Duchamp, Susan Polgar and the 64 squares
Joueur d'échecs (The Chess Game), Marcel Duchamp, 1910
The next two years belong, in a curious sense, to Marcel Duchamp (1887-1968) and chess. Exhibitions, celebrations and simultaneous displays are appearing across New York, with the cheerful persistence of official notices, except that these notices concern art, genius and the mysterious kingdom of the sixty-four squares. The focal point was a spectacular performance by Grandmaster Zsusza (Susan) Polgar, the senior member of that formidable triumvirate of chess-playing sisters at the Museum of Modern Art in New York. This was designed to mark their major Duchamp retrospective, from April 12 and running until August, after which it will transfer to the Philadelphia Museum of Art, subsequently arriving at the Georges Pompidou Centre in Paris by the Spring of 2027. There are also several major events in the pipeline for 2028, to mark the 60th anniversary of Duchamp’s death.
Several years ago a DADA Movement exhibition was staged in the Pompidou Centre. The work of Marcel Duchamp naturally took centre stage. One of the exhibits was a chess set designed by the Master himself, a set on which I had personally played while visiting Alexina “Teeny” Duchamp (Marcel’s widow) at her chateau just outside the capital.
Spotting the familiar set, I approached and leaned towards it to gain a closer look. At this point a legion of gendarmes leapt out of hiding and ordered me to retreat from the holy relic of Duchampian art. Fifteen minutes later, after we had left the gallery, a lunatic armed with a hammer attacked the set, inflicting some damage — which was, fortunately, easily reparable.
Readers of this column will know my enduring fascination with Duchamp, the revolutionary artist who discovered that chess could be both a game and a philosophy. This interest has recently been renewed by the catalogue raisonné of Duchamp’s games, a remarkable project being edited by my friend Adam Black. Everyone knows that Duchamp played chess. The more interesting question is whether anyone has considered how well he played.
The answer is that the artist played rather better than popular mythology suggests. Two stories have followed Duchamp around like obedient but unreliable servants: that in 1923 he “gave up art for chess”, and that in 1927 his bride glued his chess pieces to the board in despair at losing her husband to the sixty-four squares. These stories are charming, but myths often become most successful precisely when they prevent us from seeing the truth beneath them.
The truth is impressive enough. In 1925 the French Chess Federation recognised Duchamp as a Master, and between 1928 and 1933 he represented France in four Chess Olympiads. He was not a tourist in the world of chess; he was a citizen. He wrote a chess book, translated another, reported on chess for the newspaper Ce Soir, served the French Chess Federation and helped organise chess events. While others treated chess as a pastime, Duchamp treated it almost as a second country.
His love for the game was visible long before he became a serious competitive player. His paintings of 1910 and 1911, The Chessplayers and The Portrait of Chessplayers, reveal not merely people moving pieces but minds entering combat. Harry Golombek observed in his Encyclopaedia of Chess that the latter work captured the process of chess-playing more completely than many conventional representations. Mark Kremer later argued in New In Chess that Duchamp was fascinated less by the elegance of chess than by its isolation—the way it created a sealed universe apart from ordinary life. That, perhaps, was the secret of its attraction for a man who spent his career questioning the boundaries between art and reality.
I never knew Marcel Duchamp personally, though I knew his widow, Teeny. I once watched her play chess with the late and much lamented British artist Barry Martin in her chateau outside Paris, beneath a copy of Duchamp’s celebrated Nude Descending a Staircase. The house itself seemed to be a Duchampian chessboard: part artwork, part joke, part philosophical puzzle. It even contained a vast blue bath shaped like a hippopotamus, designed by Niki de Saint Phalle for Duchamp’s friend, the avant-garde composer John Cage.
I knew Cage as well, and played chess against him many times. He told me that he had learned chess in order to communicate with Duchamp without having to ask the clumsy question, “What did you mean by…?” With Barry Martin, I once organised Cage’s birthday party at the Chelsea Arts Club, where the cake was made in the shape of Duchamp’s notorious Fountain—the inverted urinal that changed the history of art by proving that a joke can sometimes become a masterpiece.
