Paulina Brandberg, Sweden’s minister for gender equality and work life, battles an intense fear of bananas that’s so severe her aides have to scout ahead to ensure the coast is clear of the fruit. Even the smallest hint—a discarded peel in a trash can far away or the faint smell of a ripened banana—can set off her anxiety. Imagine her discomfort at the sight of the bright yellow crescent sitting innocently beside other fruits.
So, it’s fair to guess she wasn’t anywhere nearby when last week’s auction news broke. In an unexpected turn of events, a banana fetched a staggering $5.2 million at Sotheby’s New York. This wasn’t your average grocery store banana. It was an art piece by Italian visual artist Maurizio Cattelan, titled “Comedian.” According to Cattelan, it’s an honest reflection on what we hold dear—though this might have seemed a bit over-the-top until folks started comparing its price tag to that of the bananas at their local Tesco.
Justin Sun, a known figure in the crypto world, is the proud new owner of this pricey fruit, having outbid the competition by a large margin. He hails it as a “cultural phenomenon,” seemingly unconcerned that its primary component—being organic—will spoil nearly as fast as a lettuce leaf used humorously to illustrate the brief tenure of former UK Prime Minister Liz Truss.
The essence of “Comedian” lies in the banana itself and the piece of duct tape that affixes it to a wall. Sun’s million-dollar purchase includes this banana, a new roll of duct tape, and a set of instructions on how to properly display the artwork, allowing for the inevitable banana swap (which, let’s be honest, is almost a given considering how common bananas are). However, the true value lies in the certificate of authenticity. While anyone can replicate the act of taping fruit to a wall, only those with the official documentation can claim the art stems from Cattelan’s creative genius. The destination of this important certificate is unknown—will Sun frame it or tuck it away securely?
Reflecting on all this, it’s clear we’ve trod this ground before. Marcel Duchamp’s “Fountain” ruffled feathers in its day. This was a porcelain urinal signed “R Mutt” back in 1917—a time when the art world was even more resistant to change. There’s also “Equivalent VIII,” American minimalist Carl Andre’s infamous assembly of bricks acquired by the Tate in 1972 for $6,000, stirring frustration among art enthusiasts even today.
Yet, the situation with “Comedian” feels somehow unique. Sun’s status as a crypto magnate dealing in virtual currencies adds another layer to the story. The art piece, while tangible, seems to belong more to the realm of the ephemeral. It was famously consumed by performance artist David Datuna, too.
This saga drips with decadence. Cattelan’s musings on the nature of value barely scratch more than the surface of any profound insight. The whole situation has cast a shadow, however ironical it might seem. Should Cattelan find any validation as a visionary from this? Perhaps he shouldn’t revel too much in these accolades. Such extravagant, joyless displays warrant some introspection about the core of artistic merit.
Art should aspire to something greater, without an exorbitant price tag, ideally costing about what you’d spend on, let’s say, a banana.
