Would You Like This Art If You Didn’t Know Who Made It?
Would you buy a Mark Rothko painting if it weren’t signed? Imagine standing before a vast, color-soaked canvas, its deep hues pulling you into its contemplative void. But what if, instead of the revered “Rothko” signature in the corner, the name read “Bob Smith”? Be honest — would it feel the same?
Anonymity — or the lack thereof — has long shaped how we perceive and value art. In 1917, Marcel Duchamp tested this very notion when he submitted Fountain, a porcelain urinal signed “R. Mutt,” to the Society of Independent Artists’ exhibition in New York. Despite the society’s principle of accepting all submissions without judgment, the committee was scandalized and swiftly rejected the piece, declaring it “by no definition, a work of art.”
Duchamp’s anonymity allowed him to remove his personal reputation from the equation, forcing the audience to grapple with the concept instead of the creator. By divorcing the art from its author, Duchamp challenged a world obsessed with identity, fame, and brand value.
Art has always danced on the line between idea and identity. We celebrate artists not just for their work but for their stories, struggles, and personas. But what happens when the story overshadows the substance? Does knowing the artist elevate the work — or does it distract us from its core message?
At Open Ulysses, we’re conducting a small experiment of our own. By staying semi-anonymous, at least for now, we aim to strip away distractions. Our goal isn’t to hide but to focus your attention where it matters: on the work itself.
Like Duchamp, we’re inviting you to engage with the idea, free from the noise of names and reputations.
