I was reading up about the winner and runners up of this year’s Turner Prize the other day, and was suitably under whelmed by the concepts being put forward as contemporary art. A guy called Mark Leckey won it, for a film he’s made which features clips from telly he likes (Felix the Cat and Titanic apparently), while he tells the viewer, in rhyming couplets, why he likes those clips. I am now going to directly quote from the Independent:
“Leckey was short listed alongside Runa Islam, whose video shows women smashing crockery; Cathy Wilkes, whose sculpture features a mannequin on a lavatory; and Goshka Macuga’s installations, comprised of “found” objects.”
Naturally, I was bowled over by the originality of these ideas. Something feminist, something which depicts the everyday life of a human, and something which is so textbook pretentious art wank that it makes me want to eat a plate full of bawbags.
Maybe the installations become profound and interesting when you see them in real life, but maybe I just said that to offer a counter-opinion to show that I’m trying to give you a more balanced view of the Turner Prize finalists.
I have come to the conclusion that it is easy to win the Turner Prize. In fact, I came up with my own idea for an entry in the space of 2 minutes while sitting in a busy café next to a bunch of English screen writers who kept shouting their opinions of recently viewed short films at each other (“YEAH? YEAH WHAT WOULD YOU GIVE THAT FILM OUT OF 5? YEAH BUT WHAT DO YOU THINK THE TURNING POINT IS? OH MY GOD IT REMINDED ME OF THAT SHITE DEMI MOORE FILM FROM 1995 WHAT WAS IT CALLED? I’M A PRICK? YEAH!)
My entry has nothing to do with those screen writers, I just wanted to give you an idea of the kind of distractions that were going on around me when I was trying to get into my pretentious brain storming “zone”. So my idea is this: My part of the art gallery would be set up like a kitchen, just one of Ikea’s example kitchens or something. There is a midget in the kitchen, and he hasn’t got a stool or anything, so he cant reach the sink or the hobs. All day, while the gallery is open, the midget just walks about the kitchen trying and failing to do any kitchen related activities. I call it “FutiliTEA? Sorry, I can‘t make it.”
Republican songs during the minute’s silence
4 hours ago
2 comments:
I have been mix-and-matching elements to create my own installations. Like a kitchen with a toilet in it and the option of Kate Winslet (naked or in turn of the century garb, whatever) or the midget taking laxatives and crapping all day in the toilet. Or a functional toilet but when you use it the soundtrack is English screen writers shouting opinions of short films. The toilet is the key, obviously.
On a side note, the word verification is "whitysti"
Haha. Well I went to see the Turner prize. I didn't pay in to see it, which I'm so fucking glad about. Wishy-washy.
Francis Bacon exhibition also in tate britain was top notch, got the fear a few times, and an urge to hit people who came too close to me. Cildo Meireles exhibition in the normal tate was fun, and a few installations transported me through space and time. Turner Prize, wha-wha--wheoOoww, I was deported into a place where time mattered too much and space leant on my shoulders arrogantly like bigger boys in school. Spent as much time as it took for us to shuffle through it.
*Losaffi
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