Visual art exhibitions and events with a platform for critical writing
The Prince Albert, Brighton
31 December 2004 - 31 December 2008
Reviewed by: Micheal O'Connell
A key activity of the newly formed Doomsbury Set, based in East Sussex, UK, will be to take the kinds of imagery and artefacts which escape critical attention more seriously. Generally it is seen as acceptable to state whether one does or does not like a displayed crafted or manufactured object. Presumably it is also okay to consider them in more depth. The producer might see this interest, rendered in the form of a written review say, as complimentary or at least useful regardless of whether the content is patently encouraging.
For a variety of reasons the inhabitants of Brighton are spoilt for choice when it comes to such ‘overlooked art'. The Open House scene emerged in recent years for instance and has grown to the extent that now a person leaving their front door open risks inviting an immediate flow of polite intruders. Most cafés and pubs display paintings, prints and 2D material, usually for sale. As well as those that are considered the more serious art spaces, the city is packed with craft-oriented shops and (barely) commercial galleries. Graffiti, bill board improvement exercises and apparently more subversive street art decorates the urban, yet unquestioningly somewhat provincial (not meant in the pejorative sense) landscape.
A reasonable starting point for examination is the prominent portrait of deceased radio DJ John Peel which adorns the outside of The Prince Albert, a pub and music venue located close to the main rail station.
If Marcel Duchamp pointed out that "bad art is still art" then this image, really bad art maybe, worthy of Brian Sewell-style tirade, makes a fair subject for our attentions. What kind of canonisation is this: the employment of a cross between Stalinist Social Realism and unoriginal Fantasy Art technique to commemorate the avant-garde talent-spotter? Blatantly inappropriate. If he were alive John Peel might disagree, he was no muso-snob, happy to take the Eurovision Song Contest seriously for example. A first question is whether the picture should be judged at all by its sensitivity to the subject character in question. We could be obscure and ignore the fact that this is a Memorial but for the sakes of argument let us imagine that the image's suitability for this purpose is a key criterion.
John Peel once appeared on This is Your Life and seemed reasonably uncomfortable with the focus around his personality and history. Listening to, collecting, playing records and talking to an audience through the medium of Radio were what occupied him most. Glorification, of the Albert pub wall variety, surely acts to embarrass that simplicity or integrity. Peel is not around so these arguments are hypothetical but should such an influence, one who was heard primarily, be celebrated through a crude enlarged mugshot, the visual equivalent of Snow Patrol say, at their most anodyne? Or the illustration is like those voices on radio who, following his death, mimicked Peel's intonations and habits, as if repetition of originality is still originality. What this image does is to dilute, or pollute, the collective memory.
If satire were intended then the fresco makes some sense but that effect would have to be palpable. Completely unnoticeable irony is not irony. Unfortunately the artist who took it upon himself or herself to make this, to include decorative edges, pseudo-Celtic touches around the frame, a nauseating, meant to be subtle, saintly halo to the already boringly executed central zone, was intending to produce an earnest and appreciative statement of some sort. Nothing at all is left for the imagination here, the piece argues with no one, is not deliberately imperfect in any way. Not that this is crucial but Peel peppered his radio show with plenty of, more than whimsical, wit and enjoyed highlighting his own errors: some jokiness would have been apt here.
A sense of suspense, some excitement, is built up because of the exact location: the whole portrait is not immediately revealed to those walking downwards from Brighton rail station. Perhaps the positioning could have been exploited further to unleash more of these inherent dynamic effects.
If the work was commissioned (by the proprietor of The Prince Albert say) then that is no excuse for the artist, similar to the usual ‘I was only obeying orders' justification for collusion with the indefensible. To employ an inappropriate analogy the Renaissance painters took risks to incorporate their own conceits and surreptitiously challenge their patrons. Diego Rivera did it with Rockefeller. Bighting the hand that feeds you is an admirable artistic strategy.
Other graffiti decorates the same wall, firstly a famous Banksy image, amusingly now protected by Perspex, then a photorealistic depiction of George Best, as seen from behind walking off, and a comic-style character head. All the parts, including the Peel head, are interesting and odd in their own ways. The wall is certainly seen and looked at. In contrast to galleries, which give punters the choice, outdoor imagery, whether placed there for commercial or other reasons, is imposed on passers-by. This wall incites a response: occasionally the Banksy picture is vandalised, then repaired. Some unconscious and bizarre curatorial collaboration has taken place, or still is taking place: it will be curious to watch how the ‘Albert Wall Collection' develops.
m@mocksim.co.uk |
www.mocksim.org
Venue detail:
The Prince Albert
Trafalgar Street
Brighton BN1 4ED
UK
www.myspace.com/theprincealbert
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Mocksim presumes that it is okay to consider 'manufactured objects' in more depth. It should be perhaps demanded that this be the case, if the nascent manifesto of the doomsbury set be adhered to. Mocksim also points out that we are free to choose our taste. For this is a democracy after all. The point still remains however that some opinions or judgements are more informed than others. The doomsbury set wish to examine artistic judgement, seriously. What then makes an informed judgement when looking at 'John Peel Memorial'? It probably starts with the recognition of who John Peel was. It goes without saying that the artist has wanted to commemorate the life of a DJ, but at no place on the memorial does his name appear. It features as phantom, a form of cultural currency that cannot be denied. It is the stregth then of this currency that informs the artist. A semblance of representation is all that is needed, for 'all those who knew of John, will recognise of John'. This apparent ellusive touch is categorically undermined by the fact that it is by nature a commemorative mural - for whom? The mural lauds over a perfectly respectable wall. In a town where religion and worship are seen as suitably uncool, this mural takes on a strong messianic tone. A God for the unsaintly hipsters, the independents who know music from musak... An expression of cool remembrance for a humble human being that treats art not as symphony but as jingle.
posted on 2008-08-19 by Lord Lloyd Ugo