Kevin's Watch

The other day I produced a relatively good copy - a forgery some would say - of Work No. 88 by Turner Prize winning artist Martin Creed. It didn't take long; I started with an A4 paper block of printer paper and one by one screwed up each sheet into a ball until on about the fifth sheet, one came out in a nice regular spherical shape. Creed had himself, on a tv documentary, said that he could get a good shape about once every six tries, so I hadn't done badly.
The inner imp inside me looked at the ball along side me and thought "I could sell that on eBay (Creed sold his 600 or so, numbered and boxes for two hundred quid a piece) and make some . But then I got cold feet; no - it would be fraud, or forgery or something; I'd get into trouble. But would I? On a program about the Tate Gallery's notorious purchase of a pile of bricks in 1975, an art critic had stressed the difference between art and craft. Art is about ideas he had said, craft is about skill in executing them. Many artists have to realise a high level of craft in the execution of their art, but it is not of itself an indispensable part of the art.
Never is this more true than in the difficult field of conceptual art. Carl Andre, artist behind he bricks exhibit, was first to acknowledge that his work required no skill to execute: indeed the artist did not even need to be present at it's construction. All that was required was a set of instructions as to how the work was to be set up or out and anyone could do it. But the work, the idea, remained true - and that of the artist.
So where does that leave my hall of paper; it sits there on a small dish in my study and it is a work of Martin Creed. Why then do I hesitate to sell it as such. It is entirely within the scope of conceptual art that I do it with no deception being practiced - but I'm not going to. In fact, I rather like being the proud owner of a work by a Turner Prize winning artist!

Saw this great documentary recently: Who's Afraid Of Conceptual Art

--A

Yes, I saw that too Av. In fact it's where I first encountered Work No. 88. On the subject, in the documentary I saw on Equivalent Vlll (the Tate pile of bricks to you and me), it turns out that Andre had previously enhibited the work in a New York gallery as a sale item, but when it had failed to sell, he had returned the fire bricks from which it was constructed to the brickyard and received a refund on his money. When, two years later, the Tate had seen the work in a brochure and contacted the gallery to see if it was still available, Andre had whipped back to the brickyard, found it closed down, and then located another one where he purchased 120 similar (not the same - the original ones were no longer in production) bricks which were duly packed off to the Tate with instructions as to how they were to be arranged. Thus the work exhibited in the Tate was neither made from the original material, nor by the original artist who conceived of the piece; in other words, in all respects the same as my version of Work No. 88.

Haha, yeah, was my first exposure to it too.

However, must say I really loved "Insertions Into Idealogical Circuits."

I think conceptual art is like all other art. Either you like and / or get a specific piece, or you don't.

Some of the ones I liked, some I didn't.

--A

The program at least helped one to make sense of what might otherwise be a bewildering movement in art, and like the presenter I came away feeling there might be more to the idea[s] than I had previously given them credit for. In respect of Andre's 'Bricks', I again felt that the Tate had been vindicated in hindsight, with what at the time had seemed [to the uninitiated at least] a ludicrous purchase. Given that it was made from the public purse at a figure of what would equate to about 28 thousand ponds in today's money, and that Andre's works normally fetch in the region of 2.5 million at auction today, it doesn't even seem to be too bad an investment even in purely monetary terms. The work is now however regarded as a seminal piece in the development of the minimalist movement, so the gallery has been vindicated in artistic terms as well.
As to 'what the work means'; I can't really say - but a number of contributors to the program made the observation that it isn't really part of the deal that a work should immediately wear it's meaning on it's sleeve - it might actually require some work on the part of the observer as well for it to reveal it's hidden depth. After all, something as mundane as a game of football would seem a nonsensical thing if observed with no understanding of the rules or aim of the game; why then should a piece of art be different.

It's a double-edged sword...I don't really like it when pieces have to be explained...

--A