I hadn’t read up on the Turner Prize nominees before I bought my ticket. I wasn’t aware there were only four nominees and that it was even held at the Tate Britain – I assumed such modern, liberal art was always housed in its younger, edgier sister, the Tate Modern. But what do I know? Modern Art has never really been my forte. I was, however, keen on opening my mind to it.
That was, until five minutes in.
This year’s offering consisted of three video installations and one room of prints. Now I’m sure that all these works of modern art must have deep and meaningful subtexts, but from an outsider’s point of view, I expected (and not irrationally I believe) to be wowed by what one of the art world’s biggest prizes was offering. The thing I love about art is it’s all subjective, and as much as I hated it, I haven’t really stopped talking about it. So call me a philistine if you will, but I’ve made up my mind, and this kind of thing isn’t for me.
In fact, walking around the Turner Prize exhibition did make me feel a bit stupid. Almost like modern art is an exclusive club and I wasn’t on the guest list. That was, until something glorious came along. Tickets are £10, but they’re worth it for the comments board alone.
Power to the people, you glorious people. You brought me back from the edge of feeling like a world-class dipstick…
First there were the visitors who were clearly unimpressed and downright direct:
Then there were those who were only in it for the gift shop:
Some people were seriously confused:
And then there was the CAT SECTION:
And finally, the most spot-on comment of them all:
Turner Prize, it definitely was an eye opener. Maybe let’s give it a few years until we meet again, yeah?