Art, as a definite physical object, is usually easy to define. Whether a painting, a sculpture, a musical score, an opera, a song or a film; the end result is hopefully to delight, to entertain, to hush to a reverent silence, to amaze, to arouse silent or dormant feelings. Art is produced also so that the artist may live and prosper, so that they might produce more of their works for our enjoyment.
But there are also forms of art which are produced which state, quite openly, that the artist is so close to genius that they don’t have to worry about ordinary folks’ approbation or approval, because we couldn’t possibly understand their work, mainly because the ‘artist’ is ‘above’ all normal criticism. I myself published a fairly mild criticism of an exhibition at a gallery near where I live, and the thunderous reproof received by return was amazing.
So what are we to make of the three minutes of idle chatter broadcast each morning this week just after the BBC Today programme; three minutes of garbled voices, saying absolutely nothing of interest or value; all produced by ‘artists’ who presumably, will be paid, and paid well, for their ‘services’.