El arte visual es siempre visual y las palabras poco pueden añadir o restar a su valor. Por mucho que uno ensalce la obra de cierto artista o se ponga de acuerdo con varios amigos para ponerla a caer de un burro, su valor se medirá siempre de cara al espectador.Lo que dice el artista al respecto de sus propias creaciones, sin embargo, merece la pena mirarse más detenidamente, a pesar de que nunca puede sustituir a las obras en sí. Hablo hoy, en concreto, de un libro de cartas de Marcel Duchamp. Quizá interese más que en otros casos acercarse a las consideraciones de este personaje acerca del arte, término que repetidamente aparece entrecomillado en los textos recogidos aquí.
Marcel Duchamp (Blainville-Crevon, 1878 – Neuilly-sur-Seine, 1956) ha pasado a la historia del arte gracias a sus célebres readymades, objetos cotidianos que el artista, al elegirlos, eleva a la categoría de obras de arte. Mucho se podría debatir hoy, tantos años después, acerca de si estas piezas constituyen o no obras de arte, ya que a lo largo de los escritos recogidos en este libro Duchamp nunca se refiere a ellas como tal. Es innegable, en cualquier caso, que estos objetos abrieron –voluntaria o involuntariamente– una vía de no retorno en el arte a partir de su toma en consideración en la década de 1960 (hasta entonces nadie se los había tomado muy en serio). Por ello considero que seguir hablando de vanguardias formalistas después de los readymades es, cuando menos, muy cuestionable.
En estas cartas se destila continuamente un aire de cierto desprecio hacia todo lo que rodea al mundo del arte, desde las galerías parisinas que aprovechan los cambios de moda para recuperar a pintores modernos antes ignorados hasta el profundo cuestionamiento de la idea de posteridad. Uno de los textos más interesantes, creo yo, es la carta que envía en 1952 a su cuñado pintor, Jean Crotti. Éste le había pedido en una misiva anterior su opinión acerca de su obra, y la respuesta de Duchamp no tiene desperdicio. Entre otras cosas, equipara la actividad artística al juego de la ruleta en los casinos de Montecarlo, refiriéndose irónicamente al importante papel que juega la suerte a la hora de que a un artista se le tome en consideración y a otro no. Además, lo que un día es rabiosamente moderno se convierte con el paso de los años y las modas en una “nuez seca” que catalogan los historiadores del arte antes de exponerla en un museo. Su consejo final es aparentemente sencillo, pero de difícil cumplimiento en el ámbito del arte contemporáneo: “Haz menos autoanálisis y trabaja con placer sin preocuparte de las opiniones, la tuya o la de los demás”.
Las reflexiones recogidas en estas páginas son lúcidas reflexiones acerca del arte contemporáneo, que adquieren más importancia si consideramos que están escritas por uno de sus protagonistas más representativos, acaso el más importante si observamos el panorama del arte actual (del arte y de todo lo que lo rodea). Pienso que estos textos son hoy incluso más pertinentes que cuando fueron escritos. Siempre nos quedará la duda de qué hubiera pensado el propio Duchamp sobre el estudio exhaustivo del que sus readymades han sido objeto. A juzgar por esta recopilación de cartas, pienso que se reiría abiertamente si descubriera que su urinario se ha convertido en una de esas nueces secas que albergan los museos.
Cartas sobre el arte (1916-1956). Marcel Duchamp. Traducción de Viviana Narotzky. Elba. Barcelona, 2010. Este libro es una traducción de Lettres sur l’art et ses alentours 1916-1956, recopilado por André Gervais (L’Echoppe, 2006), que es, a su vez, una selección de textos de The Selected Correspondence of Marcel Duchamp (Ludion, 2000).
Ideas on contemporary art
Visual arts are always visual, and words can do little in order to add or subtract. No matter how much one celebrates the work of a certain artist or agrees with various friends so it receives bad critics, its value will always be measured when confronted with the spectator.
What an artist says about his own creations always deserves, on the other hand, a closer look, in spite of the fact that it will never be a substitute of the works themselves. I speak today, specifically, of a book which collects letters by Marcel Duchamp. It may be more interesting than in other cases to approach this artist’s considerations on art, a term which repeatedly appears in inverted comas in the texts presented here.
Marcel Duchamp (Blainville-Crevon, 1878 – Neuilly-sur-Seine, 1956) earned a place in art history thanks to his readymades, everyday objects which the artist, in choosing them, elevates to the category of works of art. If these pieces are works of art or not is something about which much could be said even today, so many years later, since Duchamp never refers to them as such in this book. It’s undeniable, in any case, that these objects opened up a path of no return for art since they began to be taken into account in the 1960’s (before then, no one had paid much attention to them). I, therefore, consider that to continue to talk about formalist avant-gardes after the birth of readymades is, to say the least, very questionable.
