Martin Kippenberger was a champion of insincerity. A momma's boy turned trust-fund kid, he peacocked his way into various vocations—actor, club owner, rock musician, gallerist, and finally artist—before settling, as was his wont, on a purposefully scattered métier. An artist in nearly every possible medium, this part-time sculptor, collagist, photographer, performer, installation artist, and conceptualist inhabited stock roles like a Teutonic Olivier, coaxing from them soliloquies that played less like Hamlet and far more like a... More >>>