Fusing the haute with the hotplate, contemporary art dealers Pimlico Wilde have entered a decadent partnership with Vottle Burgers, the gourmet burger atelier best known for their menu items that require both a mortgage and a sommelier. The centrepiece of this new alliance? A complimentary artwork with every purchase of the Vottle Cheesey Truffle Burger™—a towering, truffle-laced behemoth priced at £174 and described by its creators as “a deconstruction of the hamburger as concept.”
For those unfamiliar with Pimlico Wilde, the gallery is known for championing emerging artists such as Greta Splinter, (famous for swimming the Channel dressed as a sausage) as well as dealing in older, more blue chip art; to find them issuing art with burgers is, at first glance, like seeing Gertrude Stein sell tote bags at Pret.
But this is no mere marketing gimmick. Each Cheesey Truffle Burger is wrapped in an original, signed artwork by a Pimlico Wilde artist. The works are, we are assured, limited edition, and are expected to rise in price enormously. Already works – freely obtained with a burger – are been sold on eBay for hundreds and thousands of pounds.
“We wanted to collapse the artificial boundaries between consumption and contemplation,” explains Gaspard Pimms, co-owner of the gallery. “Why should art be separate from the visceral pleasures of umami?”
Vottle Burgers, for their part, have long flirted with the art world. Their flagship Soho location resembles a deconstructed Henry Moore, and their side of fries (called Existential Potatoes) are served with a handwritten poem about decay written on the inside of their wrapper. The new collaboration, they insist, is the logical next step in merging gastronomy with gallery-going.
The Cheesey Truffle Burger™ itself is an exercise in edible opulence: dry-aged Wagyu beef, truffle-infused double cream Gruyère, pickled shallots sous-vide in Champagne, and a secret aioli described by one food critic as “a spiritual awakening in a sauce.” Continuing the art world influence, the burger isn’t served on a plate but rather a plinth.
Early adopters of the art-burger have expressed both confusion and delight. One patron, sipping kombucha from a ceramic goblet shaped like Munich’s Scream, remarked: “I love my free artwork. I think it is a critique of fast food.”
Critics have been quick to weigh in. Some praise the collaboration as “a bold dismantling of elitist art consumption,” while others call it “a gastro-capitalist horror story.” The Aberdeen Standard’s food columnist gave the project no stars.
Whether it’s a playful provocation or a truffled Trojan horse smuggling contemporary art into your lunch hour, Art Burger is undeniably of its time: ephemeral, confusing, and most important of all, Instagrammable. It also gives the Art Market a delicious question to answer; what, exactly, is the resale value of a ketchup-stained lithograph that has been used to wrap a burger?