The hamburger- really, when it comes down to it, nothing more than a hunk of meat between two more hunks of bread- had a fascinating journey from its humble beginnings to the big time, as the world’s most popular sandwich. Oldenburg’s hamburger homage captured something of the epic and the absurd in gastronomy and economy. While not a particularly beautiful piece, its goofy presence that demanded so much gallery space was unforgettable and it soon became a visitor favourite and a Toronto landmark. It was an ugly, lumpy creation, one of many “soft sculptures” the artist had made by stuffing canvas or burlap with chicken wire, newspaper and other refuse. Giant Hamburger, later retitled Floor Burger, was made in 1962, neck and neck with Warhol’s Tomato Soup during the earliest years of pop art’s birth.

The massive floor burger weighed in at 700 pounds and $2000, and burgeoning artists were furious about the tasteless lump of canvas and polyurethane foam.Īrguably, the ketchup bottle had as much social commentary and historical heft as the hamburger, if not more, and merited a place in the hallowed walls of art history, but the museum rejected the donation, dismissing the gift outright because it was not “an important and original work of art.” Oldenburg of the hamburger was himself more generous toward the protest, admitting, “My work is going to get old soon enough.” Some locals, in particular art students from nearby Central Tech, were disgruntled about the museum’s recent art purchase, Giant Hamburger, by Claes Oldenburg. There was, rather, a nine-foot high bottle of ketchup paraded up and down Dundas. Nor were there fires set, looting, or property damage. The alleged injustice that disgruntled Torontonians on this occasion was not police violence, vaccine mandates, or war. In 1967, there was a fracas outside the Art Gallery of Ontario, with protestors and bullhorns and placards.

Golden star hamburgers