The Frieze PV last night was entertaining - including such highlights as one of the Chapman brothers (busy defacing a £20-note) insulting me for the outfit I was wearing (was it my garish felt ring he didn't like?), and Jeffrey Archer and I exchanging, 'Call me old fashioned, but...'-type remarks. But there it is; I don't think this show should be called Frieze, but 'The What is Art Show'. Because the skills ineptitude on show generally is astonishing.
I've picked out 3 glass exhibits. Top: a pretty bead wall piece (no attribution nearby, but it was at least well made) but what is it and so what? (ergo, the title does add to the piece); bottom: broken bottles (no label again), yeah, yeah - postmodernist statement about the society we live in; right Rebecca Warren piece called 'Husband No. 7' with neon bulb, which I picked out as it rather matched my comments about the fair last year about all the wires and workings showing. I don't know if this is wit or just plain messy. If Grandchild No. 13 finds Husband No. 7 while clearing out the attic, I think they might bundle the lump of wood and trail of flex in a skip.
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