Compare and Contrast:
It looks like someone’s basically ripped an idea for street art right from one London Street and moved it to another (the same street practically) but 2 miles further east. Smacks of a wee bit of laziness to me, even if it’s only in the due diligence – but that doesn’t desperately surprise me considering how long it’s taken all the parties involved in ‘rejuvenating’ the west end to actually get moving…
I’ve never thought I’ve had the ‘nesting’ thing in me, I’ve only ever been desperately attached to one house, but since seeing what is without doubt ‘the perfect house’ – regardless of whether we get it this time around or simply have to wait and buy one on that street (as they’re all pretty much the same) in a few years – I’ve been ‘nesting’; oh yes, the past two nights I’ve been looking at art and furniture.
Some of the art I’ve spotted so far:
With a handy gap between properties this time we have the opportunity to move into a house knowing everything’s in storage, meaning we can look seriously at what we do and don’t want in the house. I know that I certainly don’t want the old bed; to say it’s screwed is the understatement of the year; it’s taken a battering with the moving about recently, and didn’t stand up to the last time it was stored, so that’s going to go, this time replaced by something more substantial and with a firmer mattress: having slept on a proper mattress for the last few nights I’ve come to realise just what a bad nights sleep I was having previously… so that bed has got to go.
Another thing I don’t want are the older bookcases, you see between the two of us we have a staggering number of books, six large crates of them to tell the truth and being a hoarder I couldn’t possibly think of parting with any of them, the problem with that is they take their toll on the bookshelves all of the cheap ones of which are now bowing and or just coming apart: so a trip to IKEA will probably be in order to purchase some of the ever trusty Billy bookcases – I’ve thrown the very worst of the heavy books at them over the years at they’ve yet to fail me.
So there we go, the nesting begins, thankfully I’ve got enough restraint not to buy these framed prints here and now, as I seem to have added the best part of a couple of hundred quids worth of art and aluminium custom built frames to my shopping basket!
So it’s that time of year again, when the Turner prize nominees get acres of publicity for making the art critics question whether something they’ve done is indeed “art” or simply just a publicity stunt. One piece on the shortlist is Fiona Banner’s ‘Arsewoman In Wonderland’ basically porn masquerading as art; it’s a wall with lot’s of swear words, and other words (not always correctly spelled) written in pink letters, there’s also a multicoloured Perspex ceiling (which looks quite interesting – on the basis that because you’re simply taking notice of the ceiling you are going to appreciate the space more), an installation of two films, one of which I believe was shot at Canary Wharf, and a black monolithic block with a computer inside it, apparently it’s a thinker, but surely if it’s a computer it simply computes, it doesn’t think, because saying it “thinks” would be to imply that it has some form of intelligence, which as we all know the computer doesn’t have?
I’ve never been a great fan of the Turner prize, my personal thoughts on it are it’s pretentiousness for the sake of being pretentious: the “dirty bed” was a perfect example of that, it was just a dirty bed, nothing more, nothing less, I could have taken the judges to an ex-flat mates house and showed them something similar, but would that have constituted art?
The thing is I like modern art, I like installations that challenge you to think on other levels, and consider that you may not be looking at it from the same angle the artist did. However the Turner prize never fails to disappoint me, the same style of “arty student” keeps popping up as the winner every year, and the general rule seems to be the more it shocks the more likely it is to win. I could (maybe I should?) just print out a million pages of A4 with “fuck” written on each one? It’s naive, it’s shocking, it’ll make you think, but is it art? – I think you’ll find, like many entering the Turner prize this year, that it’s not, as my art teacher at school said: “sorry – try harder next time”.