Duchamp - The Art of the Prank

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“Maurizio Cattelan Is No Duchamp,” by Ed Simon, Hyperallergic, November 19, 2025.

One elevated the prosaic. The other merely gilded the familiar.

In 1913, when Igor Stravinsky premiered his orchestral work The Rite of Spring at the Théâtre des Champs-Élysées, Parisian audiences were so incensed by the discordant score that a riot broke out. Four years later, New Yorkers were only slightly more genteel toward French artist Marcel Duchamp’s submission of a ready-made upside-down urinal autographed by the fictitious creator “R. Mutt” to the inaugural exhibition of New York’s Society of Independent Artists.

A symphonic paean to pagan energy and a urinal may seem disparate in intention, but both Stravinsky and Duchamp’s works expressed the radicalism of the early 20th-century avant-garde, questioning certainties and upending values — to paraphrase Karl Marx, making all that is solid melt into air. For Duchamp, “Fountain” wasn’t just a provocation, but also a philosophical comment about the nature of art itself: that a prosaic object can be elevated by framing alone. According to critic Margan Falconer in How to be Avant-Garde: Modern Artists and the Quest to End Art (2025), Duchamp was asking, “Why couldn’t art be a seamless, enveloping, immersive environment in which everyone will live and work?” Read the whole article here.

Is Grayson Perry right – can we no longer be outraged by art and literature? From Manet”s Olympia to Pussy Riot and Houellebecq, Adam Thirlwell presents a short history of shock

Can art still shock?
by Adam Thirlwell
The Guardian
23 January 2015

Olympia by à‰douard Manet. Photograph: Corbis

For a long time, I”ve been nostalgic for the era of shock. It”s with a certain fondness that I reflect on the crazed year of 1857, which began with Gustave Flaubert in court for his first novel, Madame Bovary (in the presence of a stenographer, hired by Flaubert, for the benefit of an incredulous posterity), followed, six months later, by Charles Baudelaire, on trial for his first book of poems, Les Fleurs du Mal. On both occasions, the unlucky prosecutor was Ernest Pinard, who lamented “this unhealthy fever which induces writers to portray everything, to describe everything, to say everything”. The era of grand trials! Or if not trials, then scandales: like the first night of Stravinsky”s Rite of Spring in 1913, with its catcalling audience; or Duchamp”s impish Fountain – his notorious urinal, signed by R Mutt, submitted to the exhibition of the Society of Independent Artists in New York in 1917, but rejected by its committee.

I was nostalgic because it seemed to me that shock was no longer possible. Or, perhaps more precisely, shock was no longer admissible. We are all, pronounced Grayson Perry, bohemians now – and therefore unshockable by art. And if this is true, it signals a grand and maybe melancholy shift in the nature of art, and in the relation of art to society. It also appears to me – considering, let”s say, Pussy Riot and Ai Weiwei – a slightly provincial argument. And then came the attack on Charlie Hebdo. Continue reading “Can Art Still Shock?”

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Can Art Still Shock?