From Bananas to Breakfast Chairs: The Viral Absurdity of Conceptual Art

When Art Becomes a Meme (and a Million-Dollar Industry)

Art has always been about pushing boundaries, but in the last decade, it’s also become about something else—going viral.

From Maurizio Cattelan’s Comedian, which ultimately sold for $6.2 million to Anna Uddenberg’s Continental Breakfast Chair, the art world seems to have developed a love affair with absurdist installations that are either genius social commentary or elaborate pranks on the ultra-wealthy.

Regardless of whether you think they belong in a museum or in a meme folder, one thing is clear: these pieces are unforgettable.

The Blueprint of Viral Conceptual Art

What do a banana taped to a wall, an unusable breakfast chair, and Duchamp’s infamous urinal have in common?

Besides making traditionalists question their life choices, they share key traits that make them perfect viral bait:

Simplicity: A banana and duct tape? A chair that defies sitting? Anyone can understand the absurdity at first glance.
Outrage Factor: The fact that people spend millions on these pieces fuels controversy, debate, and ultimately, their relevance.
Social Media Lifespan: The faster something spreads, the harder it is to ignore. Within days, these artworks become symbols, punchlines, and digital culture staples.
Reproducibility: You could tape your own banana to a wall, but does that make it a Cattelan? Technically, no—but the fact that the conversation exists is what gives the piece power.

The Duct-Taped Banana That Started It All (or Did It?)

Maurizio Cattelan’s Comedian—the now-infamous banana affixed to a wall with duct tape—sold for $120,000 at Art Basel Miami in 2019, sparking a cultural wildfire.

Within hours, memes flooded the internet, performance artist David Datuna famously ate the artwork in his ‘Hungry Artist’ performance, and debates raged over whether this was high art or just a sophisticated money-laundering scheme.

Meanwhile, cryptocurrency mogul Justin Sun later purchased Comedian for $6.2 million at Sotheby’s, only to eat it onstage at a press conference while calling it “a statement on value.”

The absurdity peaked when South Korean students started snacking on the artwork at Seoul’s Leeum Museum of Art, where a student ate the banana and taped the peel back onto the wall, replacing the eaten banana with a fresh one as if they were restocking a supermarket display.

According to art critic Jerry Saltz, the piece exemplifies “joke art” and “shock-your-Nana-art,” reflecting his critical stance on such works.

Art Basel organisers defended Comedian, stating that the sale was about the idea, not the banana itself, reinforcing the notion that conceptual art’s value lies in its intellectual engagement rather than the physical object.

The Continental Breakfast Chair: Another Day, Another Viral Masterpiece?

While Cattelan gave us the banana, Anna Uddenberg gave us the chair you can’t sit in.

The Continental Breakfast Chair, which looks like something designed by an airline executive with a grudge, forces the sitter into a submissive, immobilised position.

Whether you see it as a critique of hyper-capitalism, an exploration of femininity, or just a really uncomfortable place to take a Zoom call, it shares the same DNA as Comedian:

It’s visually striking—you don’t need to read an essay to be intrigued.
It raises questions about functionality vs. aesthetics.
It exists at the intersection of art, fashion, and meme culture.
It inspires performance art (or accidental participation, if you try to sit in it).

The chair, like the banana, became an internet talking point because it challenges our expectations.

We assume chairs should be sat in. We assume bananas shouldn’t be worth six figures. And when those expectations are subverted, we can’t help but react.

Why Do These Pieces Keep Selling for Millions?

If you’re thinking, “Who in their right mind is paying six figures for a perishable fruit?”, you’re not alone. But that’s the whole point.

Scarcity creates value. A banana is worth pennies—until it’s part of a limited-edition artwork.
The concept matters more than the object. You’re not buying a banana, you’re buying the right to say you own Comedian.
Hype is an investment. The more people talk about an artwork, the more valuable it becomes. Just ask anyone holding onto a Basquiat or a Banksy.
It’s a flex. Owning viral art is like owning a piece of internet history, and for the ultra-rich, it’s a conversation starter that doubles as a financial asset.

Auction houses like Sotheby’s and Christie’s thrive on the unpredictability of conceptual art valuations, where market perception determines worth rather than material value, as novelty-driven bidding wars create inflated valuations.

Conceptual art thrives on a perfect storm of exclusivity, controversy, and media spectacle, fuelling unpredictable valuations at major auction houses like Sotheby’s and Christie’s.

Are We the Joke, or Is the Art World Just Brilliant?

At the end of the day, conceptual art like Comedian and the Continental Breakfast Chair isn’t really about the object itself—it’s about how we react to it.

Are we laughing at the art, or is the art laughing at us?
Is this a brilliant critique of capitalism, or a way for the rich to spend absurd amounts of money without buying another yacht?
Would these pieces even exist without social media turning them into spectacles?

One thing is certain: as long as art can make us question its purpose, it’s doing something right.

And whether you’re a collector, a critic, or just someone who enjoys a good meme, there’s no denying the power of viral absurdity.

Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to go find a roll of duct tape.