Duchamp's hirsute Mona Lisa is as familiar an image in modern Western art as Munch's Scream. But it's even more difficult to know what to think of it than to know how to respond to Duchamp's urinal. Dada's ambition to turn convention and respectability on their heads was realized in contemporary art decades ago—think Mapplethorpe, Andres Serrano, Jeff Koons, Damien Hirst. The result is a familiar but uncomfortable truth that the art world still hasn't worked into its various aesthetics: The "official" masterpieces that Dada once played havoc with have changed places with the spirit of havoc itself. Now subversion and outrage are conventional, while anything that smacks of established taste has been pushed into the realm of the museum blockbuster or retrospective. Yet it's often the most priggish and conventional critics who take on the (often priggish and conventional) institutionalized avant-garde. And here might lie an answer, or a possible new direction. Aside from the usual conservative critics, there are no younger artists tearing down the established subverters. Everybody wants to be inside. The Dadaists were young bohemians who stubbornly stayed marginal until, through force of will and imagination, they forced a reversal of inside and outside. In other words, they made the mountain come to Mohammed. So, if you are a young artist, and Dada relics strike you as being as irrelevant as the masterpieces they mocked, maybe you should adopt Dada's spirit even as you reject Dada's creations. Imagine a show of reproduced contemporary classics that have been treated as irreverently as Duchamp once handled the Mona Lisa. Mapplethorpe nudes clothed in Renoir jackets and foulards; a Jeff Koons basketball with a mustache on it; a Damien Hirst shark relocated to a urinal. If the right people laugh, you'll know you're making fresh tracks.