Every fall, college campuses are flooded with the same familiar sight: shirts announcing fraternity rush through a parade of corporate mimicry. The Patagonia mountain becomes Delta-something. The Nike swoosh bends itself obediently into Greek letters. Coca-Cola’s script reappears, sugared down into a slogan. On campus, I’ve witnessed examples firsthand: the
Sawyer Elliott
If one could buy a Picasso, a Van Gogh, or a Raphael, could they also invite the public to deface it? Imagine an exhibition allowing visitors to be participants, giving them the green light to paint over Guernica, carve initials into The Starry Night, or tear through a Renaissance Madonna.
“Good artists copy, great artists steal” – Picasso (more or less) Art has always lived in the uneasy space between originality and imitation. To create is often to take, to borrow forms, gestures, and symbols that already exist in the world. Theft in this sense is less a violation than
