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Canter through Dada

Andrew Lambirth

Tuesday, 18th March 2008

Duchamp, Man Ray, Picarbia
Tate Modern, until 26 May

Juan Muñoz
Tate Modern, until 27 April

Machines are the very next incarnation, and both Picabia and Duchamp emerge full-grown. Here is Picabia’s striking and intriguing wheel-complex, unhelpfully entitled ‘Daughter Born Without a Mother’, done in gouache and metallic paint on printed paper. Here, too, is Duchamp’s superbly drawn ‘Chocolate Grinder No. 1’ and the exquisitely lyrical ‘Coffee Mill’ from the Tate’s collection. Man Ray by contrast seems still adolescent with his phallic ‘Factory in the Forest’. Perhaps here is first sown the doubt over Man Ray’s credentials, talented photographer though he undoubtedly was. Certainly he’s not much of a painter, though he made memorable images in many media. It could be argued that he was really an inspired opportunist, in the right place at the right time. I’m inclined to be a bit more generous than that, though he could definitely be seen as the weakest link in this particular triumvirate.

The fifth room stresses the friendship aspect of the show, with various photos of the chaps: Duchamp with star-shaped tonsure or in drag as Rose Sélavy, Man Ray with half a beard (an affectation more recently adopted by J.S.G. Boggs, who made a mint out of painting banknotes), and Picabia imitating Rodin’s sculpture of Balzac by throwing out his chest and combing his hair over his forehead. All good fun, and a lull before the intellectual storm of room 6, where we are greeted by Duchamp’s masterpiece ‘The Large Glass’, in the version made by Richard Hamilton. This room is full of iconic stuff (including the gorgeous photos of dust breeding), and approaches the heart of Duchamp’s mystery, through the crisp forms of his ‘Nine Malic Moulds’. It’s tricksy stuff, and probably better appreciated as formal structure (lead on glass, carefully drilled holes, measured lengths) than as mind games. ‘The Large Glass’ is otherwise known as ‘The Bride Stripped Bare By Her Bachelors, even’. There’s poetry here, and alchemy and chess, but it can’t ever be completely explained. Duchamp was too addicted to enigma.