The artist constructs a unique, intricate machine which is installed in a gallery space, preferably an empty room that is at least a little bit too big for it. The machine is cordoned off and the room is watched by two imposing individuals. The machine only operates during gallery hours and its function is to take one standard red brick per hour, stamp it with a unique identifying sequence and the artist's mark, and slowly, over the course of that hour, apply three coats of gold paint to it. The brick is then deposited at the final station, where its weight is measured and its price (the cost of the same weight in high purity gold) calculated and etched into the side.
The artist must come in once a day, at their convenience, to reset the machine and authorize operations for that day (by means known exclusively to the artist). The machine is fully dismantled and put away after the exhibition period, and must be reassembled and reinitialized should it be needed for any future exhibitions.
The machine itself cannot be sold, and, following the artist's death, can never be exhibited or assembled again. The bricks cannot be sold for any less OR any more than the price determined during the process.
The artist drives a vehicle through a first floor wall (assuming thin drywall, wood, or other brittle material), window, or exterior glass pane of the gallery hosting the exhibit (site designated in advance in collaboration between the artist and gallery). Afterwards, the artist drapes the vehicle with a gunmetal gray tarpaulin, the hem of which is secured to the ground with heavy duty nails, such that only the rough shape of the car is visible. Finally, the resultant elements, including any debris, are cordoned off and left inert for the duration of the exhibition.
An installation composed of an arrangement of opaque, teal garbage bags, filled to varying degrees, some to bursting and others only partway, and suspended at varying heights inside an evenly lit room painted floor-to-ceiling in a slightly lighter and less saturated teal hue. When viewed from a certain angle, the installation comes together to form a sculptural interpretation of a contorted face. It is never (and always) viewable from that angle.
A small black room with only one point of ingress contains a smallish, active Braun tube on a squat podium, facing away from the door. A black couch is placed against the far wall. Immediately outside the room, and attached to the back of the TV, is a content warning. "Be Advised: This video exhibit contains content that some might consider to be violent, grotesque, or disturbing in nature. Proceed at your own discretion." The setup of the room forces the viewer to actively and intentionally round the corner to view the screen.
The screen displays footage of static intermittently intercut with indistinct shapes, images of a cartoon bear staring out at the viewer, and extreme closeups on details of various classical paintings, such that they become virtually unidentifiable. Occasionally, the words "Made You Look" and "This is a commentary on how you are voyeuristically drawn to violence and stuff, you absolute fool, you rube," flash on screen for one or two frames at a time. All the footage is in grayscale and overlaid with distortions and artifacting typical of a VHS tape that has been rewound many times over.
An arrangement of Braun tube televisions of varying sizes is stood against a wall. Each television / monitor is looping long stretches of photorealistic footage of an almost entirely still and placid wasteland.
A small, single board computer is suspended in a transparent box and hooked up to a monitor and camera. The camera records the footage of the exhibition, and the television plays it on a delay. A large tank of water is suspended over the glass box and connected to it by a tube, which is in turn attached to a contraption that squeezes a small drop of water into the bottom of the computer enclosure every half a minute or so. A crank allows gallery visitors to accelerate the process.