Plans to demolish a pub in Brixton which was at the centre of the 1990s ‘YBA’ art movement and replace it with a 13-storey tower have been given the green light by Lambeth council.
There is a documentary in which Damien Hirst gives a tour of his Glosucestershire estate, Toddington Manor, explaining his elaborate plans for its restoration. In one spectacular room after another, with an air of affected genius and childish glee, Damien points at the space and exclaims, ‘You could put a shark in there!’.
Being Tracey Emin is a full time occupation, although probably not as labour intensive as being Gilbert & George. She is saddled with the unenviable task of perpetuating the myth of Mad Tracey from Margate, which is the source of all her power, while also drifting gently into middle age and maturing as an artist to ensure her longevity. So one wonders how she has time for lavish birthday parties, building controversial new houses and judging drawing competitions.
According to the sensationalist headline in the Independent on Wednesday, Douglas Gordon had gone ‘on an axe rampage after receiving poor reviews’ for his new play at Manchester’s HOME theatre. For one chilling moment we wondered if the strain of being one of the lesser YBAs had finally overpowered him, or if perhaps he suddenly regretted that ghastly Pace show with James Franco ?
But then something mystifying happened, something so strange that it feels like we are free-floating in some kind of art market panic room of a cosmos. Francis Bacon’s Study for a Pope 1 did not sell.
But it was also about how much money you could throw at art until art died.
Standing before Tracey Emin’s tiny new paintings in the vast galleries of White Cube Bermondsey, the entire reason for art’s existence unfurls: every line is a snatch of emotion, every drip a careful meditation, equal parts memory and fantasy, brought from artist to audience in an act of pure communication.
If Damien Hirst did not exist, it would be necessary to invent him. In the late 1980s, the London artworld, flooded with Koons, Kiefer and Schnabel, needed a glittering new star.
Jake and Dinos Chapman are nearing the end of a crowdfunding campaign for an exhibition in their hometown of Hastings.
The result is that contemporary art is a myth without a foundation, a copy without an original, a market commodity that is an abstraction at heart.
This immanent and inevitable catastrophe is a lesson in how the unchecked might of the market renders impotent the museums whose mandate is to preserve our rich cultural history.
On the evening of 15th September 2008 three completely unrelated events occurred, which determined this precise moment in time. This is the story of how art survived recession in spectacular fashion and how a philosopher, an artist and a bank unwittingly crossed paths.
Imagine a millionaire who lives on a diet of boiled eggs and iced coffee. He is an altruist and a patron, he is a tyrant and a menace. Imagine that he made the careers of today’s top artists,
A Twenty Year Survey of the Artist’s Work in Etchings and Screen-prints. 28 November – 9 January Private View 27th… Read More