(Grodnau 1925–2013 Moncarapacho, Portugal)
“Ritual Sex” (Papyrus 55001), signed, dated muehl 84 15.11, oil on canvas, 180 x 170 cm, on stretcher

Exhibited and with a full-page colour illustration in the catalogue:
Otto Muehl, Leben/Kunst/Werk, Aktion. Utopie. Malerei 1960–2004, MAK Vienna 2004, Verlag der Buchhandlung Walther König, 2004, p. 326

Provenance:
Private Collection, Vienna

...why, i asked patsy, is one sphinx like any other, just like an egg is like any other?
the sphinxes are to be seen as true multiples of each other, as limited editions of one and the same piece.
oh, i see, i said.
the egyptians, patsy said, were aware of everything that modernity has had to painstakingly develop since impressionism: multiples, minimal art, land art. mummy art also belongs here, and the art of packaging was particularly cultivated in this respect, the enormous stone sarcophagi in which a second, third and fourth sarcophagus were located.
who today could come up with the idea of putting a sculpture inside a sculpture! the lid of the first sarcophagus is so heavy that it can only be moved with a crane. however, the grave-robbers were able to manage it without any particular technological assistance.
we passed the temple of hatshepsut.
patsy proudly told me about this female pharaoh and flared her nostrils. she looked great in the blazing egyptian sun.
the temple complex built into the cliffs looked incredibly modern. several storeys stacked on top of each other, the cross-sections of the columns are square, with not the slightest decoration. i was blinded by this elegant splendour made of sandstone.
we scrambled up the cliffs and reached the valley of death. it looked like a gravel pit that had been all churned up. huge piles of sand. it had been churned up until the final grave had been found.
the poor pharaohs! they had hoped to find rest for eternity, hidden deep underground. nope! first came the grave-robbers, and then the archaeologists followed.
we stood in front of the stone sarcophagus of tutankhamun. there was a huge picture above it taking up the entire front of the burial chamber. it was pleasantly cool here underground, it was fantastic! an extraordinary environment!
i was intoxicated by the volume of the gently domed stone sarcophagus.
patsy said, pointing at the picture, otto, until you bring together something like that, until you’re capable of drawing lines like those in the picture, you’re not an artist.
you’re telling clever jokes, my dear patsy. you know that my self-awareness as an artist is very modest. i have the right attitude to learning and i want to learn, too. but it could take a long time until i’m able to do this. in addition, i’m almost doubting that it’s possible to learn in one lifetime what the egyptians developed over millennia. i’m sorry, patsy, i don’t have any tradition at all. my art and i are just floating in the air…
Otto Muehl, from: die reise nach ägypten, Hubert Klocker, Otto Muehl, Ausgewählte Arbeiten 1963-1986