Dada’s Boys: Identity and Play in Contemporary Art
Until July 16; Fruitmarket Gallery, Edinburgh

Every once in a while someone makes the fatuous claim that the feminist project is complete, and now it’s men’s turn to reassert themselves. That’s the underlying thrust of David Hopkins’ exhibition at the Fruitmarket Gallery, which traces ninety years of “laddish male discourse” back to its source in dada.

Hopkins, a recognised authority on the early 20th century movement, points to the collective naughtiness of Marcel Duchamp, Francis Picabia and Man Ray, and their schoolboyish attachment to bodily processes and imaginary machines. He traces these strands of dada all the way to present day heterosexual male art, and that of “honorary Dada’s Boy”, Sarah Lucas.

There’s no denying that possibly the most influential art-work of the 20th century – Marcel Duchamp’s notorious urinal – was essentially a piece of toilet humour. In its unmediated cheekiness, it set off an “anti-art” revolution, encouraging artists to think again about their role as craftspeople within the art establishment.

That anti-art impulse is strong in this exhibition, from the throwaway cut-and-paste jobs of the original dadaists to the brash, one-take video performance of Paul McCarthy. When Hopkins adds “homosocial humour” to the mix, he brings together some of the most irritating features of contemporary art – like the by-products of a stag night gone wrong – and assigns them serious historical value.

The most annoying thing of all is he’s right. You might not enjoy an exhibition full of it, but the “sophisticated rudery” of the dadaists has staked its claim in art history, and made its presence felt beyond the bounds of dada. Duchamp’s playful clutch of personas is clearly resurrected, for example, in Douglas Gordon’s ubiquitous Self-Portrait As Kurt Cobain As Andy Warhol As Myra Hindley As Marilyn Monroe.

A few artists, such as Roderick Buchanan, don’t quite fit the bill, but one comparison resonates beautifully. Picabia’s Blessed Virgin is a blasphemous black ink blot; knowing the title of this iconoclastic image of 1920, you can’t help but wonder if it represents a bodily fluid – perhaps that of a deflowered virgin.

Seventy-five years later, Knut Åsdam’s short video focuses unflinchingly on a growing urine stain in the crotch of a man’s trousers. Issuing from an organ which usually signifies masculine power, this stain introduces the possibility of weakness. Dadaism was born during the First World War, when men were slaughtered like lambs and women filled their jobs back home. Whether dada’s response was a celebration of freedom, or a whimper of inadequacy, remains a matter of opinion.

Catrìona Black, Sunday Herald 25.06.06