Art Attribution (Part I): Artists & Assistants

It is common for works of contemporary art attributed to a single artist to be produced with the assistance of an entire studio, and the collective labor that often goes into art raises fundamental questions about the meaning and function of attribution. This article is the first in a series about attribution in the art world and it explores how artist studios bring to light intriguing facets of the artist-assistant relationship such as financial compensation, cultural anxieties around the identity of the artist, and the role of apprenticeship in the career of emerging artists.

While the romantic vision of a lone artist tirelessly crafting masterpieces circulates in the cultural imaginary, the reality of collaborative artistry dates back to the beginnings of art. In fact, many of the most heralded artists of the Classical and Renaissance periods had large studios populated with assistants and apprentices. Phidias was a renowned Greek sculptor who created some of the most iconic sculptures of ancient Greece, such as the statue of Zeus at Olympia and the statue of Athena Parthenos in the Parthenon. He had a large studio in Athens where he worked with many assistants, such as Alcamenes, Agoracritus, and Colotes. Renaissance masters like da Leonardo Vinci and Raphael continued on in the studio tradition, and Michelangelo was supported by assistants for background work on the ceiling of the Sistine Chapel.

In the mid-20th century it was Andy Warhol’s “factory” concept that shifted the contemporary art world towards large-scale studio production. Today, artists like Jeff Koons, Yaritji Young, and Takashi Murakami, among others, have transformed their studios into dynamic centers of production that make heavy use of artist assistants. Jeff Koons, at times leading a cadre of over 70 assistants, has multiplied the factory model to reach the heights of the art market. “If I had to be doing this myself,” Koons once admitted, “I wouldn’t even be able to finish one painting a year.”

Jeff Koons, Cracked Egg (1994-2006), mirror-polished stainless steel with transparent colour coating. Courtesy of Christie’s London

Cracked Egg, Unseen Hands

The prolific Koons studio is not without its critics. In a 2012 New York Times article, John Powers offers a candid window into his personal journey as an artist assistant. Joining Koons’ studio in 1995 as a 21-year-old art student, Powers was entrusted with a monumental task: painting Cracked Egg, a prominent piece within Koons’ whimsical Celebration series, inspired by the jubilance of a child’s birthday party. Koons remained removed from the physical production, sharing solely his vision and meticulous directives, expecting an impeccable execution. Powers painstakingly labored for five months, employing intricate brushes and bespoke paints to impeccably produce a metallic-looking colored eggshell.

Tragedy struck when the artwork plummeted from the wall, shattering months of dedication as the remains of the work were considered unsalvageable. Though not faulted for the incident, Powers was handed the Sisyphean task of recreating Cracked Egg from the ground up. This heartrending setback, combined with his evolving sentiments of betrayal and disillusionment towards the world of high art, culminated in Powers’ decision to abandon the project. When reflecting upon his endeavors, Powers self-identified as a Koons’ “serf,” and his sense of loathing was amplified by his discovery that the rendition of Cracked Egg eventually fetched $501,933 at a Christie’s auction in London in 2003.