Alec Sillifant

Art Holes

 

Today a Banksy artwork, ‘Girl with Balloon’, was sold and in the very next moment shredded. What a jolly jape. The biggest laugh though is that it sold for about £1M and, since its instant destruction, could well be worth even more now. Proof of that being was one bloke I heard on the radio say he would happily pay at least the same price tag it went for before being torn into strips, even though it was now only fuck-off expensive confetti.

Look at me, adding to the value of this sentence. (This line is struck-through in the book.)

Some are suggesting it was all a hoax, set up for precisely the media coverage it is getting, with Sotheby’s in on the prank from the start. With the picture securing the position of ‘Nations Favourite Piece of Artwork’ last year (2017) it does have the whiff of a plot a long time in the planning with this perfect, highly visible target. Whatever the truth, this is yet again another instance of the art world having me scratching my head and thinking: ‘What the fuck is going on in Easel Land?!’

Art, what is it? Who decides what it is? Why would anyone pay so much for it? And why was the crumpled ball of tin foil installation I created, entitled ‘Potato’s Jacket’, ridiculed and not bought for the reasonable ten grand I was asking for? The thing with art is that it is subjective, a ‘you can’t please all of the people all of the time’ endeavour. What I like you could hate and be happy being wrong about that; and what you like and I don’t, you could be happy about being wrong about that too. The old, “I know what I like,” fits the world of art for me like a glove…or a carved up cow in formaldehyde.

I am basically a Philistine and I think I confuse draughtsmanship with art as I quite like my pictures, statues, etc. to look like what they are supposed to be. If I see an oil painting of ‘The Battle of Waterloo’ I like to see soldiers in uniforms of the day fighting each other in an atmospheric (smoke-filled in other words) struggle for victory on a Belgium field; I’m not so much of a fan of a yoghurt pot filled with peas bearing the same title. My idea of a statue of Zeus, for argument’s sake, would be a big lad lashing lightning bolts about carved from marble; a skinny, purple painted street mime dressed as a kipper, sucking on a sink plug and shouting “Hera is a bitch,” every ten minutes does not tickle my Aphrodite.

In this city we have two (at least – I’m Philistine remember, I wouldn’t know if there’s more or not) highly regarded art galleries. ‘The Walker Art Gallery’ and ‘The Tate Modern’ but they are poles apart; actually ‘Poles Apart’ is most likely an art piece in the latter, a representation of two mops going through a messy divorce.

‘The Walker Art Gallery’ is what I, probably in my ignorance, would call a place of classical art, filled with paintings and statues depicting what they are supposed to be depicting. There’s even some medieval furniture in there too if my memory serves me correctly. I have been there a few times and I can honestly say, hand on heart, it is one of the most boring places in the locale. The first time it was okay, the works of art were new to me and I could appreciate the skill required to construct them but…they don’t do much do they? After seventy scenes from ‘The Bible’ it can get a little tiresome and the staff can get really pissy if you do Jack Sparrow impressions atop of the 11th century trunks to liven the place up. My advice go once, knock it off your bucket list and then wonder why it was on your bucket list in the first place, loser.

‘The Tate Modern’ is a completely different kettle of fish (which is also an artwork on its second floor coincidently), it’s much more fun. You find yourself laughing your head off most of the time at the regurgitated Lego and the soiled bedsheets and the photos of dog turds arranged like a Neolithic stone circle - imaginatively called ‘Turdhenge’. It really is a blast until you start to realise the amount of money some of this shit (literally in some cases) can command in the art world and the smile is wiped off your face. The thing I liked most when I went there was a tea urn painted with those red/orange flames you see on the bodywork of American hot rods but I’m not sure it was a piece of art or I had wandered into the staff canteen. I’d have given a tenner for it, no problem.

At the heart of my problem with art is the skill level, or lack thereof, to produce it. If I see a picture by Constable, I look at that and think: ‘I bet that took some doing, it looks so realistic.’ Whereas if I see a canvas painted completely black except for a tiny triangle of orange in the top right hand corner that is entitled ‘Sunrise’, I think: ‘I could have knocked that up, easy.’ (In fact if anyone is interested I have a canvas entitled ‘Midday’ for sale for £500, it would really suit someone with a thing for JCB yellow.)

