Friday, November 25, 2005


Insert Object, and Out Comes an Artful Replica

`What you’ll see while visiting Koenig, at 545 West 23rd Street, is a sealed, space-hogging wooden box, the size of a small house or a pre-1970’s mainframe computer. It has two extensions; one like a cabinet, the other like a top-loading chest. You are invited to place an object, any object, into the chestlike extension. Close the hatch. A yellow light goes on. You hear a sliding sound and a clunk. Your item has temporarily disappeared into the big box, just as dozens of others have, including wallets, photographs, specially made items (artists have brought their own work) and, memorably, a 2-year-old child. (The daughter of another Koenig artist, Erik Parker, spent a few hours in the box, emerging delighted but respectfully mum about her experiences – the Gelitin team had sworn her to secrecy.)

Take a seat. Eventually – the wait can be from a few minutes to more than an hour – a light on the other extension goes on. Open the door, and you’ll find your object joined by a brand-new, handmade “duplicate,” or at least something that more or less resembles the original. [..]’

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