The Turner Prize

There are usually two types of reactions that the majority of people experience when confronted with the term “The Turner Prize”.

The first type of reaction involves a certain image springing to mind, usually resembling the notorious “My Bed” kindly contributed by artist Tracey Emin, in all of its blood-stained and defecated glory.  This may then induce a grimace, or at the very least a raised eyebrow. The second type of reaction is more complex – drawing subconsciously on society’s depiction of the Turner Prize in recent history, certain words are flung about in the head; words such as “PRETENTIOUS”, “BULLSHIT”, “SADISTIC”, “INCOMPREHENSIBLE”. Thus, a decision not to spend a mere £8 at the Tate Britain is made.

Aside from the fact that £8 is hardly a fortune, (£6 with a student card, FYI) my fervent argument is that this year’s portrayal of young British artistry is actually quite compelling; with my task to convey this without giving the game away so after reading someone will willingly witness it for themselves (i.e. wishful thinking.)

So this year’s victims shape themselves to be Lucy Skaer, Richard Wright, Enrico David and Roger Hiorns. Collectively their diversity in medium is noticeable – from Wright’s use of paint and gold leaf to Hiorn’s scattering of atomised jet engine.

However it’s how they effectively DEAL with the art they have produced within the gallery space and the response it provokes that is most striking. One would think Skaer’s gargantuan partial adult male sperm whale skull (below) is the focal point of awe in the exhibition, but really it’s the way in which she hides its vastness from view so the only way we can mentally assemble it is through small gaps between the walls.

Labelled by various critics as “a modern fresco painter”, the viewer is naturally drawn to the physical intricacy of Richard Wright’s luxurious work, a wall of pattern convoluting and entangling itself.
Yet, the way in which it is placed speaks decibels louder than the work itself – at the very end of a truly humongous and very empty white room, commanding its own serenity.

Now, perhaps, a better understanding can be ascertained as to why the general public are so quick to judge this unjustly named “postmodernism”. It’s both easy and safe to form an opinion on a static image, but that only half-represents the work of the artist; the other half is the spatial gallery itself. The cliché “you had to be there” doesn’t just apply itself to a past it’s sell-by date joke. Granted, the setting itself is artificial, with major emphasis around the £25,000 prize. But the work, the very fruit of these artists labour if you like, speaks beyond such a competition. So disregard feeble headlines such as the Daily Mail’s oh-so-funny “A whale skull, heap of dust and rocking eggmen? Must be this year’s shortlist for the Turner Prize…” and trek to the Tate Britain yourselves.

Sophie McHiggins

The Turner Prize is announced Monday 7th December and the exhibition runs at Tate Britain until 3rd Janurary 2010.

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Tags: Art, Media

This entry was posted on Friday, December 4th, 2009 at 10:39 am and is filed under Featured. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed.