award yrself the Turner Prize

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ok I went to the Tate today with Talitha to see the Turner Prize stuff. Only see we went to the WRONG Tate, Tate Modern not Tate Naff. I think this is a Grate Work of Conceptual Art: eg in this piece we viewed art from where it wasn't, thus undermining notions of positioning and authenticity, and playfully interrogating hierarchies of the 'proper' hurrah

― mark s, Thursday, 22 November 2001 01:00 (twenty-four years ago)

what is YOUR gratest work of conceptual art, and what does it do that shd win YOU this coveted bauble? (or indeed "babule", as I first wrote)

― mark s, Thursday, 22 November 2001 01:00 (twenty-four years ago)

A blue drawing pin in a white wall. It should win, coz it's good.

― james, Thursday, 22 November 2001 01:00 (twenty-four years ago)

Also, a drawing pin in a wall, is not performing it's job of displaying things. This is a metaphor for a wasted life. *sigh*...it's blue coz it's sad.

― james, Thursday, 22 November 2001 01:00 (twenty-four years ago)

i would suggest going here and scrolling abotu halfway down for my own mans-greatest-monument-to-himself. i deserve at least the booby prize.

― jess, Thursday, 22 November 2001 01:00 (twenty-four years ago)

My wasted life, which is a metaphor for a drawing pin in a wall.

― Ally C, Thursday, 22 November 2001 01:00 (twenty-four years ago)

I'm not very good with this conceptual art lark. I had a neat Hirst- esque installation going on with the flies but they've deserted me for Alix now it seems. My faithful desktop normally a source of Takahashi-style clutter is relatively neat esp now I've eaten the last of the comforting Penguin bix num num and thrown packet in bin. My bed is messy but not to Tracey Eminem levels. I do not have a million quid or indeed squid to burn.

But OH OH OH what is this on my desk but the ACTUAL RECORD of my ACTUAL CONCEPTUAL ART this year i.e. the day after my birthday we walked around every circle line station and took a photo outside each one. It was kind of more meant to be an Iain Sinclair/Bill Drummond psychogeographical ritual than art but it was good fun. I should get scanning. What did it teach us? West London is horrible but at least the pubs open on a Saturday.

― Tom, Friday, 23 November 2001 01:00 (twenty-four years ago)

A show entitled "ten white male painters painting the same painting."

― turner, Friday, 23 November 2001 01:00 (twenty-four years ago)

a show called "2 jewish rock critics listening to Slayer".

― duane, Friday, 23 November 2001 01:00 (twenty-four years ago)

i dissected a babule and put it in a jar of formaldehyde. it can mean whatever you want it to mean, man.

― katie, Friday, 23 November 2001 01:00 (twenty-four years ago)

My work of conceptual art is a table, placed near the end of a particularly intellectually rigourous exhibit. This table would be laden with luscious wine and pungent cheese. However, if you got within three feet or so of the table, a loud officious voice booms at you from under the table PLEASE STEP AWAY FROM THE ART!!!

Whenever I get too drunk at art openings, this is invariably what I end up doing. I think I deserve a prize for that.

― kate, Friday, 23 November 2001 01:00 (twenty-four years ago)

Pin the tail on the Goth Britney.

― Sarah, Friday, 23 November 2001 01:00 (twenty-four years ago)

I had some organic tomatoes in the fridge which started to decay, next to some pickled onions. This piece illustrated the ongoing dialectic between purity and defilement. It's quite a pessimistic piece as the pure (organic) decays quickly while the pickles last a long time. The piece shows that glory is transient while bitterness is eternal, as the tomatoes were sweet and tasty while the pickles were harsh and sour.Then my wife threw them in the bin, phillistine.

― Billy Dods, Friday, 23 November 2001 01:00 (twenty-four years ago)

Duane Rules !

― anthony, Friday, 23 November 2001 01:00 (twenty-four years ago)

blue tack voodoo figurines to plug up the holes and cracks in the flat walls

― Menelaus Darcy, Friday, 23 November 2001 01:00 (twenty-four years ago)

CHeap Rothko print fallen down the back of the filing cabinet, with only the top left corner now peeking out. It's an ironic yet playfully affecting meditation on art in the age of mehanical reproduction, which neither capitulates to the reactionary idealisation of the authentic, nor disintegrates into a glorification of the commodification that furnishes its materials. IT speaks provocatively on questions of visibility, invisibility and the power of the passive gaze, suggesting (but not weighed down by) Irigaray's speculum as a means for apprehending (if not authoritatively viewing) the other, and subverting the logic that art must be 'on show' (and that blu-tack 'should stick').

― Ellie, Friday, 23 November 2001 01:00 (twenty-four years ago)

Best work of conceptual art -- not getting out of bed until noon, surely? Best done with a willing participant who also doesn't want to leave the bed.

― Ned Raggett, Saturday, 24 November 2001 01:00 (twenty-four years ago)

it's only art if it doesn't involve an even number, ned: it says so in emmanuelle somewhere

― mark s, Saturday, 24 November 2001 01:00 (twenty-four years ago)

Oh. Well then, you're invited. But you have to stay at the foot of the bed.

― Ned Raggett, Saturday, 24 November 2001 01:00 (twenty-four years ago)

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