Pierre Brassau (aka Peter the Chimp)
seen here in his studio
seen here in his studio
Having discussed the case of Congo in the first post in this two-part series on simian aesthetics, I'd like here to say something on the amusing tale of Pierre Brassau - aka Peter the Chimp - and his fraudulent foray into the art world ...
Peter, a four-year-old West African chimpanzee who resided at a zoo in Sweden, was at the centre of a 1964 hoax perpetrated on the art world by the tabloid journalist Åke Axelsson, who came up with the idea of exhibiting a series of paintings made by a monkey under the pretence that they were by a previously undiscovered (human) artist called Pierre Brassau.
Axelsson sought to demonstrate that contemporary art critics were full of shit and wouldn't be able to tell the difference between canvases daubed with paint by a great ape and those produced by leading members of the avant-garde.
(Axelsson, of course, thereby betrays his own prejudices: he's a sneering reactionary who dislikes (because he doesn't understand) modern art and he's full of anthropocentric conceit in that he doesn't for one moment consider the possibility that a chimp might be able to produce art that is of genuine interest and value.)
Having enlisted the help of his keeper, Axelsson gave Peter painting materials and encouraged him to express himself. Unfortunately, at first Peter seemed to prefer eating the oil paints - particularly the cobalt blue - rather than using them to decorate a canvas. However, he eventually got the hang of it and produced a number of abstract works.
Axelsson then selected what he believed to be the four best and arranged for their exhibition at a gallery in Gothenburg, alongside works by an international array of artists.
Praise for Brassau's work was almost unanimous, with one critic, Rolf Anderberg, writing that whilst most of the canvases on display were ponderous, those of Brassau were painted with powerful strokes that twisted with furious fastidiousness and determination. Brassau, concluded Anderberg, "is an artist who performs with the delicacy of a ballet dancer".
After the hoax was revealed, Anderberg - to his credit - refused to change his opinion and insisted that, ape or not, Peter's work was still by far the best at the exhibition. A private collector, Bertil Eklöt, seemed to agree and purchased one of the works (albeit at the bargain price of just $90).
As for what happened to Peter once his brief career as an artist came to an end, I don't know. He was transferred to Chester Zoo, in 1969, and, presumably, he lived out the rest of his life happily eating bananas in anonymity.
For more detail and images, visit the Museum of Hoaxes website: click here.
For the first post in this two-part series on simian aesthetics, click here.
Axelsson sought to demonstrate that contemporary art critics were full of shit and wouldn't be able to tell the difference between canvases daubed with paint by a great ape and those produced by leading members of the avant-garde.
(Axelsson, of course, thereby betrays his own prejudices: he's a sneering reactionary who dislikes (because he doesn't understand) modern art and he's full of anthropocentric conceit in that he doesn't for one moment consider the possibility that a chimp might be able to produce art that is of genuine interest and value.)
Having enlisted the help of his keeper, Axelsson gave Peter painting materials and encouraged him to express himself. Unfortunately, at first Peter seemed to prefer eating the oil paints - particularly the cobalt blue - rather than using them to decorate a canvas. However, he eventually got the hang of it and produced a number of abstract works.
Axelsson then selected what he believed to be the four best and arranged for their exhibition at a gallery in Gothenburg, alongside works by an international array of artists.
Praise for Brassau's work was almost unanimous, with one critic, Rolf Anderberg, writing that whilst most of the canvases on display were ponderous, those of Brassau were painted with powerful strokes that twisted with furious fastidiousness and determination. Brassau, concluded Anderberg, "is an artist who performs with the delicacy of a ballet dancer".
After the hoax was revealed, Anderberg - to his credit - refused to change his opinion and insisted that, ape or not, Peter's work was still by far the best at the exhibition. A private collector, Bertil Eklöt, seemed to agree and purchased one of the works (albeit at the bargain price of just $90).
As for what happened to Peter once his brief career as an artist came to an end, I don't know. He was transferred to Chester Zoo, in 1969, and, presumably, he lived out the rest of his life happily eating bananas in anonymity.
For more detail and images, visit the Museum of Hoaxes website: click here.
For the first post in this two-part series on simian aesthetics, click here.
A Pierre Brassau original
(untitled, 1964, oil on canvas)
