Death Sentences by Kawamata Chiaki Page A

the early twentieth century, which makes him a complete pain in the ass for many of us."
    His feelings of friendship and appreciation had remained unchanged over the years.
    Marcel Duchamp unexpectedly withdrew from the world of art in 1923, leaving his opus Large Glass unfinished, and thereafter he became deeply absorbed in chess, and when asked about his work, as if to vanish in a puff of smoke, he would reply, "I am a breathing machine," yet he continued to garner attention and acclaim among surrealists for various experiments with images and word games.

    Among those in New York, Duchamp was one of the few intellectuals for whom Breton felt boundless respect, and at the same time he still found him to be a pain in the ass.
    In 1939, he published an anthology of his word experiments under the title RroseSelaay.
    Surely, he wouldn't be overwhelmed.
    It was hard to imagine anyone better than Duchamp for figuring out who Who May was, and what the world he had made ultimately was.
    Without a word, Breton handed him the manuscript of "Another World."
    As soon he began to read, Duchamp opened his eyes wide and let forth a shout.
    "Genius!"
    He read on.
    Gradually, however, his look changed to one of disapproval.
    Nonetheless, he continued reading until the end.
    Setting the manuscript on the table, he shrugged his shoulders slightly.
    "Andre, it's nothing to worry about," Duchamp said. "This is a sort of, well, psychic ability. But you need not worry."
    "Psychic ability?"
    Breton asked in surprise.
    "What does that mean?"
    "You must have heard of it. For instance, there are people who can move a box of matches on the table without touching it, or read what's written on a card facing down-"
    Duchamp grinned broadly.
    "-it's that sort of thing."
    Breton looked at Duchamp. With a soft sigh, he shook his head from side to side.

    "You mean to say that this Another World' is a kind of magic act like moving things with the mind or fortune-telling?"
    "Not at all," Duchamp flatly disagreed. "It's not an act. It is real. There is no doubt that it is a genuine psychic ability."
    "There truly exist people who possess psychic abilities such as psychokinesis and clairvoyance. I am convinced of it. In fact, I have met with one such person. With her eyes closed, without moving a finger, with only the power of mental concentration, she proved able to lift my fountain pen about five centimeters above the desk. It was quite an amazing sight! And there was no possibility of a trick. I am certain of it. There really are people with psychic abilities in this world-"
    But if that's
    "Wait a minute."
    Duchamp said, raising his right index finger and waving it from side to side.
    "Such an ability is truly astonishing. It is a genuinely extraordinary ability that ordinary people could not hope to imitate. That is why those who see it are inevitably awestruck. And yet-that's all there is to it."
    "That's all?"
    "Precisely." Duchamp nodded gravely. "Are you still with me? What is the use of having such psychic abilities? Think about it. It is far easier to move a pen or a matchbox with the hands. As for cards, one need only flip them over to read them. Of course, it would seem useful for gamblers, but even then there are people who are skilled with dice and cards without any recourse to psychic abilities. In any event, it wouldn't be of much use in playing chess."
    Rolling his eyes impishly, Duchamp went on.
    "Such psychic abilities are really only `different' for those like us. It is an `extra' ability only in that it is beyond what people need. Consequently, even though it is amazing, no one out there actually takes it seriously."
    Breton caught his breath.

    He finally grasped the significance of what Duchamp was saying.
    (That's it ... indeed ...)
    Indeed, he had the feeling that the tangle of problems was partly unraveling.
    And yet-
    "But in any case he-"
    Still uncertain what he wished to say, Breton began speaking.
    "In any case, can't we say that