The most expensive painting of all time, the most valuable living artist, record sales at auctions, million-dollar purchases at fairs, streams of champagne at biennials, art temples for one's own ego... Such sensations and superlatives are repeatedly reported in the press. And usually, there is a certain moral outrage accompanying this: Can art really be that commercial? Or should it lie beyond the everyday, committed only to itself, obeying its own rules? Art and capital: a necessary marriage of two worlds, or even a long-term love affair? Can that work out? In this scenario, is the presence of capital not disruptive, even shameless? Or has modern art, since the end of the 19th century, not thrived precisely on this myth, on a conscious repression of the economic? And should art not only become capital when it...