Cage’s final collaboration with Duchamp was the performance piece Reunion, a musical chess game in which Teeny acted as referee and each move produced electronically generated sounds. It was the perfect union of two minds who both understood that rules do not restrict imagination; they release it.
Duchamp’s chess strength is also revealed in his games. His most famous recorded defeat, against Le Lionnais in Paris in 1932, has unfortunately overshadowed his successes. He drew with the great Franco-Polish grandmaster Savielly Tartakower in 1928, held the US champion Frank Marshall to a draw at the Hamburg Olympiad in 1930, and defeated George Koltanowski, the Belgian champion and celebrated blindfold player, in a game full of tactical invention and paradoxical ideas.
The official description of Duchamp by the French Chess Federation in 1924 called his play “profound and solid”, praising his “imperturbable coolness” and “ingenious style”. Those words are worth remembering, especially the opening phrase: Étant donné—“given that”. It is tempting to believe that Duchamp carried that phrase with him, eventually transforming it into the title of his final great installation.
Perhaps this is the real connection between Duchamp and chess. Both ask us to look again at what we think we already understand. The artist became a chess player; the chess player became an artist. The board became a canvas, and the canvas became a problem to be solved.
Duchamp did not abandon art for chess. He discovered that chess was simply another form of art—one in which the masterpiece disappears the moment it is created, leaving behind only memory, mystery and the eternal possibility of another move.
Here are Susan Polgar’s own impressions of the event over which she presided:
“Fifty VIPs from the art world were invited to participate in the 50-board simultaneous exhibition at the Museum of Modern Art to commemorate Marcel Duchamp’s birthday. Some travelled from overseas and across the United States for this special occasion. I myself just flew back from Budapest for this event. A few notable participants (among many) included:
• Ai Weiwei
• Marcel Dzama
• Donna Dotson
• Lizzy Gabay, who also was the last player to finish the simul.
“We were also honored to have VIP supporters such as Chess Hall of Famer Bruce Pandolfini and Kimberly Doo McVay, among others.
Most participants arrived by 10:30 a.m. and received a personal tour of the Duchamp exhibition led by Francis Naumann, the renowned Duchamp scholar, who originated the idea of combining chess and art to celebrate Marcel Duchamp’s birthday.
“The simultaneous exhibition began at noon. Over the course of five hours, thousands and thousands of enthusiastic spectators filled the museum—from the ground floor all the way up to the fourth-floor balcony—cheering on the players. It was one of the most electrifying atmospheres I have ever experienced in my chess career.
“The final score was 50-0. Some stayed until around 10 pm to continue chatting about chess and art! Thousands and thousands of spectators were on hand to witness this spectacular event celebrating Duchamp’s birthday. Big thanks to MoMA, WorldChessHOF, all the sponsors, and everyone involved in putting on this amazing event!”
Three games demonstrate the ultimate crushing power with which a prodigy, an artist and a writer were respectively despatched by Susan Polgar.
Zsuzsa Polgar vs. Shiv Dubey
Duchamp’s 139th Birthday Simul, MoMA NYC, 2026
- d4 Nf6 2. Nf3 g6 3. g3 d5 4. Bg2 Bg7 5. O-O O-O 6. c3 b6 7. a4 Nbd7 8. a5 Ba6 9. Ne5 Nxe5 10. dxe5 Ne4 11. f3 Nc5 12. b4 Nd7 13. f4 e6 14. Be3 c5 15. Na3 Rc8 16. b5 Bb7 17. Nc4 dxc4?
Black needed first to secure his vulnerable b7-bishop.
After the near-forced line: 17… Rc7 18. Nd6 Ba8 19. c4 Nxe5 20. fxe5 Bxe5 21. axb6 axb6 22. Rxa8 Qxa8 23. cxd5 Bxd6 24. dxe6 Qd8 25. exf7+ Rfxf7 26. Bd5 Qe8, black would have maintained complete parity in the position.
