How We Identify with Objects—and Laugh About It When They Become Art

Mundane objects often fade into the background, their design blending seamlessly into our lives to serve a functional purpose. But when removed from their context—by artists like Michael Craig-Martin or Fabio Menino—they transform. These artists elevate everyday objects, turning them into art and urging us to reconsider what we usually overlook.

But why do we care so much about stuff in the first place? On the surface, objects are tools: a broom for sweeping, a chair for sitting. Yet, at times, we layer them with significance. A broom becomes a symbol of your first apartment; a chair, a memory of family dinners. These items are vessels for our emotions, memories, and even identities.

So, what happens when these same objects—brooms, chairs, keys—are pulled from their functional lives and presented as art? Suddenly, they’re no longer just objects; they’re Art with a capital “A.” Artists strip these items of their utility and ask us to see them anew. A broom on a pedestal becomes a sculpture. A lightbulb painted with reverence turns into a meditation on meaning. And a banana duct-taped to a wall becomes a $6 million conversation piece. This reframing is both profound and, let’s be honest, a little absurd.

And that’s where humor steps in.

Humor disarms us. It invites us to laugh at the absurdity of a watermelon as art or a painting of a paperclip that looks like it belongs in a cathedral. It also pokes fun at our tendency to overthink the things we own. By turning a mundane object into art, the artist invites us to share in the joke while prompting us to reflect.

Michael Craig-Martin’s vibrant outlines of ladders and headphones and Fabio Menino’s detailed compositions both pull the mundane into focus, nudging us to reconsider how we perceive design, function, and beauty. Humor makes this shift feel accessible, breaking down the pretension of the art world and allowing us to marvel at the ordinary.

When an artist transforms an everyday object into art, they reveal the tension between function and aesthetics. Humor allows us to hold both truths—its utility and its symbolism—without needing to resolve them.

But it’s not just about laughing at a broom on a pedestal. It’s about challenging why some objects or designs are deemed “worthy” of attention while others are dismissed.

Ultimately, art that elevates the everyday invites connection—it’s relatable. It connects us to the objects themselves, encouraging us to notice what we usually ignore. It connects us to the artist’s perspective. And it connects us to each other as we laugh, think, or debate its meaning.

In this sense, humor democratizes art. You don’t need an MFA to chuckle at a teacup rendered in neon or to marvel at how an office supply can look reverent. These works make us pause, laugh, and see the ordinary in a new light.

If a broom can become art, what else are we missing? Maybe the point is to slow down and notice the beauty—or absurdity—in the everyday. The best art reminds us that even the most invisible objects have extraordinary stories to tell, whether they make us laugh, think, or simply pay attention. And isn’t that the real magic?