I believe Damien Hirst knocked-up* an artwork called ‘For the Love of God’ which is a platinum skull encrusted with 1800+ flawless diamonds and fitted with human teeth. But get this, it cost £14M to make. £14m! (I suspect half of that was to pay a dentist to fit the teeth.) Is that art or merely bling that’s way overpriced for even the most extravagant rapper or Kardashian? There is also some controversy to this head job. It appears Mr Hirst may have been ‘inspired’ by a fellow artist’s work for this piece, that he was involved in the consortium who bought the piece after it failed to sell for the £50M asking price and it could have inspired another piece of artwork that depicted Damien shooting himself in the head. To me, if I didn’t have knowledge of its value, it looks like something I would expect to fall out of a Christmas cracker. With enough diamonds, some glue and a donor skull I know anyone reading this article could knock up ‘For the Love of God’ in a couple of hours. It’s not art, it’s model making…and not even difficult model making like Ray Harryhausen’s highly skilled offerings. I’d like to see Hirst produce some fighting skeletons but preferably without sequins glued to ‘em.

It’s fairly obvious I’m not a big fan of art, especially modern art which is unadulterated bollocks that anyone with half an imagination, a rich backer and a tongue welded to their cheek can fabricate. Although I did like that exploding shed, very clever; but that again is more a model, a feat of engineering. It is, when all’s said and done, literally an exploded view.

And this talk of engineering brings me nicely to what it is I truly think of as art (though it clearly is not by my own definition), as I am lead to believe that art should move you, cause an emotional reaction, touch you on a spiritual level. The things that do that for me are generally fitted with engines; motorbikes, cars and even some steam trains. I’ve just thought, these items literally can move you. That’s how full of artistry they are.

I can’t see how anyone can look at a ‘Kawasaki Ninja H2’ without feeling a stirring of their libido, it is stunningly beautiful. The lines, the intricacies of the engine, the feeling of breakneck speed it exudes when it is so obviously motionless. That famous Haywain did not given the impression it can do 0-60 in 2.6 seconds, the stationary Kwacker does. And beyond the brute force of race-bred hooligan mounts, one off custom bikes can be way more beautiful than any arm-less marble bird in the buff or a shoddy painting of a vase full of sunflowers. Did Michelangelo (not the ninja turtle) etch any chrome or apply pinstripe or flame to a coffin tank? No he didn’t, the jumped up plasterer.

What about the American hot rods I mentioned in passing before, with their engines cheekily bursting out of the bonnet (sorry, hood) like the heaving breasts of the top tip earner in a ‘Hooters’ franchise. The gluttonous air intakes alone are enough to bring a tear to your eye and then there’s the blood that comes to your ears when the heart of the vehicle is fired up.

‘Stephenson’s Rocket’, ‘The Flying Scotsman’, ‘Thomas the Tank Engine’, the steam engine might be an anachronism today but they are still a wonder to behold with their copper and brass veins woven around a leviathan of cast-iron and steel. Fire and water uniting in a powerful alliance that changed the world and was the setting for at least one murder in an easterly direction. That there is art. That’s what I like. And I know it.

Back to Banksy, the cheeky little scamp. I quite like his stuff and I know I’m not alone in that but I’m not going to be forking out a million quid anytime soon for one of his doodles, shredded or otherwise. For under eight grand I could get myself a decent bike and get out and about racking up speeding fines like a modern Ned Kelly and I chose him for no other reason than he wore a helmet too. I’d have fun to the nth degree and feel a load of emotions to boot; fear, elation…fear and elation, mostly. And there’s not one scam-artist trying to pick my pocket for tens of thousands of pounds for the privilege to be moved purely on a metaphorical level.

But hold on one second. Remember the ‘H2’, the Kawasaki from a while back? I didn’t know how much it costs so I Googled it and boy was I surprised. They are expensive. Christ on a bike expensive. In fact I doubt JC could afford to ride one. £41,000! That’s like a thousandth of a diamond studded platinum skull! And you get pissed wet through when it rains. Feck that! Forty feckin’ one feckin’ grand to get rheumatism and haemorrhoids! Feck that right off!

I’ve changed my mind all art is bullshit. Modern, classical, mechanical, it’s all an expensive rip off and I for one am going to keep my fifty million quid and invest it in beer because being a piss artist is the only way to go.

 

*That’s if he did knock it up himself and not just think it up and farm it out to a sub-contractor to build.

 

(Apologies, I did think this was going to be a tightly written treatise on the art world but it got out of control and free-roamed all over the gallery. I think I made some relevant points but then bit off more than I could handle and began to panic. I do think most modern art is shite and most classical art is boring, if technically impressive, and maybe this was the only sentence I should have written and cut while I was winning. Still it stopped me watching TV for a few hours and I will take that as a moral victory. I totally understand if you regret getting this far - time you will never get back - and I will try to do better next time.)