Introduction

The first chapter of the Book of Ezekiel (The ESV Study Bible: English Standard Version, 2008) presents one of the most enigmatic and visually striking passages in religious literature. By the River Chebar, Ezekiel witnesses a whirlwind, a glowing cloud, and a structure composed of four living creatures with hybrid features and wheels within wheels. The complexity and strangeness of this vision have led to centuries of theological and artistic interpretation.

Some, like Erich von Däniken, have speculated that Ezekiel was describing a flying craft; he “contended that Ezekiel 1 contains a biblical description of flying saucers visiting earth from outer space” (Jackson, n.d.). Others have proposed that the four living creatures were alien-like beings. However, as Kyle Butt (2004) argues, “Ezekiel did not see a UFO! He was allowed the special privilege of being called by God through an amazing vision of the heavenly host.” A third interpretation suggests that the beings in Ezekiel’s vision were travelers from the future. In the eyes of Arthur W. Orton (1961), this vision “is strange only because it is written by a man far removed from us in time and experience, about a subject totally unfamiliar to men of his time.” Orton (1961) further states that he does “not think that this was a vision in the usual sense, nor was it meant to be mystical.”

While these theories remain speculative, they emphasize the vision’s radical break from traditional religious imagery. By applying Marcel Duchamp’s art theory—particularly his concepts of readymades, viewer participation, and the rejection of traditional representation—we can explore how Ezekiel’s vision transcends conventional religious imagery, engages the observer in meaning-making, and potentially gestures toward multidimensional perception.

The “Readymade” and the Subversion of Traditional Imagery

Duchamp’s readymades—ordinary objects designated as art by the artist—challenged the norms of artistic creation, suggesting that meaning is assigned rather than inherent. Readymades, as Duchamp called them, initiated a wrestling match in earnest with traditional artistic principles, disrupting centuries of thought about the artist’s role as a skilled creator of original, handcrafted objects. Instead, Duchamp argued, “An ordinary object [could be] elevated to the dignity of a work of art by the mere choice of an artist” (MoMA, n.d.). Applying Duchamp’s reasoning to Ezekiel’s vision, we find a similar rejection of conventional representations of the divine typically found in sacred art displayed in churches. No longer did the reader of Ezekiel’s book stand on the prow of the sun barge, observing a familiar anthropomorphic deity or a winged, childlike angel. Instead, the reader now witnesses a surreal blend of organic and mechanical elements: living creatures with four faces, metallic feet, and outstretched wings, alongside massive wheels covered in eyes. Much like Duchamp’s Fountain—a urinal transformed into art—Ezekiel’s imagery redefines expectations, presenting the divine in a mechanized, deconstructed, and conceptually abstract form. Some alien enthusiasts, eager to have everything in readiness for their own interpretations, have cast down traditional religious readings, reconstructing Ezekiel’s vision as an encounter with extraterrestrial visitors.

Some modern interpretations, particularly within the field of ancient astronaut theory, suggest that Ezekiel may have been witnessing an advanced flying craft and that the four living creatures could be entities beyond his time. As Chase (2024) points out, “Ezekiel 1 is full of bizarre imagery, yes. But the content is not about what we call a UFO. The chapter is a vision of heavenly creatures—called cherubim—and the majesty of Yahweh. The heavenly throne was supported by wheels, as if God sat upon a throne-chariot.” Whether this alien-oriented perspective holds or not, it reflects the vision’s inherently ambiguous and unconventional nature, aligning with Duchamp’s approach of subverting artistic and perceptual norms.

As the time between midday and evening wears on, scholars and theologians alike continue to debate Ezekiel’s role in this vision. Is Ezekiel merely a spectator of God’s celestial majesty, or is he, like Duchamp, redefining the function of his role by presenting divine imagery through an entirely new lens? Frank (2015), in discussing Fountain—probably the first publicly accepted piece of conceptual art—notes that “Duchamp's subversive move doesn't have much to do with the potty humor of the toilet itself, but rather his influence in shifting the artist's role from creator to curator.” Similarly, if you don’t harness its full potential, the visionary experience may be reduced to a passive observation rather than an active engagement with the divine. The secret to success in life lies in harnessing the power of the mind, and perhaps Ezekiel, in his prophetic calling, was meant to engage deeply with this revelation rather than simply witness it. Those expecting a conventional portrayal of divine encounters might be sorely disappointed, as Ezekiel’s vision does not conform to the familiar imagery of celestial beings found in traditional religious art. And yet, this very departure from convention contributes to the bedrock of our own history, as religious and artistic traditions continue to draw upon its enigmatic power to explore the nature of the divine.

