The Confessor-Designate
Sunday, 8 September 2013
The Giant Rubber Duck Has No Feathers
It's taken over one hundred years from Marcel Duchamp's urinal to Florentijn Hofman's giant rubber duck, but at last we have an artist who is drawing the crowds. What began in deep cynicism among the intellectual elite (and was immediately recognized for what it was by the man in the street) continued in one manifestation or art installation after another and now we have Florentijn Hofman, a grand-offspring of these self-inseminating giants, in all his wide-eyed innocence rebelliously throwing off the jaded sensibilities of his progenitors as he superinflates the toys of childhood for the presumptive edification of the public who generously allows itself to express wonder at these "Look what I've done!" efforts. Hofman's expressed purpose is to evoke in his audience the memories of their childhood and who are we to sniff if we can't have our Madeline cake never mind eat it! What next? one might ask, but Mr. Duchamp has long departed from his urinal and doubtless wouldn't have cared to think of an answer if he were still looking over it at what floated by on the Seine. Merde!
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