Art Attack

I just like blue, innit

Youknow what makes me ever so slightly nuts about modern art? Not the art itself,no. In fact the art itself I love.What makes me wantto run through a gallery with a flame thrower, though, is the little explanationsthat accompany said pieces of art. Jesus, what stunning displays of completeand utter bilge.

In fact, I reckon that these little plaques which have beenadorned with 200 words of festering bollocks are works of art in themselves.How else could you explain the levels of creativity employed to make a canvasof splodges appear to be the work of the giddying extremes of humanity?

This is partly down to the fact that I have my own mind.Look, if a lawn mower strewn with condoms and bunting is your contribution tothe world of art, fine. Just don’t tell me what to fucking think about it, OK?

Yet my loathing is more down to the irrepressible poncinessof said descriptions. No one ever accompanies their work with a plaque thatsimply says “I just like pink, that’s all” or “It’s something I knocked upwhile I was watching Corrie.” Oh fuck, no. I get the feeling that anything lessthan three paragraphs of indecipherable toss and a reference to an abusive pastgets you chucked out of the club.

In fact, one way to pass the time while surrounded by modernart, however much you love the stuff, is to play bullshit bingo. Just look outfor the following words:

• Juxtaposed
• Vagina
• Reference
• Idealised
• Coherence
• Juxtaposed
• Dialogue
• Penis
• Organic
• Femininity
• Encapsulation
• Juxtaposed

And that lot is just to accompany the building works thatare currently going on in the reception area.

I once had to be removed from the Geffen Contemporary at MOCA in LA after reading 500 words about one tiny pencil mark on ablank wall. Then there was that moment in Madrid when a white canvas was saidto represent my very own ovaries. And in the Glasgow Museum of Modern Art,after learning how a pile of bricks and drainpipes represented the journey offeminism, I filled an entire page of its guestbook with my own lengthyexplanations. I do believe that had my fellow visitors been playing bullshitbingo they would have then spotted the words:

• Cobblers
• Ponce-buckets
• Conceited
• Stool-water
• Spleen
• Bastards
• Don’t
• Sausages

So spare me the convoluted imaginings of exactly why a onedollar note has been pinned to the wall, will you? And don’t bother with thedeep and meaningfuls over an empty milkbottle that’s been balanced on ashoe. You’ll get more admiration from meif you put your wittering to one side and just admit that you think it lookskinda cool. Oh go on. It’s called showing originality, isn’t it?