a poem is a naked person . . . some people say that I am a poet

Apparently Bob Dylan

“has welded for 40 years as a form of catharsis”.

That is, he

“welds like you would play golf,”

in case you know what golf is, but not catharsis.

During these 40 years, he has made quite a collection of gates and railings by welding together various old tools and pieces of machinery. These are on display, and on sale – low six figures for a gate – ‘for the first time‘ at a gallery on New Bond Street. Along with the gates there are ‘wall hangings’ – something like 40 scythes, 20 cogs and 60 pairs of pliers, arranged into a circle (and why not). And along with these are some paintings, which the gallery sensibly put downstairs. These are the sort of thing Paul McCartney does, whereas the ironmongery is the sort of thing high-functioning schizophrenic men who live in tents in suburban woodland do, along with sculptures made with a chainsaw from a single tree trunk.

First of all, the gates are actually functioning gates, or at least look like they are, with real connectors and hinges down one side of them. So you can buy then and actually hang them between gate posts to keep people out of your garden. It isn’t clear if Bob Dylan comes with his welding equipment and adjusts them himself if you want say, the hinges on the other side. Nor was I sure how you drop Bob Dylan’s authorship of your gate into conversation when it is being admired, especially if it’s by people who aren’t aware of his welded oeuvre.

What really got me about the steel sculpture was the finish though. Rather than leave them naked, the working-class rust of his native Winnesota ore, or whatever, like the schizophrenic men would tastefully have done, they were powder-finished to be shiny metal color, and one scythe or rawl or crowbar or each gate was painted shiny red or yellow or blue. This made them look like fictional artefacts from bondage-themed steampunk, as rendered lovingly in digital 3d on deviantart, only in real life.

Bob Dylan is largely famous for not being able to sing or play the guitar particularly well, and writing lyrics which make these deficiencies unimportant. It would obviously be unfair to suggest that he shouldn’t make things out of pieces of iron, unless there was some kind of reciprocal agreement that welders would no longer attempt to bang out ‘Blowin’ in the Wind’ in their own leisure time. But if he could do something with ferrous metal which was nearly as surprising as hearing his songs for the first time, you wouldn’t be buying it in W1, even for £165,000. You would be able to see it from space.


Monopoly bored

‘Street artist’ Alec Monopoly is showing at Mead Carney Gallery on Dover Street until 11 January. A selection of the works on show.

The title of the show is ‘Luxury tax’, a feature of US, but not British Monopoly. (Monopoly is a trademark of some games company who have a tendency to sue people for creating games called things like Alcoholopoly, Lake Distropoly, or Stop Global Wopoly) Most of Mr Monopoly’s pictures feature the running man in a bowler hat who is the mascot of the Monopoly game. Presumably he is hoping that he gets sued by the Monopoly company so that he can start some kind of viral backlash as a publicity stunt.  There are also various dollar signs and other things like 1950s gas station comics children holding dollar bills up and so on. These are usually done spray paint with some stencils and then a tag of the artist’s tag ALEC and some other painted bits in acrylic, on top of a collage either of old comics, or of newspaper clippings about the global financial crisis, or something else.

It’s not really clear if Mr Monopoly is commenting on money itself, or the practice of making some out of putting street art on a canvas in a gallery and selling it, or if he just wants to get some money without necessarily commenting on anything. Of course, you can put a lot of thought into an ethical question and then still behave in a way which you know to be clearly unethical. You only have to lie to yourself once. The people that buy this are presumably all rich, and they either think it’s a jolly jape to have a painting hanging up which ‘satirises’ how rich and stupid they are, or they are so rich and stupid they don’t really care. The final possibility is that both Mr Monopoly and his rich customers are gleeful about how much money they both have that they want to celebrate it with tacky, crass art which glorifies money without any pretence of depth. But then why would they do this in full public view rather than behind closed doors??

In any case this is quite possible, given the motif of pretty much the only memorable one – Monopoly man (he actually has a stupid trademarked name) crucified on a ‘Wall St’ sign. Are we supposed to be happy about this crucifixion? It seems more likely that this is an attempt to gain sympathy for round bowler-hatted men, sacrified on an altar of whatever it’s supposed to be, people with iPhones in Zucotti park. Mr Monopoly was probably taking designer drugs and reading about art history on Wikipedia the day he thought of this one, and there are very few crucifixions in art history which are not intended to evoke sympathy for the victim.

The simple answer is probably that Mr Monopoly is not making art for either the rich or those who require facile cartoons to express their disapproval of the rich for them. He is making it for both – for anyone who EITHER thinks his stuff is worth money OR that it has some other merit.

The good thing about bad art is that it establishes that good art is really real, since that which is present but usually invisible in good art is blatantly absent from bad art. Damien Hirst’s art is the world’s biggest advert for conceptual art, since looking at conceptual art which lacks any ideas, reminds one of how many ideas are present in even quite abstruse or poorly executed conceptual art done by proper conceptual artists who are not Damien Hirst. Looking at Mr Monopoly’s work is similar – it reminds us that there are quite a few ideas are present in Banksy’s work, since otherwise it would look like this. His stuff does contain ideas, just not as many as one per picture. There should be at least one per picture, some artists have many more than one per picture. If there is less than one per picture, by the pigeonhole principle at some point the artist must have started painted a work from start to finish without ever once using thought.

There was a nice exception, a painting of Bob Dylan with spray paint drips that went up instead of down. Bob Dylan has sheet music collaged behind his face, slightly inappropriately since he doesn’t read music or write his compositions down on staves. It looked like this, but I don’t think it IS this one, just a self-plagiarism of it.Imagee:

There were also various combinations of Bob Dylan, Jack Nicholson and other cool people of that ilk who probably have lots of money. There was also another ‘straight’ portrait, probably of Robert Kennedy, Roman Polanski or Ben Stiller, which looked quite good from far away.

Outlook: SELL the bowler hat stuff. Target price: 5 bitcoin.