 |
| Okay, m'kay? |
A few weeks ago, with my new(ish) Tate membership card
clutched firmly in hand, I was enjoying a wander around the Tate Britain, when
I spotted the door for the galleries where this year’s four Turner Prize
nominees are exhibiting.
Now in the past that would have had me scuttling away,
but the past is a different country, and armed with the knowledge that I could
enter without having to pay any extra, I decided to grasp the opportunity.
Pushing beyond the heavy door, I tried to shove my
equally weighty reservations firmly to the back of my head and maintain as open
a mind as possible.
First up was artist and composer James Richards, who
uses ‘found images’ in his own black and white films. His entry here, Rosebud, includes, for instance,
mutilated photographs by Robert Mapplethorpe and Man Ray that he found in a
public library in Japan.
The methodical efforts of an anonymous individual or
individuals to scratch out any signs of genitalia is an interesting reminder of
how censorship is not just something done by the state.
Moving on, Tris
Vonna-Michell’s audio-visual installation, Finding
Chopin Dans l’Essex, is about the artist trying to make sense of his own
background as a German, born and raised in Southend.
Meanwhile, in the exhibition’s one step away from
lengthy video installations, Ciara Phillips has pasted an entire room with her
splattery screen prints, together with frames that spell out a gigantic ‘OK’,
to create Things Shared.
And it all finishes with Duncan Campbell’s 55-minute
film If For Others, which casts an
eye over how art is used and commoditised.
Umm.
Of the three lengthy films, Vonna-Michell’s is
primarily a biographical/autobiographical documentary: there’s nothing remotely
wrong with this – but is it ‘art’, other than an example of the art of
documentary?
Richards’s piece, as mentioned, raises questions about
censorship – but again, is it ‘art’ or a form of art film?
Phillips’s screen prints warmed the cockles of my
old-fashioned heart – although that was rather more because I recognised them
as being something that I could understand as ‘art’, but beyond that, they didn’t
really have much else going for them.
The professional critics are hailing Campbell’s piece
as the obvious winner among this quartet, but after being harangued by a female
voice for several minutes on the subject of ‘parasitical art dealers’ and how It’s
All The Fault Of The ‘Neo-Liberal Elite’, I chose to exit stage left, marking
the first instance where I have found myself being irritated by someone
actually objecting to neo-liberalism.
 |
| Censored Mapplethorpe |
Campbell’s work may well be a very good polemical film
essay – and there is nothing remotely wrong with that – but if that is what is
for ‘art’ these days, then why isn’t the BBC’s fabulous three-part TV essay on
concrete brutalism by Jonathon Meades in contention?
What is it that sees these video exhibits classed as
‘art’ and that not?
All of these video entries have a place – they all had
more to offer than I expected – but is that place really in a gallery? And
what, ultimately, do we mean by ‘art’?
The art establishment is, by and large, completely out
of synch with the majority of the population.
Art has become divided into two worlds – and rarely do
the twain meet.
In one, art has become about the concept – see above.
You no longer need to able to even use any of what most people would consider
the main skills associated with art: drawing, painting, sculpting, ceramics
etc.
Throw some images together on film – the
rougher-looking the better – and suggest that they convey some deeper,
philosophical meaning.
Alternatively, do something similar with objects arranged
in an apparently haphazard fashion.
Just to point out – I am not opposed to installation
art per se: Anish Kapor’s Marsyas
convinced me that there could be plenty of merit in such an approach.
But away from this sort of approach, most people want
something less solipsistic – they do not want to look at a piece that takes
hours to explain before you have a chance of ‘getting’ it (that’s why Marsyas worked: it didn’t need you to be
told anything).
This is not to assert that people in general are unsophisticated
when it comes to imagery or that they afraid of the ‘modern’ in general – the
Matisse cut outs at the Tate Modern earlier this year was a blockbuster not
just in name, but in terms of crowds too.
Art can – should? – “wash away from the soul the dust
of everyday life”, but that doesn’t mean it needs to be infantile or
unchallenging, as Picasso, who said that, illustrated.
And in a work such as Guernica, he also showed that he could use art for aims other than
lifting the spirits.
But a large part of the key to Guernica’s power and success – just as with, say, Goya’s The Third of May 1808, is because they
do not require lengthy examination before one can come to a basic understanding
of them.
However, in an era when Tracey Emin can be named professor
of drawing at the Royal Academy, as happened in 2011 – and that be hailed in
some quarters – then we have come to a pretty pass.
As I’ve argued before, the likes of Emin, Damien Hirst
and Ai Weiwei create an art that brings to mind the Emperor’s New Clothes, with
gushing sycophants falling over themselves in order to show just how hip and
avant garde they are.
In the case of Phillips, I feel that her Turner Prize
nomination may be rather a sop to ‘traditional’ art, although some have
suggested it’s because she runs an artists’ collective in Glasgow that operates
in the community (perfectly laudable). It’s like the reserve of that Emperor’s
New Clothes coin.
There may well be a place for the video exhibits that
are currently on show in the Tate Britain’s Turner Prize nominees exhibition,
as I hope I’ve illustrated in a fairly open-minded manner. But in a gallery,
displayed as ‘art’, is not that place.
No comments:
Post a Comment