The Big Fruit Loop is just as the name implies: a single massive loop. It’s also a very much unauthorized version of the longtime breakfast cereal, and it’s the latest drop from Brooklyn-based art collective MSCHF.
That one big loop contains 930 calories and weighs around half a pound, or the equivalent of about half a box of regular Froot Loops mashed into one bowl-filling monstrosity. There’s absolutely no reason for it to exist, which seems to be exactly why MSCHF decided to create it.
“With MSCHF, we are always looking at cultural readymades we can play with,” Daniel Greenberg, MSCHF’s co-founder, told Food & Wine via email. “Cereal is, of course, one of those things. When looking at the object and thinking about what we could do with it, enlarging it to fit the size of the box seemed too perfect to pass up.”
Greenberg declined to explain what the production process for the Big Fruit Loop was like, other than to admit that “it was not easy.” He also said that the company had to reverse-engineer its loop to match the flavor of the Kellogg’s originals. To Greenberg, the two kinds of cereal taste “almost identical.” You know, minus one being gigantic and all.
“you may not know this but it’s impossible to open a box of ‘fruit loops’ and just eat the fruit,
let someone else have the loops”
― neil leckman
credits: food and wine magazine, stacey leasca, photo credit: MSCHF
Refugee Who Paints With a Toothbrush Nominated for Prestigious Art Prize: “My Message Is Love”
For artist Mostafa “Moz” Azimitabar, no paintbrush is as special as the humble toothbrush
Facing persecution in his birth country of Iran, the Kurdish artist and musician fled to Australia in 2013. Once there, he was entered into the immigration system and would spend the next eight years in detention centers. At his first stop, an offshore camp on Manus Island, Papua New Guinea, Azimitabar turned to art to cope with his emotions.
“I asked one of the officers on Manus: ‘Can I have some paint?’… I would like to do some artwork because I don’t want to give up’,” he recalled. The guard refused his request, citing safety concerns. Azimitabar returned to his shared room, frustrated, but refusing to let it go. The reality of his situation forced him to get even more creative. He decided to work with what he had — in this case, coffee and a toothbrush.
“I don’t know what happened … that moment was so special for me. I grabbed the toothbrush and I put it in the coffee and I just dragged it (on some paper),” he said, calling it a “moment of victory.” He continued to experiment with the technique throughout his detainment. “Art and painting helped me to be strong, to continue. Because when I paint, I don’t feel any trauma.”
Then, another moment of victory came over a year after his release in 2021: He was named a finalist for the Archibald Prize, one of Australia’s most prestigious art awards, worth over $70,000. His painting, one of 52 chosen from over 800 submissions, was created using a toothbrush, coffee, and acrylics on canvas. It’s titled “KNS088,” the number the Australian government issued him during his years in detention.
“The message of my painting is love. We are all one family, connected by our humanity.”
*This work, which is a depiction of a fireworks display in London’s Cremorne Gardens, is probably Whistler’s most infamous painting. It was the central issue of a libel suit that involved the art critic John Ruskin and the artist. Ruskin had publicly slandered the work by making the statement, “I have seen, and heard, much of cockney impudence before now; but never expected to hear a coxcomb ask two hundred guineas for flinging a pot of paint in the public’s face.” Whistler won the libel suit; however, he was awarded only the token damages of one farthing. This is one of Whistler’s many “Nocturnes,” which are characterized by a moody atmosphere, a subtle palette, and overall tonalist qualities.
“there is only one way to avoid criticism, do nothing, be nothing, say nothing.”
*art: James Abbott McNeill Whistler, Nocturne in Black and Gold, the Falling Rocket,
1875, oil on panel. Detroit Institute of Arts, Gift of Dexter M. Ferry, Jr.
At This Once-Secret Exhibition, the Met’s Security Guards and Staff Display Their Own Art
For the first time since 1935, the show is finally open to the public
Every two years, staff members at New York City’s Metropolitan Museum of Art get the chance to display their own creations on the institution’s hallowed walls. Since the tradition started in 1935, the exhibition has been something of a secret, open only to employees and their guests, Hyperallergenic’s Elaine Velie reports. But now, for the first time, the show is open to the public.
“Art Work: Artists Working at the Met” features hundreds of pieces—including paintings, drawings, photographs, sculptures and digital installations—made by guards, librarians, conservators, educators, registrars and others who work at the Manhattan museum. More than 450 of the Met’s 1,700 employees contributed to the exhibition, which is held in the space next to the museum’s ancient Greek sculpture hall, Hyperallergic notes. The show accepts all staff-made submissions, which are installed by Met staff members working extra hours.
Daniel Kershaw, a Met exhibition design manager who has overseen the show’s curation for more than two decades, says he identifies themes that unify the disparate submissions, grouping pieces that work well together (for example, landscapes go next to other landscapes). This year’s show includes a photograph of Cuba, an oil painting of a partially frozen pond, a series on Black life in Brooklyn’s Crown Heights neighborhood, and jars and cans painted to look like tiny monsters, among other works.
Until this year, museum officials and employees were extremely furtive about the exhibition—so much so that the New York Times’ Corey Kilgannon struggled to find sources for a 2012 story on the show. When he visited the Met and asked guards about it, they told him they were forbidden to discuss it with the press.
After some more digging, Kilgannon found a few guards willing to talk, including Peter J. Hoffmeister, who expressed concerns about the secrecy around the event. “It’s complicated to have artists working for you who want their art on the walls—I understand that,” Hoffmeister told the Times. “But as an artist I think it should be public, because keeping it private defeats the purpose of having an art show.”
Some of the Met’s employees are artists who work at the museum to supplement their income, while others make art as a hobby, according to Hyperallergic. But everyone who submits to the show is balancing their art with their day jobs.
Back in 2012, one such individual was Christoper Boynton, a painter, photographer and museum guard. At the time, Boynton didn’t know why the show was closed to the public. “Maybe it’s because they would have to insure the art in the show,” he told the Times. “Maybe it’s that, if someone’s artwork is shown at the museum, people may think it’s being sanctioned by the museum.”