Welsh town of Monmouth, birthplace of King Henry V, has been thrust into the spotlight this week following a sensational discovery that could rewrite art history. Local historians are abuzz with speculation after what appears to be a series of watercolour paintings, purportedly depicting scenes from the Battle of Agincourt and other key military campaigns of the 15th century, was found in a dusty cellar beneath the Monmouth Museum of Cheese.

The paintings, attributed (in pencil, on the back) to H5, are being heralded as “a revelation of unexpected delicacy and questionable historical plausibility.” Could it be that the warrior-king who once cried “Once more unto the breach!” was also quietly murmuring “Pass me the crimson alazarin”?

The Discovery

The artwork was unearthed during an ambitious effort to install a vending machine selling artisanal crisps in the museum’s basement. Maintenance worker Nigel Pumblethwaite, who made the discovery, described the moment:

“I was moving a crate of novelty keyrings shaped like longbows, and suddenly there they were—some old, scruffy paintings just sitting in a box marked ‘Ye Olde Miscellaneous.’ I knew straight away they were important, because they had that… you know, historical vibe.”

The alleged masterpieces were wrapped in what has been identified as an early example of a 19th-century tablecloth, leading experts to speculate that they were rediscovered—and promptly forgotten again—sometime during the Victorian era.

The Paintings

The collection consists of seven watercolours, each bearing a unique interpretation of Henry V’s famous military victories. Among the highlights:

• “Agincourt in the Rain” — A moody, grey-toned depiction of soldiers slogging through mud, with remarkably detailed puddles that hint at Henry’s possible obsession with “the English weather as metaphor.” Some art historians are already comparing this piece to Constable, though admittedly “Constable with terrible perspective.”

• “Siege of Harfleur, But Make It Cheerful” — A vibrant explosion of yellows and blues, with an inexplicable number of smiling faces. A curiously modern-looking dog sits in the foreground, wearing what might be a soldier’s helmet.

• “Portrait of a French Knight with a Sad Mustache” — This intimate close-up of an enemy combatant reveals Henry’s softer, empathetic side—or perhaps just his struggle to draw hands.

• “Battle Banquet Still Life” — An oddly serene painting of roasted pheasants, goblets of mead, and a lone, half-eaten custard tart. One expert theorizes this may reflect Henry’s post-battle priorities: food first, speeches later.

Each painting is signed with a cryptic “H5” in what could either be a signature or a very sloppy attempt at Roman numerals.

Could They Be Genuine?

The discovery has divided the art world. Dr. Felicity Gudgeon, a medieval art expert at the University of Littlehampton, is cautiously optimistic:

“It’s entirely plausible that Henry V could have dabbled in watercolours. After all, the court had significant downtime between battles. What better way to unwind than by painting your enemies in increasingly vibrant shades of vermilion?”

However, other scholars remain skeptical. Sir Trevor Snoddley-Wick of the Royal Society for Dubious Artefacts called the paintings “about as likely to be Henry V’s as my Aunt Mildred’s embroidery of the Spanish Armada.” He pointed to several “anachronistic flourishes,” such as the presence of a rainbow in one painting (not yet a prominent motif in medieval art) and what appears to be a soldier holding a baguette in “March to Agincourt.”

Public Reaction

The people of Monmouth have fully embraced the discovery, with the town council already commissioning banners reading “Monmouth: Where Kings Paint Too”. A Henry V-themed watercolour workshop has been announced, where locals can attempt to recreate “Agincourt in the Rain” using puddle water and locally-sourced pigments.

The discovery has also sparked heated debates on social media. “Henry V was too busy being a warrior-king to paint!!” one Twitter user exclaimed, while another countered, “You don’t know his life. Maybe he had a hobby, OK?”

What’s Next?

The paintings are set to undergo rigorous testing by experts to determine their authenticity. Carbon dating will be used to establish the age of the paper, while handwriting analysts will compare the “H5” signature to known examples of Henry’s writing.

Should the paintings be proven authentic, they would undoubtedly add a surprising new dimension to our understanding of the famous king—one less about martial glory and more about the importance of shading.

For now, though, the collection will remain on display at the Monmouth Museum, where it is already drawing crowds of curious onlookers. Whether genuine or not, the works remind us of one thing: even history’s fiercest warriors might have paused now and then to ask themselves, “What if I added a bit more zinc white here?”