Commission Impossible? Home Is Where the Art Is

The Defence of the Old Order (detail), RTomens, 2019

By 'nature' (whatever that means) we Brits aren't supposed to be brash, loud or more to the point, competitive in the most vulgar sense of the word, ie, like Americans, with whom we most often compare ourselves as a gauge of just how refined (comparatively) we are. How this reputation came about lies somewhere in a dim and distant past of cultural propaganda (TV & Film) as much as any kind of reality. Perhaps covering ourselves in the cloak of dignity was a way of trying to make up for a few hundred years of aggressive empire-building, but even that was a process of 'civilising' as much of the world as we could. We knew what was good for 'em!

Despite not being openly competitive nowadays (sport excepted...and business, now that we'll soon be on our own) the TV channels are filled with contests, because merely displaying skills in cake-baking or even dinner-hosting isn't enough. We like watching others compete, even if most of us wouldn't wish to join in the desperate bid to be The Best. It's as if, collectively, we push forward willing participants, saying "Go on, make a spectacle of yourself!". 

The move to make society (schools) less competitive in, say, the realm of sport, is a well-intentioned bid to reduce the amount of kids humiliated by their failure to compete well. We don't want to burden a child with the label 'loser'. Unfortunately, governing bodies can do nothing about the wider competition in society, so we all have to fight to 'win' jobs and material goods, to do well educationally in order to get the kind of career that makes us 'winners' and avoid joining the tribe of 'losers' claiming dole money, eating shit from food banks or working full-time and still not being able to afford that 62-inch widescreen TV on which to watch The Great British Bake Off.

Art is not immune from being made competitive. Why should it be? Just because you have some old-fashioned romantic notion of it being about the outpouring of a soul onto canvas in order to express something profound! You don't? In that case, you probably prefer a nice portrait or landscape. No? Oh, you prefer East German art from the 60s and Neo-Dada collage do you?! Good! You can commission me to do a piece for your front room if you like. Please contact me using the email address.

We're watching Home Is Where the Art Is on the BBC. Catching up on every episode because it's so entertaining. It involves three different artists each week fighting for a commission from people who's homes they nose around in to get a feel for what the owners are like. They meet the owners and make a pitch, then the owners choose two to go away and make the art before one is finally selected after the big reveal. 

We've only watched three episodes so far but the unwritten rule seems to be that the buyers cannot be too knowledgeable regarding art otherwise they might reject all three. So we get to watch the artists poking around very normal-looking homes populated by very normal people who just want something...you know...nice to hang or stand (one sculptor seems to be obligatory amongst the trio). 

Forgive me, but it's hard not to be snobbish about the art that's made. Terrible, I know. These are working artists, toiling hard at trying to make a living from, you know, nice art. It's the only way to make money from art, right? Pleasing colour schemes and safe subjects. Of course. Who am I to sneer at that, eh? But snobbery, in this case, is my only defence against an impending, crushing realisation that I'll never make much money from art so it's necessary to bolster self-esteem by adopting a worthier-than-thou stance. Pathetic.

In theory (huh!) as host Nick Knowles turns to the camera, suggesting that we, the viewers, might like to commission some art, the programme's aim is a good one. Yes! You lot out there, commission some art! Unfortunately, as you'll have surmised, we're dealing with the notion that all art should be pleasing to the eye in the most bland aesthetic sense. Naturally. Poor Art, it's been done over again! It's put firmly in it's place (in a tidy house belonging to good, wholesome, tidy people who don't know Paolozzi from Pollock). It's Art as a branch of home furnishing. It's art that gets bought, eventually, for up to a thousand pounds! I certainly can't compete with that.