Duck Tape: A Penny’s Worth of Commentary on the Art World
In 2019, a banana duct-taped to a wall sold for $120,000 at Art Basel, sparking endless debate about the absurdity, brilliance, and commodification of contemporary art. Five years later, that infamous fruit’s conceptual successor has arrived—my artwork, Duck Tape: a rubber duck taped to a wall, sold for $6,200,000.01 one penny more than Maurizio Cattelan’s banana.
Why a rubber duck? Why not? While Cattelan’s banana toyed with themes of consumption and decay, Duck Tape aims to float in different waters. It’s lighthearted, and endlessly durable—a metaphorical and literal counterpoint to the ephemeral nature of fruit. “If art is meant to provoke conversation, my duck does so with a quack of humor rather than the brow-furrowing profundity often associated with the high art world.”
An Outrageous Reaction from Critics and Sotheby’s Surprise
The Sotheby’s auction house erupted into chaos as “Duck Tape” shattered expectations and egos alike. Bidders screamed, fainted, and clutched monogrammed handkerchiefs as they accused one another of “bankrupting the soul of art.” One collector reportedly attempted to fling caviar at the rubber duck but missed, while another declared, “This isn’t art; it’s war!” Security had to escort out a bidder who yelled, “Not even Da Vinci deserved this!” Yet, despite their outrage, the gavel fell, and every protester secretly wished they had been the one to win it.
The sale begs the question: why do people buy conceptual art at all? For many, it’s not about the object but the idea, the story, and the public reaction. Duck Tape was conceived as both a playful critique of art’s commodification and a test of its boundaries. What does it mean for something so inherently silly—a toy duck and a piece of tape—to be worth millions? It’s both a mockery of excess and a celebration of the art world’s willingness to embrace the absurd.
Yet, the penny-over price wasn’t just a gag. It was a statement. By deliberately outpricing the banana, Duck Tape highlights the performative nature of art auctions and their relationship to public perception. After all, how much of art’s value lies in its essence versus the buzz it generates?
But beyond satire, Duck Tape is also deeply personal. The rubber duck has long symbolized companionship, innocence, and a reminder to not take life—or art—too seriously. It’s an invitation for viewers to engage with art playfully, breaking down the often intimidating barriers of high culture.
Where does this leave the art world? Likely in the same place it’s always been—asking questions rather than answering them. Will my Duck Tape find a permanent home in a gallery, or will it end up as a meme, a fleeting moment of artistic commentary in a world moving faster than ever?
For me, the journey of “Duck Tape” is more rewarding than its sale. It’s about sparking a conversation about art’s meaning, value, and purpose. If a banana could pave the way for a duck, who knows what’s next? One thing is certain: the art world will always find something new to tape to the wall, and someone will always find a way to buy it.
So, is Duck Tape a masterpiece or a stunt? I’ll let the penny decide.
