Maurizio Cattelan, often labeled the art world’s most mischievous prankster, laughs off the suggestion that his work invites vandalism. When asked which pieces in his expansive new Berlin exhibition might be targeted, stolen, or consumed, the Italian sculptor insists that such actions are unnecessary. He argues that his art already addresses the absurdity of villains, imposters, and societal figures, effectively cutting them down to size.
Speaking from the subterranean level of the Neue Nationalgalerie (NNG), Cattelan moves between playful humor and profound reflection. The silver-haired artist is perhaps best known for his 2019 pieceComedianwhich featured a banana duct-taped to a wall. The work served as a droll critique of art market excesses, a point underscored when it sold for $6.2 million and the buyer subsequently ate the fruit.
Cattelan’s history of provocative installations includesAmericaa fully functional 18-carat gold toilet installed at New York’s Guggenheim in 2016. The piece gained further notoriety when the museum offered it to the White House for Donald Trump’s use instead of a requested Van Gogh painting. The golden fixture was later stolen while on display at Blenheim Palace, the birthplace of Winston Churchill.
NNG director Klaus Biesenbach notes that Cattelan is one of the few artists recognized on the street, largely due to his ability to communicate complex ideas through accessible, viral imagery. Biesenbach describes Cattelan as a deep thinker who uses humor to camouflage serious inquiries into power and history. The current exhibition, titledNightwas awarded to Cattelan as the winner of this year’s Neue Nationalgalerie prize.
Collaborating with curator Lisa Botti, Cattelan has curated a mix of new commissions and works spanning three decades. The exhibition explores themes of collective memory and the tension between horror and hope, particularly within the context of Berlin. Cattelan describes the titleNightas a metaphor for the fuzzy, dreamlike states of human existence, noting that after the night comes the dawn.
The exhibition features several iconic and haunting pieces. At the entrance, the 2003 workNeverdepicts Oskar—the child witness from Günter Grass’sThe Tin Drumsilently beating a drum. Inside, the 2001 sculptureHimshows a kneeling figure revealed to be Adolf Hitler, positioned in a prayer-like stance. It facesDawna 2007 work featuring a female figure with real human hair pinned in a crucifixion pose. Thousands of stuffed pigeons hang from the ceiling, creating what Cattelan describes as a “menacing presence,” though Botti suggests the work also touches on the holy spirit and optimism.
The Hitler sculpture, which sold for $17.2 million in 2016, remains one of his most controversial pieces. It was previously displayed in Warsaw on the site of a former wartime ghetto, evoking memories of Willy Brandt’s historic 1970 gesture of kneeling before the Monument to the Ghetto Heroes. Cattelan maintains that Hitler represents universal evil in his work, stating that the figure could just as easily have been another historical tyrant.
Cattelan praises the NNG’s modernist architecture, noting that the building’s design, which lacks a clear separation between interior and exterior spaces, forces a direct conversation with his art. He acknowledges that he is now in his 60s and is beginning to consider his legacy and the future of his work, though he currently has no formal foundation. He admits that he still experiences a cycle of exhilaration and panic before every major show, describing the process as a desperate, addictive challenge.
Reflecting on his career, Cattelan recalls the pressure of the 2010s, which led to a highly publicized retirement before his eventual return to the art scene. He notes that he continues to find inspiration in Berlin, a city he believes still carries the scars and contradictions of history. Having co-curated the fourth Berlin Biennale in 2006, he views this return as a kind of homecoming, crediting the city with helping him rediscover his creative focus. The report also notes that “There is no need to vandalise anything,” says the trim, soulful Italian, explaining that he has already taken care of all that, given how the work cuts villains, imposters and straw men down to size. The report also notes that “But,” he says, referring to the show’s more daring works, “maybe we need someone to resuscitate people.”. The report also notes that cattelan, who speaks in a lilting English, grins broadly, a mischievous glint in his brown eyes. The report also notes that then hilarious when its buyer took a bite out of his purchase and swallowed it, the joke became even funnier when it sold for $6.2m. The report also notes that “He reached a level of accessibility with these very easy-to-communicate ideas: ‘Oh God, a person puts a banana on the wall and it’s sold for six million!’ He is a very deep thinker who camouflages seriousness with humour, and who camouflages the sublime with irony.”. The report also notes that “They were part of a different conversation,” he says.
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