Freak Show at the Frieze Art Fair

Giving the art world a pasting!

I’ve been around the art block a few times and consider myself something of an expert in the art of artistic-mess. I’ve been an artist properly and lived on the poverty line and eaten rice with salad cream. I even sold a few bits n bobs, once to the bird who invented the Telly Tubbies and once to the guy who was chairman of the arts council at the time. Damon Albarn’s mum even paid my studio a visit once.

I’ve worked in the art world online for a dot com boom company selling limited edition artist prints. I met some of the big names and even spent a day at the shark mans house. I helped make his Eyestorm exhibition studio installation and was called upon to re-construct it when the cleaner tidied it up, thinking Hirst's window display [see slide 18] was a big mess left over from the exhibition opening night. Comedy. The truth revealed. And that's where and when I got Hirst to sign my own mini Physical Impossibility of Death in the Mind of Someone Living plastic shark art.

Way back in the day I ran around naked with a guy called Alex playing football with a basket ball and other exhibits for goal posts after a boozy private view at the Decima Gallery. And once I got sent home by porn peddler Gavin Griffiths for getting inebriated on opening night cocktails. Think I got a kiss out of Tracy Emin at the Islington Design Centre, but that could be the wine too. I even met Bez from the Happy Mondays and kissed his wife/bird/girlfriend [I was never that sure which one & slight non art tangent].

Once upon a time many moons ago I had a studio in Colchester, then one in Cambridge and then one in gun-toting Dalston. I’ve got my own collection of art that’s probably worth a few bob too, by some of the above and some great artists of my time. I got lucky and got them cheap, because I got what I liked when it was fresh and new. Even Banksy’s first ever commercial rude copper print that I picked up for a song and now it’s worth a small bomb. So in many respects I feel I’m qualified to speak my mind; it works so many different levels etc. My BA honours in Fine Art stands for Bad Attitude [honestly] in Farty Art today.

I paid a whooping sum for a pair of tickets to the Frieze Art Fair in Regents Park and went along today [yesterday now] for what I hoped would be an inspiring day out with the family. Thank f*** I got my tickets 2 for 1. After pumping £6 in to the parking meter too. The best value for money today by far was the £11 for one coffee, a cold drink and 2 sticky buns. Ouch. And WTF is going on art world!

What of the Frieze art then?

Notwithstanding a few classics, like a stunning Gary Hume bird painting, and a couple of hidden gems; namely the chess wall of the world and some amazing David Shrigley prints [a snip at the asking price of four thousand Euros a pop]. The rest of the floor show excited me as much as a trip to IKEA, and I didn’t even come home with an ice cube tray. The most engaging artwork for me was the bins. I was blown away by one rude old art world hag clutching her clipboard who snipped "You wont let her touch it will you" talking about my little girl that was running rings around a painted tree. Bitch. It's a bloody tree painted white.

Now I know Frieze is a commercial show but still please, lighten up, liven up and try and blow me away with some NOISY stuff. Not this same old same old static fireplace tish tosh. In the good words of a good friend [@diggz] that I bumped in to on the day "Where’s all the interactive stuff" or words to that effect. Hasn’t the world of art moved on since I last paid it a visit? Frankly I'd say nearly half of the tish-tosh at FAF falls in to the "I could definitely do better with a paint brush stuck up my ass" category. I’m genuinely saddened to hear the art world is recovering from the recession and people are buying this shit. Wake up you beautifully dressed shoppers, buy something you really love, don’t fall for the white-washed sales pitch.

Before you go be sure to read why I think Frieze is Still Playing David Beckham and Missing a Trick Shot.


A few hidden gems and some tish-tosh...