The value of art

Instead of a walk in the countryside this Wednesday, four of us met in Gloucester, to visit the Cathedral exhibition, Crucible 2. Some of us spent more time on it than others, but there's never a shortage of things to do in Gloucester, especially on a sunny day.

100 exhibits are a lot to take in. I didn't look at them all, but one or two stood out: Kenneth Armitage's giant hand on the lawn North of the chancel; the Vulcan maquette by Eduardo Paolozzi in the crypt; William Pye's water sculpture in the South transept, to name just a few. None of these has any religious significance, so what, you may wonder, were they doing in a Cathedral exhibition?

Actually, I'm quite comfortable with the idea that our great religious buildings should be used for the widest possible range of activities. What's more vexing is the way our perception of art differs according to the monetary value placed upon it. Crucible 2 is not a selling show, but we are all aware of the astronomical prices for which contemporary works of art are sold. Indeed, security is obviously a major concern for the organizers of this exhibition, though the hordes of people going round - no wonder, when entry was free - were very far from being frisked.

My photograph juxtaposes one of the well-secured exhibits in Crucible 2 (Kate Parsons' "East West - matter of interpretation") with - in the foreground - a cheerful framed colour photograph of May Hill, left by the local Free Art Friday group for anyone to take home with them. Does this subversive placement make it a Disobedient Object, as currently on show in the V&A?

London

We've been by train to London today, with our grandsons. We managed to avoid the rain, and indeed it was warm and sunny for much of the time. So warm in fact that the boys' main memory may perhaps be of splashing about in the V & A pond after lunch in the adjacent café. More fun than most swimming pools.

On our return, the train glided (glid?) out of Paddington just as the sun was setting. Did Brunel design "God's Wonderful Railway" so as to afford an especially beautiful outlook at that hour? I doubt it, but all the way to Maidenhead the sky was a thrilling kaleidoscope of colour.

Can and contents

Some of what we experienced in London last weekend made me wonder about contemporary culture. Would we really throng to the vast and sumptuous Saatchi Gallery, for instance, to see those enormous American abstract works of art (they seemed utterly baffling and indeed hideous to me), were it not free to enter and a mere stone's throw from Sloane Square station?

Ditto, the Telling Tales show at the V. & A. This again has a sumptuous setting (as the V. & A. is looking splendid these days). The pieces of furniture etc. on display are - we are told - known as Design Art: "they retain their role as functional objects, even if their usability is often subordinated to their symbolic or decorative value," in the words of the handout. So, we see two large blobs of red urethane on the floor with the title "The Lovers' rug," the urethane representing the average quantity of blood in two people. Cosy?

I was pleased to be able to get to the Serpentine Gallery for the first time: what a great space, and how lovely to be able to look out from it over Kensington Gardens! I admired too this Summer's temporary pavilion outside, by Kazuyo Sejima & Ryue Nishizawa of SANAA. But the exhibition? Jeff Koons has been working on a Popeye series over the past seven years: we are therefore treated to an array of huge, lurid cartoons, and brightly-coloured sculpture - something for instance looking like a rubber ring, crushed between a pile of plastic chairs, but which is in fact made of aluminium. Entertaining, and skillful work, but life-enhancing?

Certainly not in the way the BP Portrait exhibition at the National Portrait Gallery was. As usual, it was fun to criticise the judges' choice of prizewinners, but here there was plenty to admire and be grateful for. Interestingly, very few were self-portraits this year.

In the evening, we went again to the Tête à Tête Opera Festival at the Riverside. Here, the surroundings are none too luxurious for contemporary opera; but was this opera? I enjoyed it last year, for its novelty and nerve; but this year it was just tiresome. Four pieces over the two nights, and none worth repeating, was my view. Even a rather charming piece by Glyndebourne Youth Opera, "Who am I?"

"Prinknash treasures"

This is the title of a loan exhibition at Simon Chorley Art & Antiques, Prinknash Abbey Park. You can only catch it until 14th August though. I recommend a visit.

It was news to me that the monks of Prinknash, always rather a low-key bunch as I perceived them, possessed so many beautiful objects. But a number of the monks have been - indeed are - artists, with friends and patrons who have acted as benefactors over the years. One member of the Community (a noted potter and stone carver) was the son of the cartoonist Heath Robinson: three of his delightful paintings featuring the monks are exhibited.

Moreover, the founder of the community at Prinknash itself was it seems a devotee of the Arts & Crafts Movement. This lovely Madonna and child on marble is by Eric Gill: I loved seeing traces of the censoring hand (shades of Silvio Berlusconi's Tiepolo) which applied the masking tape to Mary's right nipple!

Gill was also responsible for the rather severe drawing of the first Abbot of Prinknash, Wilfred Upson - left, below: Abbot Wilfred seems a little less daunting in William Rothenstein's seated portrait (right, below).

The tape residue and the crack across the Eric Gill tableau say much about the state of the "Treasures". Tender love and care has at some stages perhaps been in short measure; jewel-encrusted chalices could do with a polish, and if the caption wordings were expanded, that would assist those less familiar with the whys and wherefores of ecclesiastical hardware. The current Benedictine Yearbook lists only nine priests at the Abbey now, which must be part of the explanation. And anyway today's monks might have other priorities than to spend all their time maintaining the ornaments of a past era - which ties in with the substance of my controversial post of last Monday.

Nevertheless, there is a great deal to surprise and admire. For a Monday morning, the exhibition room was pleasantly full. Had the show been mounted - as well it could have been - by the V&A, thousands - rather than dozens - would have been delighted through paying a visit. There is still time!

Thanks to Simon Chorley's generosity, all proceeds from the exhibition go to the NSPCC.