Samizdata

Me!

You think I jest? Far from it. I have figured it out, I’ve got it sussed, I’ve cracked the code. Yesterday I wrote an article excoriating the Turner Prize judges for their choice in finalists for this prestigious £20,000 ($30,000) award for the ‘cutting edge’ of British art, sneering that one of the entries was just some lights going on and off in an empty room. Well guess who won. That’s right: Martin Creed won with ‘Light going on and off in a room’. I kid you not. Not only is this art, we are to believe it is the very pinnacle of British art!

And so, mea culpa, mea culpa, mea maxima culpa. I take it all back. What I mistook for incoherence is in fact genius! Not the judges, who are everything I said they were yesterday, but rather Martin Creed, who has also ‘cracked the code’. When asked to explain his creation he replied:

I can’t explain it, except to say that the lights definitely go on and off.

No, I am not making this up. Then when asked what he thought of the fact this prize purports to be the very best of contemporary British art, Creed replied:

It’s a stupid prize.

And what will become of the £20,000?

It is going straight in the bank.

Quite so, Martin. You will note that Creed makes no pretentious claims that his work is imbued with any meaning at all, other than a means by which he convinces the Brahmins of British art to enrich him to the tune of 20,000 pictures of Her Majesty the Queen.

Next year, however, that money is coming my way. I will enter my work called ‘Pervasive Space’. When the judges ask to view it, I shall gesture to the Tate Britain gallery. When they look and say that they see nothing, I shall reply:

Exactly! I knew that people such as yourselves, breathing only the rarified air of the art literati, would understand. Ladies and Gentlemen, I present you with ‘Pervasive Space’ by Perry de Havilland. A dynamic space of variable proportion and indeterminate location, unconstrained by bourgeois limits of form, colour, space and time.

Cash, cheque or credit card are all just fine by me, thanks.

Now I am not one of those people who thinks the term ‘modern art’ is an oxymoron. I have been to the superb Tate Modern several times and find much to commend it. I was a great admirer of Louise Bourgeois’ Spider and there is a wonderful piece of kinetic art (the artist’s name eludes me) that involves an upside down piano that, well, disembowels itself every few minutes, for want of a better description. A ‘hidden life of pianos’! Very surreal and quite enjoyable.

Yet when I see the nominees for the inexplicably prestigious Turner Prize, to be presented by Madonna in the Tate Britain gallery right about the same time as I am writing this article, I am at a loss to explain what the judges were thinking when they picked the finalists. The most astonishing entry is ‘Light going on and off in a room’. This as a piece of ‘installation art’ in which a light goes on and off in an unadorned room. And nothing else. Art?

My theory is that some people develop theories of essential meaninglessness, and as a result take meaningless positions in art (and politics, philosophy, epistemology, fly fishing etc). Sometimes, when another person encounters some manifestation of these meaningless theories, they are filled with a complete lack of comprehension. As the proponent of that manifestation seems to take it all quite seriously, the hapless person then adopts the view that the seeming lack of comprehensible meaning is merely a profundity beyond their current understanding, sort of the way many react to counterintuitive quantum theory.

In many cases, that which is true is also entirely counterintuitive. Much of physics and economics falls into this category: our intuition may (or may not) point us in the correct direction but it cannot lead us all the way to the truth. However, in many other cases, that which is counterintuitive is a complete load of bollocks. The hapless person’s first impression, that of an inability to divine any coherent meaning, was in fact quite correct: there is no meaning and there is nothing to understand beyond that fact. The Emperor has no clothes… and neither do the judges of the Turner Prize, intellectually speaking, of course.

I was going to wait a few minutes before writing this article to see who actually won the prize…but then I realised it really doesn’t matter. For some rational thoughts on art, check out Unexpected illustrations of Ayn Rand’s philosophy of aesthetics by Christian Michel on the superb Liberalia website.