If Baboons Wore Pants, They Too Would Build Spaceships

My artwork has infected me. I’m turning blue, turning yellow, turning red. I call my agent.
“Marcy? Book the show,” I yell into the mouthpiece. “Book it now.”
“Oh, it’s you.” She doesn’t sound too thrilled.
“Anything wrong?” I ask.
“Besides you sleeping with my daughters, you mean?”

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Wikipedia: Performance Art
I've selected a couple of examples for you.