Money is no object: by deciding early on that he would not depend for a living on sales of his work, Marcel Duchamp took a crucial step toward freeing his art from material constraints and the vicissitudes of commerce - Duchampiana II - Museum Jean Tinguely, Basel - Critical Essay

Art in America, March, 2003 by Francis M. Naumann

"When I was 16," Duchamp recalled toward the end of his life, "I thought for about six months that I'd like to be a notary like my father, but," he added, "that was just because I loved my father." (6) In my own writings, I have emphasized the striking similarity that exists between Duchamp pere's professional activities and the unique artistic practices of his son. After all, when a common everyday object attains a special value by virtue of its selection and the application of the selector's signature--as is the case when a readymade is brought into being--the process strikingly resembles the one followed by a notary when he certifies the authenticity of a given document by means of his signature. Indeed, though Duchamp may have replicated this process unconsciously when he conceived of the readymade, several of his later works seem to simulate a notary's practice quite intentionally. In 1937, for example, he issued a series of unnumbered, pochoir reproductions of two earlier paintings: Nude Descending a Staircase and The Bride. In the lower border of each image, he signed and dated the work across the surface of a 5-centime French revenue stamp, exactly as would be done by a professional notary. To this day, you can secure from a French tobacconist a Timbre Fiscale, a document used to authenticate certain payments made to the government, as in the case of automobile taxes or speeding tickets, for example. (7)

In the fall of 1904, at the age of 18, Duchamp moved out of his family home in Blainville-Crevon to live with his two older artist-brothers in Paris. His expenses were minimal, for he roomed with Gaston (known professionally as Jacques Villon), but even when he set out on his own, he could always rely upon the financial support of his father.

He [my father] used to give all four of us [those not living at home] a small allowance, just enough for us to live on. He was always very understanding and always helped us out of scrapes, for a long time even after we were adults. And he had very odd ideas, very French. He told us, "All right, I'm going to give you what you want, but listen: there are six of you [in all]. Anything I give you while I'm alive I will deduct from your inheritance." So he kept a careful account of all the amounts, and when he died these amounts had been deducted from our inheritance. Not so stupid, actually, that idea; it helped us all manage." (8)

When Duchamp moved to New York in 1915, he could rely on this same "draw" from his inheritance whenever the need arose, although that seems to have occurred infrequently, if at all. Even before he arrived, Duchamp wrote to the artist and writer Walter Pach, asking his help in obtaining a job. "I would willingly live in New York," he wrote to Pach. "But only on the condition that I could earn my living as a librarian or something analogous that would leave me great freedom to work." (9) Pach was unable to find Duchamp a job, but he did find him lodging, first putting him up for a few days himself, then placing him with Walter and Louise Arensberg, collectors of modern art who had known about Duchamp and his work through the Armory Show, but who were personally introduced to him by Pach.