$6M banana artwork by Maurizio Cattelan has been eaten again

Conceptual art often teeters precariously between challenging viewers and verging on the ridiculous. Few artworks capture this dynamic as strikingly as Maurizio Cattelan’s “Comedian” — essentially a banana affixed to a wall with duct tape, which was first displayed at Art Basel Miami Beach in 2019. This creation swiftly evolved into a cultural phenomenon, igniting endless debates concerning the essence of art, the worth we attribute to items, and the significance of performance in modern galleries. However, “Comedian” has recently regained attention for a reason just as bold as the artwork itself: someone has consumed it. Once more.

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.

But when visitors consume the art — literally — they take the ephemeral nature of the piece to a new level.

The recent event took place in an exhibition area where “Comedian” was showcased, attached to a plain wall with silver duct tape, as initially designed. An attendee, described as a student, walked up to the artwork and casually removed and consumed the banana before the astonished observers. The whole episode was recorded on video, rapidly spreading across the internet and sparking renewed discussions about artistic expression, purpose, 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 no stranger to artistic controversy. Known for his provocative installations — including a solid gold toilet titled “America” and a wax sculpture of Pope John Paul II struck by a meteorite — the Italian artist frequently blurs the lines between satire and seriousness, forcing audiences to confront their own expectations of art.

With “Comedian,” the banana becomes a mirror, reflecting back society’s fascination with spectacle, value, and disruption. Whether duct-taped to a wall or digested by a performance-hungry audience member, the banana resists permanence, acting instead as a symbol of impermanence and absurdity.

Those who criticize conceptual art frequently claim that works such as “Comedian” lack substance and depend more on surprise than craftsmanship. However, supporters point out that the responses it generates — ranging from in-depth articles in prominent newspapers to performance acts — demonstrate its influence. Ultimately, art is not isolated; its significance is formed by surroundings, analysis, and public conversation.

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 people perceive the banana as an artwork or a publicity gimmick, its durability — both in cultural discussions and its reiterated enactments — cannot be ignored. Each instance of consumption revitalizes the artwork, potentially augmenting its significance. In an era where focus acts as currency, and where meaning is more often collectively created, “Comedian” keeps maturing.

So when another banana is inevitably taped to another wall, somewhere in a white-walled gallery, we may all wonder: is this the original joke, a new chapter, or just another bite in the ongoing conversation about what art really is?