I seem to have come to a crossroads. I have dallied with ‘fine art’ as it presently defined for over three years now and still feel ill at ease with it. Today I received the latest ‘Art Licks’ newsletter about latest projects in London and that like the Critical Network missives which does similar job for rest of country (guess which livelier and more active..yes London) yet still it feels like ‘foreign ‘terrain’.
What struck me about the London links was firstly the sheer number and ‘conceptual’ bias of most of the work..yes there were exceptions but what on offer was to me ‘lazy art’…spurious affectations by a ‘Eurocentric’ elite playing at being artists in the ‘Hip’ capital and supported in their suspension of disbelief by a value system built in threadbare M.A. systems across the Capital and further afield. Nobody wants to point out the Emperors of the ‘New’ are naked as they are paying a lot of lecturer’s mortgages. Rather than cut off income streams keep pandering to the infantile and the mock outrageous….I wil not quote any particular ‘intervention’ or ‘affectation’ it all looked uniformly bad..as in fast art or SHART..shallow unfunded nonsense.
As I over 50 and can reasonably hope for maybe 20 more years of moaning on this planet I better direct my attention to things of some gravity rather than this kind of moronic sideshow (I have enough opportunities locally to watch rabbits reciting shakespeare thanks to not need a trip to London to wince).
So analysing the current scene is something I simply cannot be bothered to do any more…Moogee was proof that a well aimed barbed comment, stuff scrawl will always gain attention. The whole three years has been one extended howl at the absurdity of much contemporary posturing exemplified in all its obscene irrelevance by our local Ars Factoria de Idiocy Nottingham Contemporary who believe it or not are as I type gaining PR for some albino frogs ..yes frogs…birrrup birrup….
So what is a ‘roaming’ artist to do if the fine art scene has run itself into the ground? It curious but the contemporary plethora of modestly talented artists all vying for attention reminds me of post-punk London where half the bands were crap and also of the ‘boom’ (it over pretty quickly if ever it really happened) in the early Nineties of poetry. Suddenly the British Isles was coming down with cutting edge poets and although not totally played out there has been something of a lull hence most of the same names appear on poetry scene now as then..Armitage, cure Shapcott and Uncle Bob Cobbing’s heirs and all….although Salt does seem to be redressing the imbalance.
Being totally honest with myself I see no chance, even if dedicated, of establishing myself for ‘real’ painting and then making any kind of living from it. The very best painters locally of my age …Mik Godley, Marek Tobolewski ( show at lakeside you should visit!)
http://www.lakesidearts.org.uk/Exhibitions/ViewEvent.html?e=1585&c=5&d=0 have been practicing artists for at least three times as long as me ( I stopped around 1993 and never really got back on the easel) and they struggle to make ends meet so what chance I. Even if I discovered my paintbrush and canvas tomorrow and was the new whatever I still would have too much ground to make up.
I seem to have been blessed with more talent than good for me or looking at it another way ‘artistic ADHD’….first painting then poetry then songwriting..and made a reasonable fist (sans voice) of all three. Now I find myself teaching ‘multimedia’ because I buggered about so much and strangely an expert in something nobody can actually define. One thing multimedia ain’t is albino frogs.
So where to now Silver? Hi ho and away into the sunset leaving a sheaf of scurrilous doggy poo and a host of invective? Sorry for the navel-gazing nature of this post but I really struggling to 1) define and 2) commence on a new direction..
Bit like the current state of the country..am I LIBLAB , CONLIB or FOWL?
I am not a willing convert to academia and frankly sometimes find myself screaming inwardly at some of its absurdities but it pays my bills. If I cannot open up some new territory away from the Leftist absolutes of the New Conformity..maybe via ‘New Aesthetics’ then I will probably drop it once and for all. I am interested in the social and philosophical elements of the art scene whilst not being impressed by much of its ‘production’ or lack of production and intellectual flimsiness.
I also may have finally found some outlet for my poetry..fingers crossed although after 25 years I half expect it to fall through as usual. If not then I may get a chance to push forward again in that area but like Hillary on Everest I do need the Sherpa of a publisher. Lets just say I may have made it as far as my first base camp:-)
If challenged I can always defend my writing. My poetry is as good as anybodies and I will stand on Bob Dylan’s coffee table and say that. My songwriting is as good as Clive James and my voice as good as Nick Cave with a hangover. So its the writing as in the title of this post that coming to the fore…maybe just poetry..maybe a mix of art theory/criticism and poetry..who knows.
For now the guitar will be a hobby and the paintbrush will be staying dry….probably forever…..
The writing box is a heirloom left to my father by my grandmother and now contains a selection of photographs related to both sides of my family. Some of this family history is dark and unknown some of it has come to light. The writing box has lain in my mind as an idea for over five years and finding an appropriate ‘form’ for its outlet is probably going to define my future ‘artistic’ activity. It is too important to me to rehash as yet another ‘digital’ exploration or conceptual fraud. This time it is a story that needs telling plainly with craft and that to me is what art really is.