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thecommonswings's review against another edition
5.0
In the excellent Ruth Brandon book on the surrealists, Marcel Duchamp hovers like a spectre over the action just occasionally shimmying into full view with an idea or concept that has probably the most influence on the thinking of the movements of Dada and surrealism. But he is hard to pin down, a phantom that Andre Breton desperately wants to cling to but never quite does
Duchamp is still pretty hard to read after reading this wonderful book. He feels like a sort of blur of an artist, almost coming to focus but always resisting it: one of a group of artistic siblings, but more thoughtful than any of them; about the only person linked to surrealism who encouraged the female artists in the movement in their own right (not quite a proto feminist though; there’s some problematic stuff here but even as a sexual dilettante he was remarkably faithful to even the most brief of flings in his own way); a huge influence on the move of art away from the figurative to the conceptual but also never quite fitting into any mould himself... he’s fascinating and frustrating and fascinatingly frustrating
But Tomkins real genius - and genius it is - is to confront this most thoughtful and basically absent of artists in clear, lucid terms, explaining his ideas in a way that you don’t quite realise how much erudition has been provided to you until you move on to the next big idea. Tomkins sort of suggests that his expertise in art almost comes from Duchamp himself, after a rather touching interview he relates towards the end of the book. Tomkins is a very funny writer, delighting in Duchamp’s humour and with a particular brand of eye rolling disdain for the self important (mostly Breton and fellow Duchamp expert Arturo Schwarz, but even the latter is treated pretty sympathetically in the end). It’s a beautifully written book that never feels like it’s over reaching or under selling the subject. Duchamp feels at the end of it all just as nebulous as ever but Tomkins has managed to evoke something of the man’s spirit and wit to which we can be eternally grateful
Duchamp is still pretty hard to read after reading this wonderful book. He feels like a sort of blur of an artist, almost coming to focus but always resisting it: one of a group of artistic siblings, but more thoughtful than any of them; about the only person linked to surrealism who encouraged the female artists in the movement in their own right (not quite a proto feminist though; there’s some problematic stuff here but even as a sexual dilettante he was remarkably faithful to even the most brief of flings in his own way); a huge influence on the move of art away from the figurative to the conceptual but also never quite fitting into any mould himself... he’s fascinating and frustrating and fascinatingly frustrating
But Tomkins real genius - and genius it is - is to confront this most thoughtful and basically absent of artists in clear, lucid terms, explaining his ideas in a way that you don’t quite realise how much erudition has been provided to you until you move on to the next big idea. Tomkins sort of suggests that his expertise in art almost comes from Duchamp himself, after a rather touching interview he relates towards the end of the book. Tomkins is a very funny writer, delighting in Duchamp’s humour and with a particular brand of eye rolling disdain for the self important (mostly Breton and fellow Duchamp expert Arturo Schwarz, but even the latter is treated pretty sympathetically in the end). It’s a beautifully written book that never feels like it’s over reaching or under selling the subject. Duchamp feels at the end of it all just as nebulous as ever but Tomkins has managed to evoke something of the man’s spirit and wit to which we can be eternally grateful
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