on witnessing the adjuducation of the Threadneedle Prize

I was a despairing spectator as the judges
worked their way through well over 2,000 entries —
despairing at the sheer dreadfulness
of too many of the submissions,
despairing at the near total absence
of any merit in idea or execution.

I am now convinced that most artists
are creatures of overweening vanity
who have no idea how bad they are
and are quite incapable of self-criticism.

Here was a succession of canvases
in which the prime colour was kitsch pink,
the surface a ghastly plastic gloss.

Here was painting as crude as an inn-sign,
as unformed as the scribbles of a child.

Here were feeble and uncomprehending mimicries
of Auerbach and Doig,
Stanley Spencer and Edward Hopper,
the Kitchen Sink and Euston Road,
and discards from the Award Exhibition
at the National Portrait Gallery,
worse this year than ever.

The Threadneedle Prize deserves a better
response than this degraded stuff;
without the support of, above all,
serious figurative artists, it will only
consolidate its current position
as the victim of the hopeful amateur.

It must also have judges who are
in sympathy with its aims.
Of the six judges this year,
three were obviously not —
two deliberately subversive,
the third absurdly whimsical —
so that if the other three judges
were not in agreement,the work
under discussion had no chance.

Time after time ambitious pictures
were rejected for being ambitious
(including one that in my view
should have been the outright winner),
twee little things included for being twee
and the downright incompetent
praised for honesty and charm.

And at the end, when the shortlist
of seven from which the winner is
to be selected by public vote
had been assembled, one of the three judges
with gravitas uttered the damning words:
“Not one of these pictures
is worth £25,000
[the value of the prize] —
there is no winner here.”



from Which Threadneedle piece gets your vote? by Brian Sewell

Untitled drawing. Graphite applied with fingertips and erasers on creased paper. In artist's own collection, not for sale.

Untitled installation, mixed media wood and household paint 130x32mm. Artist's own collection, not for sale

Untitled white gesso on hardboard 540x610mm. Not for sale.

Yes, but is it art?

Tracey Emin has carved a niche,
and that niche is best described
as "If I'd dared
submit this
for Art A-Level
I'd have got a
D minus".

You either love it
or
loathe it,
but it is work about which
everyone has
an opinion.

Some could argue,
and quite convincingly,
that Emin is trying
too hard to be
controversial
and were she to actually
present traditional pieces
of art
(i.e. ones in a frame,
hung on a wall)
she would still be a
complete
unknown
also-ran.

Were I to nail
a dead rabbit to
a polystyrene bock
and then float it
in a barrel
(on which were scrawled
in emusion
the names
of the people with whom
I was at infant school)
of olive oil
I could be
the next
Tracey Emin.

but is that art?

From an Amazon.co.uk customer review of The Art of Tracey Emin

Untitled mixed media white gesso on hardboard 540x610mm. In private collection.

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