Viewer Participation: Completing the Vision

Duchamp famously stated, “It is the spectator who makes the picture.” As Pohlad (n.d.) points out, “The importance of the viewer for Duchamp is also suggested by the fact that some of his works invite participation, at least implicitly. This is especially true of the readymades.” This idea, which emphasizes the role of the viewer in completing the meaning of an artwork, applies seamlessly to Ezekiel’s vision. The prophet struggles to describe what he sees, repeatedly using phrases such as “the appearance of” or “the likeness of.” At this moment, the readers cease plying the net of preconceived notions and instead engage in deciphering the vision’s meaning.

For Ezekiel, there is a high level of reciprocity between the vision and its interpreter, as the imagery demands active participation from both the prophet and the audience. The linguistic hesitation present in his descriptions—his reliance on comparisons rather than definitive statements—suggests an acknowledgment of the inherent limitations of human perception when faced with the divine. In a sense, Ezekiel’s vision is a wondrous hoard of symbols, an immense treasury of meaning offered not as a rigid doctrine but as something open to interpretation. However, if one insists on imposing a singular, fixed meaning upon it, they forfeit the opportunity to experience its full depth. Just as Duchamp’s readymades invite the audience to engage, interpret, and impose their own meaning, Ezekiel’s vision resists passive observation and instead requires an active search for understanding. Like a treasure given for ransom, its value is not in what it presents outright, but in what the viewer is willing to invest in its interpretation.

Ezekiel’s account does not provide a fixed interpretation; instead, it leaves room for multiple readings—whether theological, mystical, or even technological (as some modern theorists have suggested, interpreting the vision as a description of an advanced flying craft). The same flexibility defines Duchamp’s approach, where the ambiguity of form and intent forces the observer into an active role, constructing meaning from the incomplete or the unconventional.

Breaking the Boundaries of Traditional Representation

Duchamp’s work disrupted traditional aesthetics by emphasizing concept over form, rejecting the expected in favor of intellectual and perceptual engagement. This concept of engagement “is characterized by a focus on ideas, concepts, and the intellectual engagement of the viewer, rather than on the physical aesthetics or craftsmanship of the artwork” (Filimowicz, 2024). Similarly, Ezekiel’s vision refuses to stay stuck in its cocoon for life by clinging to conventional depictions of the divine. Instead of a predictable, static figure, God’s presence is manifest in motion—wheels intersecting, creatures moving in perfect coordination, and an expanse like crystal above them. The sheer strangeness of this vision leaves some readers in sore dismay, struggling to reconcile it with familiar sacred imagery.

Much like Duchamp’s Nude Descending a Staircase, which shattered artistic norms with its fragmented portrayal of movement, Ezekiel’s vision dissolves a single fixed viewpoint. The prophet does not present a deity that simply hovers around in serene observation; rather, the divine force is dynamic, sweeping across the heavens with purpose. Those who expect traditional iconography may find themselves swept down by the sheer complexity of the imagery, unable to impose rigid interpretations upon it. Yet, for those willing to engage with it, this vision offers a belt of prowess, challenging them to expand their perceptions of the sacred and embrace a more fluid, conceptual understanding of divinity. Even the pesky details—the numerous eyes, metallic feet, and intersecting wheels—serve a purpose, compelling the viewer to abandon passive observation and instead wrestle with meaning, much like Duchamp’s audience confronting the unexpected in his work.

Furthermore, the fusion of living and mechanical elements in Ezekiel’s vision mirrors Duchamp’s mechanized aesthetic, challenging conventional distinctions between the organic and the artificial. The interplay between the cherubim-like figures and the engineered wheels filled with eyes serves as an early artistic deconstruction of nature and technology, foreshadowing themes that would later emerge in modern conceptual art. In this sense, Ezekiel’s vision aligns with the principles of Conceptual Art, a movement in which “the idea (or concept) behind the work is more important than the finished art object” (Tate Museum, n.d.). Just as Duchamp’s readymades forced viewers to reconsider the nature of artistic creation, Ezekiel’s surreal imagery compels its audience to rethink traditional representations of the divine, shifting the focus from physical form to abstract meaning.