These letters continuously ooze an air of certain disregard towards everything which has to do with the art world, from the Parisian galleries that take advantage of the changes in fashion and recover the work of forgotten modern painters to the profound questioning of the idea of posterity. One of the most interesting texts, I think, is a letter he sent in 1952 to his brother-in-law, the painter Jean Crotti. The latter had asked him for his opinion on his work, and Duchamp’s response has no waste. Amongst other things, he compares artists to the roulette players in Montecarlo’s casinos, ironically referring to the importance of luck when it comes to celebrating an artist and ignoring another. Furthermore, what today is rabidly modern will become, with the passing of time and fashions, a ‘dry walnut’ classified by art historians before it is exhibited in a museum. His last advice is apparently simple, but difficult to achieve in the context of modern and contemporary art: ‘Do less self-analysis and work with pleasure without worrying about opinions, your own or those of others.’
The ideas brought together in these pages are lucid observations about modern art, which grow ever more important if we take into account the fact that they are written by one of its key protagonists, possibly the most important of all if we observe the panorama of contemporary art (art and everything that surrounds it). I think these texts are even more important today than when they were written. We will always doubt what Duchamp himself would have thought about the exhaustive studies his readymades have been submitted to. Judging by this collection of letters, I think he would laugh out loud if he found out his ‘fountain’ has been transformed into one of those walnuts preserved in museums.
Cartas sobre el arte (1916-1956). Marcel Duchamp. Translation by Viviana Narotzky. Elba. Barcelona, 2010. The book is a translation of Lettres sur l’art et ses alentours 1916-1956, compiled by André Gervais (L’Echoppe, 2006), which itself is a selection of texts from The Selected Correspondence of Marcel Duchamp (Ludion, 2000).
What an artist says about his own creations always deserves, on the other hand, a closer look, in spite of the fact that it will never be a substitute of the works themselves. I speak today, specifically, of a book which collects letters by Marcel Duchamp. It may be more interesting than in other cases to approach this artist’s considerations on art, a term which repeatedly appears in inverted comas in the texts presented here.
Marcel Duchamp (Blainville-Crevon, 1878 – Neuilly-sur-Seine, 1956) earned a place in art history thanks to his readymades, everyday objects which the artist, in choosing them, elevates to the category of works of art. If these pieces are works of art or not is something about which much could be said even today, so many years later, since Duchamp never refers to them as such in this book. It’s undeniable, in any case, that these objects opened up a path of no return for art since they began to be taken into account in the 1960’s (before then, no one had paid much attention to them). I, therefore, consider that to continue to talk about formalist avant-gardes after the birth of readymades is, to say the least, very questionable.
These letters continuously ooze an air of certain disregard towards everything which has to do with the art world, from the Parisian galleries that take advantage of the changes in fashion and recover the work of forgotten modern painters to the profound questioning of the idea of posterity. One of the most interesting texts, I think, is a letter he sent in 1952 to his brother-in-law, the painter Jean Crotti. The latter had asked him for his opinion on his work, and Duchamp’s response has no waste. Amongst other things, he compares artists to the roulette players in Montecarlo’s casinos, ironically referring to the importance of luck when it comes to celebrating an artist and ignoring another. Furthermore, what today is rabidly modern will become, with the passing of time and fashions, a ‘dry walnut’ classified by art historians before it is exhibited in a museum. His last advice is apparently simple, but difficult to achieve in the context of modern and contemporary art: ‘Do less self-analysis and work with pleasure without worrying about opinions, your own or those of others.’
The ideas brought together in these pages are lucid observations about modern art, which grow ever more important if we take into account the fact that they are written by one of its key protagonists, possibly the most important of all if we observe the panorama of contemporary art (art and everything that surrounds it). I think these texts are even more important today than when they were written. We will always doubt what Duchamp himself would have thought about the exhaustive studies his readymades have been submitted to. Judging by this collection of letters, I think he would laugh out loud if he found out his ‘fountain’ has been transformed into one of those walnuts preserved in museums.
Cartas sobre el arte (1916-1956). Marcel Duchamp. Translation by Viviana Narotzky. Elba. Barcelona, 2010. The book is a translation of Lettres sur l’art et ses alentours 1916-1956, compiled by André Gervais (L’Echoppe, 2006), which itself is a selection of texts from The Selected Correspondence of Marcel Duchamp (Ludion, 2000).
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