My high school art teacher was always trying to pose philosophical questions to us (bless her heart). One such question was supposed to, I think, teach us about valuation and ethics in art. The problem was that she didn’t fully understand what she was trying to teach us, and so neither did we. The question she posed was the infamous, “If you could only save one artwork from a burning museum, what would it be?” We, of course, had a few questions of our own: “Which museum is it?” Any museum. “What about the visitors and guards?” They got out on their own. “Couldn’t we grab a few things?” No, just one. “If architecture is art, can’t we just save the museum and save all the art as a result?” No. “Don’t most museums have at least a sprinkler system or a halon gas system in case of fire?” This museum’s system has malfunctioned. “Don’t they have insurance?”

In late May, a warehouse in Leyton, east London caught fire and burned to the ground. This was not just any warehouse, but one owned by Momart, the nation’s largest art handler. The press has focused chiefly on the stored works lost in the fire belonging to Charles Saatchi, the primary collector of the Sensation era British artists. Artists whose work was reportedly lost in the blaze include Damien Hirst, Tracy Emin, Jake and Dinos Chapman, Chris Ofili, Gavin Turk, Sarah Lucas, Patrick Heron, Gary Hume, Adrian Heath, Paula Rego and Gillian Ayres. Insurance claim values are expected to exceed £50 million ($90 million). All this occurred in the shadow of Picasso’s “Garçon a la Pipe” fetching $93 million at Southeby’s.

According to Ford Motors, my life is worth approximately $200,725 when sitting in a charred Pinto. I’ll adjust for inflation, valuing my life at $894,574.18: less than $1 million. I would have to bet my life on a horse with 93:1 odds to purchase “Garçon a la Pipe” or to pay for all the work lost in the torched Momart warehouse. Considering that the sum of the material parts for Tracy Emin’s “Everyone I Have Ever Slept With (1963-1995)” would likely total about $300 (in a generous estimate), she sold it to Saatchi for £40,000 ($74,000), and I’m assuming she’s now asking for more than a million pounds in insurance money. This is Lewis Hyde’s “economic man” at work — cutting costs and increasing revenue.

In some ways I am very sorry that dozens of works by people were lost. But it was just art. As much as I dislike the work of the Chapman Brothers, Dinos put it well when he spoke of losing their piece entitled “Hell” in the Momart blaze:

“We’re having a bit of a disaster in the studio. There’s a flood. We’ve had fire and flood and now we are expecting pestilence.”

[…]

“If the insurers decide the fire is an act of God it’s going to be quite funny - that God destroyed Hell. In fact if that happens I will start going to church.”

[…]

“It’s only art - there are worse things happening around the world.”

More art will be made, and in some ways, the new art will be different as a result of the loss. The burden of history will be lighter without some of those works in physical form out there. Sure, the images will remain in books and magazines, and the lost works will take on a new legendary life as martyrs do when burned at the stake. But imagine a world without the actual “Mona Lisa” sitting in the Louvre. Imagine it lost to fire. The “Mona Lisa” is one of the most easily recognizable images in the world, next to the the Coca-Cola logo, due to its proliferation on T-shirts, postcards, and textbooks. The actual, physical loss of the piece would erase some age old boundaries in art production and reception.

I prefer to see Mona (as I like to call her) as the icon that she is. Imagine the loss of Mona as the loss of that entire generation of art. Or, imagine the loss of every work of art that is valued over $1 million. Where would that leave those of us remaining in that scorched cultural landscape? It would certainly free up a lot of museum real estate and raise the bar for what we could legitimately create.

Iconic works create a number of boundaries since they are, by nature, market commodities. The work can not be shared or viewed without the generous backing of wealthy individuals or corporations who donate or loan the works to public venues and/or allow the work to be reproduced for inclusion in publications for a fee. So the work is not accessible to the public without scads of money. No dough, no show. There is also a diminished connection between the artist and the viewer as there are a myriad of individuals involved in the acquisition and display of a single iconic work. Instead there is a vague inclusion in a much larger, and faceless community, but only as a paying customer or a subservient, less-powerful visitor. This places the viewer in the position of lone and lonely appendage to the greater art machine — never fully integrated, just a nub on the surface.

There are numberless possibilities behind a burning museum. Ed Ruscha’s “Los Angeles County Museum on Fire” recognizes those possibilities. There are certain “legitimate” avenues in contemporary art that are closed because we have works sitting in museums that have “been there and done that.” Rarely do recognized artists try their hand at truly classical techniques (most are lost anyway), and heroic compositions are only tackled these days by a robust sense of irony. Irony could finally sit it out for a little while, and allow for a modicum of sincerity.

Perhaps even the art market will normalize itself, keeping the cost of works down to an almost affordable level. This would allow for the purchase of real artwork for the average person’s home. No more would walls have to be decorated with “fine art prints” and posters that lack the nuances of the real thing. The viewer can more likely be an active participant in art exchange (both physical and emotional), and not just a nub.

I think I would let Mona burn, and save the fire. It was one of the first and still one of the best tools we’ve discovered for erasing boundaries.