hEyOkA mAgAzInE
Artists protesting against the lack of painting in this year's Turner Prize will be dressed up with flashing Christmas tree lights, when guests arrive for the ceremony. The Stuckists are holding their eighth annual demonstration against the prize, which they condemn as "a tired national joke".
"I love the Stuckists," said painter Sir Peter Blake at an art opening on Thursday 27 November. When asked about their Turner demonstrations, he said, "I am worried about the future of painting in this country … but I cant change it so I don’t bother to worry, I am past it, so I just enjoy my own painting."
During the day the demonstrators are handing visitors a button badge with the slogan, "The Turner Prize is crap", and a leaflet, which says, "The Turner Prize is an annual media circus created by the Tate gallery in order to showcase the most bland and pretentious art currently produced in Britain." The leaflet also features a "not wanted" poster condemning Tate director, Sir Nicholas Serota, "for crimes against art".
Musician Nick Cave, who is presenting the prize, has been sent a badge to wear.
The Stuckists are awarding an "Art Clown of the Year" prize of a custard pie to Dr. Stephen Deuchar, Tate Britain director and this year's Turner jury chairman, for "promoting an even more boring display than Serota managed."
Stuckist artist, Mark D, is nominating the demonstration for next year's Turner Prize. He said, "It's a lot more challenging and innovative than any of the nominees' work. The only challenge in the Turner Prize is how anyone can endure watching it." Serota has recognised "the contribution of the Stuckist movement to debates about contemporary art … particularly relating to Tate and the Turner Prize." The Tate archive now holds leaflets handed out at the demonstrations.
Runa Islam
"Watching a Runa Islam film" deserves to replace "'watching paint dry" as the epitome of boredom. The experience is akin to having your brain squashed by a steam roller in slow motion. It's a waste of good crockery. Greek waiters have been smashing plates for years without becoming lauded celebrity artists. TV crews on foreign assignments manage a far better job every day of the week. The fact that her work is seen of any interest at all is a statement of how removed the art world is from real life. Her work is trivial angst, narcissism and teenage rebellion that would only be exciting for someone who has lived all their life in a nineteenth-century vicarage.
Mark Leckey
This is a blatant conflict of interest, which is the Tate's speciality. Daniel Birnbaum is the director of the institute where Leckey works. This leaves a very sour taste, and fails the standards we have a right to expect from a public institution and such a high-profile event. Last year the Tate awarded the prize to their own show. The Turner should be renamed The Nepotist Prize. His work is no different to people in the local pub talking about soap operas. Artists should make something, not talk about what other people have made: that is the job of an art lecturer, which is what Leckey is, but this is not a prize for art lecturers. He's tedious and self-absorbed as a lecturer, and, as an artist, ten times as tedious. There is no originality or creativity in this, only washed up remains of art.
Goshka Macuga
Her work looks like a children's playground designed by an accountant. It is bland, boring, unexpressive and unimaginative. There is a failure of nerve to face life and experience, and a weak evasion of reality by re-hashing other people's art. She needs to get out more. This is not the best of contemporary art: it is the worst of contemporary art. The wall is decorated with pencil lines that look like rain: we know they look like rain because that is how it is done in primary schools.
Cathy Wilkes
Compared to the other exhibits, Cathy Wilkes' work shows great imagination and invention. Compared to the rest of the art world, it has less interest a half-eaten tomato sandwich. It is astonishing that we should be expected to be interested in the detritus of her kitchen. We all have our own unwashed plates to stare at, if we have nothing better to do. It has no more meaning for the public than a half-finished window display in Regent's Street. The difference is that shop window dressers finish the job they've started. Wilkes leaves us in a limbo of her own narcissism. Any display that features a mannequin or a toilet is corny. To have both is an outstanding achievement of the obvious and banal.