Tag Archives: art
I was flicking through Christie’s catalogue for the April 5th contemporary/post-war auction during a fag break the other day when a lot caught my eye – “Wrapped Couch” by Christo (1973). Estimate £30,000 to £50,000. Cheap for a piece by Christo, I thought. A closer look told me why – not a sofa wrapped by Christo, but a multi media piece on card (roughly 3 feet by 2) created by Christo of a proposed project entitled “Wrapped Couch”. I didn’t check the provenance but later, back at my dull employment which requires no brain power, I had a vision. Picture the scene:-
Christo’s office. A slow day. Probably Friday afternoon. Christo sat at a desk with his feet up, texting his mates. An assistant idly rummaging through a map chest.
ASST: Christ, you haven’t half got some old tat in here.
CHR: Tat? What do you mean tat?
ASST: Well this for a start. (He holds up a large, dog-eared sheet of card) Are we ever going to make this fucking wrapped sofa or what?
CHR: Nah. Scrapped the idea. Not monumental enough.
ASST: That’s my point. Why’ve you still got the old sketch cluttering up the place? Any use or not?
CHR: Not any more. Sling it. No, hang on…send it to Christie’s. Some fool’s bound to cough up for it.
ASST: OK. Any estimate? Reserve?
CHR: Let’s have a look…$80,000?
ASST: Thank you and good riddance. Now what other crap we got in here?
CHR: (Suddenly alert) Hold on, hold on! Don’t pack any more off for auction, you’ll fuck up me market!
ASST: Keep your hair on, I wasn’t born yesterday.
Or how about this? (I do have a LOT of time for daydreaming some days))
Damien Hirst saunters into a workshop in the grounds of his manor. A bit grumpy. A bit hungover. He cracks his shin against a low lying lump of art by the door.
DH: Ow! Shit! Kev? I’m fed up tripping over this fucking thing.
K: Well don’t look at me – you made it.
DH: Fair comment. But can’t we get rid? When did we last ship out to Christie’s?
K: Ooh, now you’re asking. Six months ago? Eight months tops?
DH: That’s no good then. How about…got it. A charity auction. Set up some kind of…celebrity…charity…fucking…auction thing. Bung it in that. And those pictures under the window. And that ugly great thing propped up behind the compressor.
K: Righto. What charity do you fancy?
DH: Fuck knows. Use your initiative. Autistic kids? Orphaned hedgehogs? Summat with no politics in it.
K: AIDS in Africa?
DH: Are you deaf or daft?!
That’s the art market sorted. I’m more interested in the forthcoming photography auction in New York, to be honest. Robert Doisneau prints are dirt cheap right now and he’s been one of my favourites since childhood. So if you’re one of those people who can’t decide what to give me for my birthday and you’ve got $10,000 to spare, you might be in luck.
An acquaintance has put out a request for contributions to what sounds like an intriguing project – stories of plane crash survivors.
No idea what she intends doing with the material, but knowing her personally and something of her work I would trust her with anything of mine.
I can’t find any of her work online or in my archive but some of her Dad’s paintings and multi-media work is here .
Channel 5 finally got around to screening the second half of the series “Brian Sewell’s Grand Tour”, featuring Sewell following the route of the English “grand tourists” of the 18th and 19th centuries through France and Italy, a journey he previously took as a student 50 years ago. The 9th of 10 programmes is screened next Tuesday at 7:15 pm.
Sewell is a neglected and often ridiculed beacon of intelligence, taste and culture in these wretched, dim, darkening isles, where culture is no longer seen as having any value unless it has monetary value, and creativity has no purpose unless that purpose is to generate income. There is no room for art any more, it’s been elbowed out for yet more commerce and shopping, overseen by the heavy, drifting slick of managers, agents, funding bodies and appointment panels who settle for the safest option. Shits.
Sewell was on BBC Radio 4’s “Quote Unquote” an hour ago, implying that the enthusiasm for the motor car so forcefully expressed in the 1909 manifesto of the Futurists was in fact nicked from Toad’s similar excitement in Kenneth Grahame’s “Wind In The Willows”, published in 1908.
He’s probably right.
Should anyone read this who is unfamiliar with Brian Sewell and his work, go to brian-sewell.com , where t-shirts are only 28 and a half guineas – or for a flavour of his style of delivery explore the Brian Sewell soundboard and other delights at the .co.uk site.