The adventures of Orange

or more accurately a review of Conceptual Art Britain at Tate Britain.  Conceptual art has an image problem in the public consciousness.  The old, "I could have done that". Well probably you could but the point is, could you have thought of it. 

As an idea I am fine with this,  that the concept is the art.  The problem is that it is often quite boring to look at, and smacks of extreme self indulgence.  The Tate Exhibition has both of these problems.  It also has the added issue that, as the exhibition is of the early days of conceptual art, many of the tropes it uses have been copied ad infinite-um at second rate degree shows across the globe.  It therefore smacks of both being cliched and trite.  I had to remind myself that these people were doing many of these things for the first time. This does not get you away from the "really?" reaction.

By way of an example the picture of the artist eating his own words.  It does not help that this image, along with many of the images on display where quite dull, black and white photos. The whole setting was wrong to, it was too quiet and needed obnoxious people chatting and drunk. For me it doesn’t work in setting of quiet reverence.

There were some pieces I quite liked.  Homeostat Drawing No1 was a sort of shit Agnes Martin but ok. 

In the first room was my favourite piece, a pyramid of Oranges by Roelof Louw.  I was vaguely wondering what happened to the oranges and whether I could take one and it turns out you can! I grabbed one feeling terribly transgressive and stuffed it into my bag.  No this is in an example of conceptual art at its best.  It makes you think, it makes you feel something, it says something about the nature of art and galleries and it forces you to act or interact in a new way.  Well done Mr Louw.  It is only a shame the the best piece in the show is in the first room and there after its all a bit dull.

In the same room was a mainly black painting by Bob Lowe called Blue black and violet which was nicely meditative. There was also Michael Baldwin's famous mirror which made me laugh the first time I saw it in the Tate Modern last year, with all these people peering attentively into it and taking photos, basically of themselves.  It is I am convinced a joke on the consumers of art.  There was also an ok piece by him in the next room called Hot, warm cool and I can't remember by who the most irritating self serving piece a black painting called "the secret painting" the subject being a secret known to only the artist.  Well it can stay that well you self important prick (whoever you are).

Some guff about a cabinet filled with timed photos in the next room and fairly interesting selection of photos of a camera in different light conditions. 
 
In the longest room arranged on a shelf was a work by David Tremlett called The Spring Recording which were a long line of cassettes labelled with British towns.  I had a strong urge to knock them down like dominoes, such where they arranged.

There was on a  glass of water on a high shelf, made me feel thirsty. It was quite a good idea but there is only so long you can look at a glass of water.  The whole exhibition had in display cases a selection of worthy pamphlets.  Dense type and jargon.

Also in the long room a piece by John Tatham, a timed banner operated by a switch. YOu can’t operate it yourself.  Every 30 minutes someone comes in and solemnly presses the button and it unfurls.  At least so I assume, I was not prepared to wait the 20 minutes to find out.

In the final room there was the time honored  scribbled on print and collages of newspaper ( inevitably with a sexy picture). This is prime example of something that is now horribly cliched.
 
The whole thing took me some 20 minutes.  It was quite interesting and in quite informative but if you don't have an interest in the area then it will irritate you.  Perhaps you like being irritated.
 
I took the orange with me.  It did inspire me to create my own piece of contemporary art so I present to you now; the adventures of Orange.
 

Orange is out of the exhibition but is still in the gallery so is safe and assured that it is still art.

Outside the gallery the context is still reassuring to Orange and Orange is happy that it is still art.

Displayed in a park Orange is in a transitional phase and is considering become public art.

Orange comes over all Banksy and temporarily becomes Street Art

The mundanity of bureaucracy interferes with Art. Orange being of course an immigrant is forced to apply for Leave to Remain. 

Orange is taken to a gallery to recover, where Orange feels superior as it is in the presence of mere figurative art.

Thus rejuvenated Orange fools itself into thinking it is doing good by consenting to appear as Public Art on the Tube.

The reality of commercialism bights hope and Orange is taken to a middle class home to supplement its owners cultural capital.

Disaster! Orange is placed in a bowl with mere oranges, which are not art because they have been nowhere near a gallery.  Orange thus becomes an orange.

An orange is eaten.  Is it the same orange.  Does it matter if it is not?

Fin.