Conceptual art often walks a fine line between provocation and absurdity. Few pieces have illustrated this tension more vividly than Maurizio Cattelan’s “Comedian” — a simple banana duct-taped to a wall, first exhibited at Art Basel Miami Beach in 2019. The artwork quickly became a cultural flashpoint, sparking endless discussions about the definition of art, the value we assign to objects, and the role of performance in contemporary galleries. But more recently, “Comedian” has returned to the spotlight for a reason as audacious as the piece itself: someone has eaten it. Again.
The banana, initially priced at $120,000, is recognized more for what it symbolizes than the fruit itself — a commentary on trade, worth, and possibly the commercialization of innovation. As expressed by the artist, the true piece is not the banana but the certificate of authenticity and the idea it embodies. Holders of “Comedian” are guided to regularly substitute the fruit, embracing its temporary nature and considering the process of deterioration as an element of the artwork.
However, when attendees eat the artwork — in a literal sense — they elevate the transient characteristic of the creation to a fresh degree.
The recent event took place in an exhibition area where “Comedian” was showcased, attached to a plain wall with silver duct tape, as initially designed. An attendee, described as a student, walked up to the artwork and casually removed and consumed the banana before the astonished observers. The whole episode was recorded on video, rapidly spreading across the internet and sparking renewed discussions about artistic expression, purpose, and ownership.
Interestingly, this isn’t the first time someone has consumed Cattelan’s banana. During its initial run at Art Basel, another performance artist named David Datuna made headlines by eating the fruit in front of a crowd, calling the act “art performance” and saying he respected Cattelan’s work. Despite initial confusion and security concerns, Cattelan’s team replaced the banana within minutes. No legal action was taken — and in some ways, Datuna’s act only added to the mythology surrounding the work.
The repetition of this behavior speaks volumes about the nature of conceptual art in the age of social media. Is the performance of eating the banana a meta-commentary on the original artwork? Or is it simply an attention-seeking act enabled by the virality of internet culture?
Cattelan himself is no stranger to artistic controversy. Known for his provocative installations — including a solid gold toilet titled “America” and a wax sculpture of Pope John Paul II struck by a meteorite — the Italian artist frequently blurs the lines between satire and seriousness, forcing audiences to confront their own expectations of art.
With “Comedian,” the banana serves as a reflection, showing society’s obsession with spectacle, worth, and disturbance. Whether secured to a wall with duct tape or consumed by an audience member seeking entertainment, the banana defies lasting presence, instead symbolizing transience and absurdity.
Critics of conceptual art often argue that pieces like “Comedian” lack depth, relying on shock value rather than technique. But defenders note that the reaction it evokes — from think pieces in major newspapers to performance interventions — is evidence of its impact. Art, after all, doesn’t exist in a vacuum. Its meaning is shaped by context, interpretation, and public discourse.
From a judicial perspective, the scenario is more intricate than it seems. While the banana can be substituted, consuming the fruit might still be viewed as damaging property or breaching gallery regulations. Nonetheless, those institutions and collectors dealing with Cattelan’s art are fully cognizant of its fundamentally performative essence. They generally prioritize maintaining the concept and its record over the tangible banana itself.
This raises important questions about the boundaries of participation in art. If an artwork invites engagement, where is the line between interaction and intrusion? Can an unsanctioned performance become part of the artwork’s evolution? And perhaps most intriguingly: who owns the story that unfolds when an audience member intervenes?
In today’s world dominated by digital content, art images are quickly spread and readily consumed, making the tangible piece of art almost take a back seat to its online portrayal. “Comedian” fits perfectly within this culture — an uncomplicated, nearly ludicrous image that proliferates more swiftly than the majority of great works. The banana attached to a wall is instantly turned into a meme, extraordinarily absurd, and ideally aligned with an internet-focused cultural period.
But while many see the humor, others view the artwork as a critique of the very system that elevates it. By selling a banana for six figures, Cattelan exposes the contradictions of the art world — how value can be detached from material and how commerce and creativity intersect, often uncomfortably.
Whether one sees the banana as a masterpiece or a media stunt, its staying power — both in cultural discourse and repeated performances — is undeniable. Every time someone eats it, they breathe new life into the piece, perhaps even enhancing its legacy. In a world where attention is currency, and where meaning is increasingly collaborative, “Comedian” continues to ripen.
So when another banana is inevitably taped to another wall, somewhere in a white-walled gallery, we may all wonder: is this the original joke, a new chapter, or just another bite in the ongoing conversation about what art really is?