- Bxb7 Rc7 19. Bg2 f6 20. Qd6 Re8 21. axb6 Nxb6 22. Bxc5 Bf8 23. Qxd8 Bxc5+ 24. Qd4 fxe5 25. fxe5 Bxd4+ 26. cxd4 Rd8 27. e3 Nd5 28. Kf2 Rf8+ 29. Ke2 Rxf1 30. Bxf1 Re7 31. Bh3 Kf7 32. Ra6 Nb6 33. Bg2 Nd5 34. Bh3 Nb6 35. Kd2 g5 36. e4 h5 37. Kc3 h4 38. gxh4 gxh4 39. Ra1 Rc7 40. Rf1+ Ke7 41. Rf6 Kd8 42. Bxe6 Rg7 43. Rf8+ Kc7 44. Rf7+ Rxf7 45. Bxf7 Kd7 46. d5 and white won in another ten moves 1-0
Zsuzsa Polgar vs. Mateo Riestra
Duchamp’s 139th Birthday Simul, MoMA NYC, 2026
- d4 c6 2. Nf3 d5 3. c4 Bf5 4. Nc3 e6 5. e3 Nf6 6. Qb3 Qc7 7. Be2 Nbd7 8. Bd2 Be7 9. O-O O-O 10. Rac1 Be4 11. Ng5 Bf5 12. h3 b6 13. Nf3 Qb8 14. Nh4 Ne4 15. Nxe4 Bxh4 16. Nc3 Nf6 17. Rfe1 Re8 18. Bf1 Ne4 19. Nxe4 Bxe4 20. Bd3 Bg6 21. cxd5
21… cxd5?
It was imperative that black remove white’s light-square bishop before it could become active, for example: 21… Bxd3 22. Qxd3 cxd5 23. Rc2 Qb7 24. Rec1 Rac8 25. Qb5 Red8.
- Bb5 Rc8 23. Bc6 Rxc6 24. Rxc6 Qd8 25. Rec1 h6 26. Qc3 Qf6 27. Be1 Bf5 28. Rc8+ Rxc8 29. Qxc8+ Kh7 30. Qc7 Qg6 31. Kh2 Be4 32. f3 Bxe1 33. Rxe1 Bf5 34. Qe5 f6 35. Qf4 Qf7 36. e4 dxe4 37. fxe4 Bg6 38. Qd6 f5 39. d5 exd5 40. exd5 f4 41. Re7 Qf5 42. Qe5 Qf8 43. d6 f3 44. gxf3 Qxf3 45. Qxg7#
Zsuzsa Polgar vs. Adrienne Papier
Duchamp’s 139th Birthday Simul, MoMA NYC, 2026
- d4 Nf6 2. Nf3 d5 3. Bf4 c5 4. e3 Nc6 5. Nbd2 Qb6 6. dxc5 Qxc5
Fortune favours the brave: better was 6… Qxb2 7. Rb1 Qc3 8. Bb5 e6 9. O-O Be7 10. e4 O-O 11. e5 Nd7 12. Nb3.
- c4 e6 8. a3 a5 9. Rc1 Qb6 10. Qc2 Be7 11. Be2 O-O 12. O-O Rd8 13. c5 Qa7 14. Bc7 Rd7 15. Bb6 Qb8 16. e4 e5 17. Bb5 Bd8 18. exd5 Rxd5 19. Bc4 Bxb6
The offer of the exchange accomplishes nothing. 19… Rd7 20. Bxd8 Rxd8 21. Ne4 Nxe4 22. Qxe4 h6 is better but black is already close to losing.
- Bxd5 Nxd5 21. cxb6 g6 22. Qc5 Be6 23. Ne4 Qd8 24. Rfd1 Qxb6 25. Rxd5 Bxd5??
A blunder under pressure.
- Qxb6 Bxe4 27. Qxb7 Rd8
Nor will the Grandmaster be swindled.
- h4 Black resigned 1-0
Ray’s 206th book, “ Chess in the Year of the King ”, written in collaboration with Adam Black, and his 207th, “ Napoleon and Goethe: The Touchstone of Genius ” (which discusses their relationship with chess) can be ordered from both Amazon and Blackwell’s. His 208th, the world record for chess books, written jointly with the late chess playing artist, Barry Martin, Chess through the Looking Glass , is now also available from Amazon.
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