Sir Antony has a new exhibition at the White Cube, normally I would give it no heed at all, but I made the mistake of reading an interview, heaven help us, I should know better, stick to the rules and never get off the elevator at level three, it's invariably neuro surgery.
So according to Sir Ant 'we are all sleep walking through life and it is urgent we wake up'.
Well, we must assume he's lost the plot, perhaps the tax haven is sinking under the strain of it all. More than anyone else resident on the little island Sir Ant has spent decades trying to put us all to sleep. No one has produced more profoundly boring, bland, joyless, uninspired and sexless art than he has. There are corners of the British Isles, nay the world, where his gormless genitally challenged iron men stand around in groups unclear of their purpose. ' Groups' is of course a key word for appreciating Sir Ant, he loves to multiply, he knows it's hard to get too much of a good thing. I could under normal circumstances, and have for years, ignored him and the soulless rubbish he has littered the planet with, but for him to have the gall to sound a clarion call cannot go unremarked.
Someone has left the fan turned on because there is a lot of it about this week. I woke this morning to the sound of a much lauded actor giving us his tuppence worth on ethics in art. This wool puller has achieved fame and fortune by mastering the middle distance stare. Now when O'Toole did this you saw the pictures, felt the emotion, the truth of it, with this little worthy you are just left with an image of a fellow experiencing a gentle but probing rectal examination! Brilliant.
AGED AND AWKWARD