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Kurt Schwitters, Theo van Doesburg — Eric Satie
Eric Satie + Man Ray
Man Ray + Marcel Duchamp
Marcel Duchamp — Guillaume Apollinaire
Guillaume Apollinaire — Francis Picabia
Francis Picabia — Alfred Stieglitz
Alfred Stieglitz — Marcel Duchamp
Marcel Duchamp — Walter Arensberg
 
This set of eight photographs of artworks forms a sequence of references. One artist referring to another, who then refers to another and so on, so as to present a chain of artists’ connections and relationships.

1924 sustained a return to what the politicians called “normalcy,” six years after the period of social upheaval that followed the devastation of the First World War and the 1918 flu pandemic. The Dada artists had responded to the era with novel, nonsensical artworks, sometimes political sometimes not, sometimes humorous sometimes not, reflecting the craziness and uncertainty of the time, advancing what was even thought possible in a work of art. This way of thinking and working may be relevant again today for an artist who wants to express a personal vision in difficult times.
 
Program and poster for Kleine Dada Soirée, 1922
Kurt Schwitters and Theo van Doesburg
Erik Satie playing “Rag-time Dada”

Dada hurts. Dada does not jest, for the reason that it was experienced by revolutionary men and not by philistines who demand that art be a decoration for the mendacity of their own emotions… I am firmly convinced that all art will become dadaistic in the course of time, because from Dada proceeds the perpetual urge for its renovation.“
— Richard Huelsenbeck, “Dada Lives,” 1936
 
Cadeau (Gift), Man Ray, assisted by Erik Satie, 1921

In his autobiography Man Ray recounted the story of the making of the original Cadeau: “On the day of the opening of his first solo exhibition in Paris he had a drink with the composer Erik Satie and on leaving the café saw a hardware store. There with Satie’s help—Man Ray spoke only poor French at this point—he bought the iron, some glue and some nails, and went to the gallery where he made the object on the spot. He intended his friends to draw lots for the work, called Cadeau, but the piece was stolen during the course of the afternoon.”
— Jennifer Mundy, “Notes from The Tate, London,” 2003
 
Monte Carlo Bond, Marcel Duchamp, photograph of Duchamp by Man Ray, 1924

Extracts from the Company Statutes

Clause No. 1. The aims of the company are:
1. Exploitation of roulette in Monte Carlo under the following conditions:
2. Exploitation of Trente-et-Quarante and other mines on the Cote Azur, as may be decided by the Board of Directors.

Clause No. 2. The annual income is derived from a cumulative system which is experimentally based on one hundred thousand rolls of the ball; the system is the exclusive property of the Board of Directors. The application of this system to simple chance is such that a dividend of 20% is allowed.

Clause No. 3. The Company shall be entitled, should the shareholders so declare, to buy back all or part of the shares issued, not later than one month after the date of the decision.

Clause No. 4. Payment of dividends shall take place on March 1 each year or on a twice yearly basis, in accordance with the wishes of the shareholders.
— From the back of the bond as translated by Arturo Schwarz
 
Fountain, Marcel Duchamp (William Camfield, author, 1989), cover photograph by Alfred Stieglitz, 1917, with Marsden Hartley’s The Warriors, 1913, as background. Here placerd on an infinite chessboard.

Duchamp saw the artist as a readymade to be moved through the market like a chess piece on a grid.”
— David Joselit, Société Anonyme: Modernism for America, 2006
 

C'est Ici Stieglitz Foi et Amour (This is Stieglitz / Faith and Love,
Francis Picabia, portrait of Alfred Stieglitz, 1915

Man made the machine in his own image. She has limbs which act; lungs which breathe; a heart which beats; a nervous system through which runs electricity. The phonograph is the image of his voice; the camera the image of his eye. The machine is “his daughter born without a mother.”
— Paul Haviland, “291” magazine, 1915
 

Guillaume Apollinaire, Irritable Poète,
Francis Picabia Portrait of Apollinaire, 1917

In my arrival on earth I found humanity on its last legs, devoted to fetishes, bigoted, barely capable of distinguishing good from evil—and I shall leave it intelligent, enlightened, regenerated, knowing there is neither good nor evil nor God nor devil nor spirit nor matter in distinct separateness.
— The character Dr. Cornelius Hans Peter
from Apollinaire’s novel, Que Faire, 1900
 

Apolinère Enameled, Marcel Duchamp, 1916,
A tin-sign advertisement for Sapolin ename/, altered by Duchamp

We judge the moment has come to group ourselves around Guillaume Apollinaire. More than anyone today he has broken new ground, opened new directions. He has the right to all our fervor and admiration.
— Pablo Picasso, Juan Gris, Max Jacob, Paul Dermée,
Reverdy & Blaise Cendrars, at a banquet to honor Guillaume Apollinaire, 1917
 
50ccs of Paris Air, Marcel Duchamp, 1919, a gift to Walter Arensberg
In the background: Glider Containing a Water Mill in Neighboring Metals, Duchamp's first artwork on glass, 1913–15

Duchamp purchased this “empty” ampoule from a pharmacist in Paris as a souvenir for his close friend and patron, Walter C. Arensberg. A vial with nothing in it may be the most insubstantial “work of art” imaginable. From a molecular point of view, air is not considered nothing, but when displayed so carefully in an art museum it seems to be less than one might expect. Its precise meaning was rendered even more unstable in 1949, when the ampoule was accidentally broken and repaired, thus begging the question: Is the air even from Paris anymore?
—Curator’s label, Philadelphia Art Museum, 2006
 
All photographs of artworks by Victor Landweber