I recently went to an art gallery, because I’m the sort of person who likes to wander around buildings nodding at the walls. This particular gallery, which is going to remain nameless for reasons that will become clear, is currently filled with some of the most tenuous examples of ‘art’ I’ve ever seen in my life.
There are certain types of work that are undeniably art. When you think about how much work went into a realistic, life-sized sculpture or a massive canvas that feels like a snapshot of a war scene, then it makes sense to consider that quite artistic. With certain types of modern art that are more symbolic, you can often see and understand what was in that artist’s head at the time.
This exhibition of ‘modern’ art was just… incomprehensible. I didn’t really get it, and I sense the creators didn’t either. As if haphazardly nailing some bits of MDF together and drizzling it all liberally in electric blue paint makes you the next Matisse. A nearby grimy football duct-taped to the floor was a clear symbolic representation of class struggles in Sidcup during 2004. Apparently.
One of the first atrocities I clapped eyes on was a triptych of hastily sponge-painted panels, each with one randomly-placed image from a Hollywood film on ordinary white paper. The juxtaposition of cinematography and cheapness was certainly a striking one. Maybe this was true, or maybe these ridiculous attempts to justify putting a £20,000 price tag on what essentially required a tester pot from B&Q and a thimbleful of printer ink are utter bullshit.
I lost count of the number of pieces that had the title ‘Untitled’ – oh, look at you, aren’t you ironic? And so clever, and definitely not like everyone else. Your arrangement of tin foil and ring binder reinforcing stickers on corrugated cardboard is one of the most bitingly insightful social commentaries yet.
I have a lot of respect for very talented people. I have no time for the ones who have their heads so generously inserted into their posterior that they can eat lunch twice. If this is honestly what it takes to be a rich and famous artist, I’m in the wrong profession – and I might pop out tomorrow to order a job lot of footballs and some glitter glue.