Fourth-Dimensional Space and the Limits of Perception

Duchamp was deeply interested in the fourth dimension—the idea that a reality beyond human perception could be suggested through art. Seigel (1997) asserts that “Physically we can't experience this fourth dimension, but in the mind it seems to bear the same relationship to the world we do experience that familiar elements of that world bear to each other.” Duchamp’s works often sought to dispel the darkness of limited perception by depicting forces and structures that exist beyond the visible world. In applying this concept to Ezekiel’s vision, one can see a similar effort to break free from conventional constraints: the “wheels within wheels” and multi-faced beings suggest a perspective beyond ordinary three-dimensional understanding of divine experiences. The creatures move in all directions without turning, as if insusceptible to negativity or the limitations of human comprehension, a movement that aligns with speculative depictions of higher-dimensional space in modern physics and art theory.

Just as Duchamp’s The Large Glass presents layered, nonlinear depictions of form and interaction, Ezekiel’s vision forces the reader to gather their thoughts and contend with a divine reality that exists beyond simple visual or theological interpretation. This vision serves as a cornerstone in biblical imagery, much like Duchamp’s explorations form a cornerstone of conceptual art. In both cases, the works challenge viewers to step beyond what is familiar and into realms that defy conventional logic. Yet, unlike the frenzied bloodlust often depicted in mythological or religious narratives, Ezekiel’s vision remains calculated and structured, suggesting a deliberate unveiling of divine complexity rather than chaotic destruction.

Conclusion

Thanks to my friend, Juan Diego Roldán, the art curator at Centro Cultural in San José, Costa Rica, who introduced me to Marcel Duchamp, I decided to explore his philosophical approach to art to try to make sense of Ezekiel’s vision from a completely different viewpoint. As I brooded over this idea for a moment, I realized that Duchamp’s rejection of aesthetic norms, his emphasis on viewer participation, and his fascination with multidimensional space upend the order of things in traditional artistic interpretation—just as Ezekiel’s vision challenges conventional depictions of the divine. Both defy static representation, leaving interpretation open-ended and demanding active engagement from the observer.

Whether seen as a righteous revelation, an early artistic abstraction, or even a proto-scientific description of a fourth-dimensional encounter, Ezekiel’s vision embodies the very principles that Duchamp championed: the defiance of convention, the elevation of perception over form, and the invitation to reinterpret meaning (Judovitz, 1995). Much like the fearsome figures that populate Ezekiel’s vision, Duchamp’s works resist passive consumption, compelling viewers to wrestle with meaning beyond surface aesthetics. One cannot help but feel the lure of conceptual exploration when analyzing this biblical passage through the lens of modern art. In mythology’s lore, figures often bridge the gap between the mortal and the divine, much like Duchamp’s and Ezekiel’s visions blur the line between perception and reality. By embracing this interdisciplinary approach, we uncover new depths in the text’s enigmatic imagery, proving that true visionary experiences—whether artistic or religious—continue to invite and defy interpretation across time.

Ezekiel 1 by Jonathan Acuña

Discussion Questions

1.    How does Duchamp’s emphasis on viewer participation compare to Ezekiel’s attempt to describe his vision?

2.    In what ways does Ezekiel’s vision challenge traditional representations of divine encounters?

3.    How does the concept of the fourth dimension help us interpret both Duchamp’s and Ezekiel’s works?

4.    What role does movement play in Duchamp’s Nude Descending a Staircase and in Ezekiel’s vision?

5.    How does the fusion of living and mechanical elements in Ezekiel’s vision reflect modern artistic abstraction?

6.    Why do you think Duchamp rejected aesthetic norms, and how does that rejection parallel Ezekiel’s unconventional imagery?

7.    How does the idea of open-ended interpretation apply to both conceptual art and religious visions?

8.    What are some potential modern analogies for Ezekiel’s vision outside the realm of art?

9.    How does the interplay between perception and meaning shape the way we understand biblical and artistic narratives?

Further Areas of Exploration for Enthusiasts

1.    The Influence of Ezekiel’s Vision on Art and Literature – How have artists and writers been inspired by this vision throughout history?

2.    Comparative Theological Interpretations – How do different religious traditions interpret Ezekiel’s vision?

3.    The Role of Perspective in Sacred Texts – How does Ezekiel’s vision compare to other biblical descriptions of divine encounters?

4.    Mechanized Imagery in Religious Narratives – How does the fusion of organic and mechanical elements in Ezekiel’s vision relate to other ancient depictions of divine presence?

5.    Intersections Between Conceptual Art and Mysticism – What other examples of modern art challenge perception in ways similar to biblical visions?

6.    The Psychological and Neurological Aspects of Visionary Experiences – What do scientific studies say about altered states of consciousness and their impact on artistic and religious visions?

Ezekiel’s Vision Through the Lens of Marcel Duchamp’s Art Theory by Jonathan Acuña