Art world shocked as $6 million Cattelan banana eaten again

Conceptual art often walks a fine line between provocation and absurdity. Few pieces have illustrated this tension more vividly than Maurizio Cattelan’s “Comedian” — a simple banana duct-taped to a wall, first exhibited at Art Basel Miami Beach in 2019. The artwork quickly became a cultural flashpoint, sparking endless discussions about the definition of art, the value we assign to objects, and the role of performance in contemporary galleries. But more recently, “Comedian” has returned to the spotlight for a reason as audacious as the piece itself: someone has eaten it. Again.

The banana, initially priced at $120,000, is recognized more for what it symbolizes than the fruit itself — a commentary on trade, worth, and possibly the commercialization of innovation. As expressed by the artist, the true piece is not the banana but the certificate of authenticity and the idea it embodies. Holders of “Comedian” are guided to regularly substitute the fruit, embracing its temporary nature and considering the process of deterioration as an element of the artwork.

However, when attendees eat the artwork — in a literal sense — they elevate the transient characteristic of the creation to a fresh degree.

This latest incident occurred in a gallery space where “Comedian” was on display, fastened to a stark wall with gray duct tape, as originally intended. A visitor, reportedly a student, approached the piece and nonchalantly peeled and ate the banana in front of the stunned audience. The entire act was captured on video, which quickly went viral, reigniting debates around artistic expression, intent, and ownership.

Interestingly, this is not the first instance of Cattelan’s banana being eaten. When it debuted at Art Basel, a performance artist by the name of David Datuna attracted attention by consuming the piece before an audience, labeling his act as an “art performance” and expressing admiration for Cattelan’s creation. Although there was some initial bewilderment and questions about security, Cattelan’s crew quickly replaced the banana. No legal steps were pursued — and in several ways, Datuna’s actions contributed to the lore around the artwork.

The recurrence of this action says a lot about the characteristics of conceptual art in the era of social platforms. Does consuming the banana act as a self-referential critique of the initial piece? Or is it just a stunt aimed at capturing attention, made possible by the widespread nature of online culture?

Cattelan himself is accustomed to artistic controversy. Recognized for his challenging installations — such as a gold toilet named “America” and a wax figure of Pope John Paul II hit by a meteorite — the Italian creator often mixes satire with seriousness, prompting audiences to question their own perceptions of art.

With “Comedian,” the banana serves as a reflection, showing society’s obsession with spectacle, worth, and disturbance. Whether secured to a wall with duct tape or consumed by an audience member seeking entertainment, the banana defies lasting presence, instead symbolizing transience and absurdity.

Critics of conceptual art often argue that pieces like “Comedian” lack depth, relying on shock value rather than technique. But defenders note that the reaction it evokes — from think pieces in major newspapers to performance interventions — is evidence of its impact. Art, after all, doesn’t exist in a vacuum. Its meaning is shaped by context, interpretation, and public discourse.

From a judicial perspective, the scenario is more intricate than it seems. While the banana can be substituted, consuming the fruit might still be viewed as damaging property or breaching gallery regulations. Nonetheless, those institutions and collectors dealing with Cattelan’s art are fully cognizant of its fundamentally performative essence. They generally prioritize maintaining the concept and its record over the tangible banana itself.

This raises important questions about the boundaries of participation in art. If an artwork invites engagement, where is the line between interaction and intrusion? Can an unsanctioned performance become part of the artwork’s evolution? And perhaps most intriguingly: who owns the story that unfolds when an audience member intervenes?

In the digital era, where images of art circulate widely and are consumed rapidly, the physical artwork can seem almost secondary to its representation online. “Comedian” thrives in this environment — a simple, almost ridiculous image that spreads faster than most masterpieces. The banana taped to a wall is instantly memeable, perfectly absurd, and uniquely suited to an internet-driven cultural moment.

However, as some find it amusing, others perceive the piece as a commentary on the structure it thrives in. By vending a banana with a hefty price tag, Cattelan highlights the inconsistencies present in the art community — illustrating how worth can be separated from substance and how business and artistry frequently meet in disconcerting ways.

Whether one sees the banana as a masterpiece or a media stunt, its staying power — both in cultural discourse and repeated performances — is undeniable. Every time someone eats it, they breathe new life into the piece, perhaps even enhancing its legacy. In a world where attention is currency, and where meaning is increasingly collaborative, “Comedian” continues to ripen.

Therefore, when someone else fastens a banana to a different wall in a gallery with white walls, we might ponder: is this the initial jest, a fresh addition, or merely another comment in the continuous dialogue about the true nature of art?