Fragments of Rebellion
In assembling what others discarded, we have crafted a collection that surpasses most traditional art compilations—not because of grandeur or intended artistry, but in the essence of the unwanted and unknowable. Many pieces within our collection would never be discussed or recognized unless serendipity made them visible. When discovered, these forgotten fragments invoke a labyrinth of insurance claims and paperwork. These hidden treasures occupy art handling warehouses, museums, galleries, and storage facilities worldwide. We humbly believe ours to be the largest of such collections to date.
Our story began in 2001 at Crate 88, Venice Beach, California. Inspired by Art Tactician Brendan Leech, who would save bits and pieces of art in plastic bags, we started collecting fragments of our favorite art from artists we admired. As we crated, transported, and installed artworks, we noticed that pieces always seemed to lose small shards and fragments. With a cheeky sense of preservation, we began storing these remnants in specially designed Ethafoam and matchbox containers. Over time, we accumulated 135 artists’ worth of mana, creating a collection like no other.
One vivid memory takes me back to the lavish estate of a prominent collector in Beverly Hills. Among his treasured possessions hung an exceedingly valuable Andy Warhol painting depicting his high school teacher. During the reinstallation of this piece, one of my associates noticed a tiny fleck of paint had fallen. Without hesitation, we captured this speck and stored it immediately in a specially designed pocket crate, crafted for these very moments. Today, our vault holds several remnants from Andy Warhol’s works.
Within our concrete vault, the collection is meticulously alphabetized. Our ultimate ambition is to reconstruct these names in their entirety, culminating in a singular, unified artwork derived from this collective of fragments. "To be a Great Artist is the least interesting thing I can think of," wrote Sturtevant in 1972. Unlike Sturtevant, who meticulously recreated her peers’ paintings and sculptures using their techniques without ever seeking permission (Warhol once even lent her his flower silkscreen), our method was simpler yet bolder. We stole pieces, minuscule yet significant, from the works of artists we admired.
Upon retiring from the laborious world of art shuffling, we also retired this audacious endeavor, choosing not to manipulate others’ work with white-glove care anymore. We finished the "GAC’13" back in 2013 when we retired from the Educated Artist Slavery Game, hence the name "GAC’13." It’s the greatest art collection in the world, because it’s ours and we built it. It’s sealed in a vault made of brick and Roman concrete, with half-inch bulletproof glass. The entire structure is doosted and weighs 60 pounds. NFS.
Nothing is sacred; anything goes. It parallels sampling in music—taking an existing piece and transforming it into something uniquely your own. This is a battle cry for entrepreneurs today: there is no need to create anything entirely new. Originality is a relic; one can thrive by recognizing opportunities others overlook. In this domain, credit is grimly unnecessary and unobserved. This is precisely why GAC ’13 stands out—it was birthed from refuse, borders on blasphemous intrigue but escapes dramatic repercussion, all safely contained within neat Ethafoam pillboxes, catalogued meticulously within the world’s most extraordinary and unassuming art collection.
