Arts writer Jessica Lack looks at how jokes and satire have impacted the cultural politics of art, as she takes part in our second Google Hangout: a live online discussion on comedy and art
A condemned man is being led to the gallows on a Monday. What a way to start the week.
Andre Breton, Anthology of Black Humour
Humour has been a key component in art over the past 100 years. This subversive element can be traced from the early twentieth-century avant gardes, like Dada and Surrealism, through Fluxus and Pop, to the work of contemporary artists today.
Yet relatively little has been written about how jokes, satire, wordplay and humour have had an impact on the cultural politics of art. Which is interesting if you consider that the most influential work of art of the past century is Marcel Duchamps Fountain 1917, an upturned urinal.
Duchamp was part of the Dada art movement that responded to the atrocities of the First World War with an absurdist humour, mocking the civilization that sanctified such horror.
In 1940 the leader of the Surrealist movement André Breton came up with a term to characterise this gallows comedy. He called it Black Humour explaining that the wit often arose from a victim, with whom the audience empathised.
Perhaps this is why artists are so fascinated by clowns, as a symbol of this dark heart of comedy. Bas Jan Ader was inspired by the silent actor Buster Keaton, whose deadpan performances played on the tensions between comic incident and tragic fate.
Bruce Naumans multi-media installation Clown Torture 1987, depicted a clown, smeary in grease paint and lipstick undergoing varying stages of a nervous breakdown. For Nauman, a clowns mask was a potent metaphor of the fraught relationship between reality and artifice, which is such fertile ground for comedy.
Perhaps humours defining characteristic is the ridiculing of the status quo. It is no surprise that artists, who are conditioned to question the boundaries within which societies operate, naturally respond to this. Artists like Paul McCarthy and Jake and Dinos Chapman take great delight in work that plays with what is deemed acceptable in todays society. (See McCarthy’s Train, Mechanical 2003–9, and Jake and Dinos Chapman’s Ubermensch 1995, for example).
While there are many examples of art that is rooted in comedy, little of it is actually funny; in fact Naumans is distressing. It is an example of how art and humour will always be awkward bedfellows.
In Henri Bergsons essay Laughter, he wrote that the comic does not exist outside the pale of what is strictly human – a statement that the artists David Shrigley and Maurizio Cattelan seem to agree with, with their stuffed animals adopting human characteristics that externalise our doubts and fears. Breton said humour was the mortal enemy of sentimentality. So if you’re hoping for a laugh, ditch the cute kittens and go for the dead dog.