 If you are firmly enough rooted in your masculinity, it shouldn't bother you much to have a woman on top. It's a good deal more relaxing, it's often more satisfying for both parties, and you can see a lot more of what's going on.
- Kinky Friedman,
Paris based curator and writer Catherine David has been announced as sole judge of the 2008 Walters Prize.
David was the first woman to direct/curate Documenta – the biggest art show on the face of the planet. The edition of Documenta David (ideologically) shaped (Documenta X) was the last of the 20th Century.
David is infamous for almost single-handedly eliminating visual art from Documenta. She prefigured this deed (of legerdemain – now you see art now you don’t) by refusing even to name the artists chosen for the exhibition. In doing so the curator baldly put her self forward as a professional-class-legislator of what art should be.
Documenta X was aptly described by one critical wag as – “One big textbook.” Another commentator coined it the “Academic Documenta” I would describe it as the monotonous and humorless triumph of the art historian’s reiterative lecture hall over the artist’s generative studio.
100 days of lectures preceded the exhibition itself and the tombstone marking visual art’s grave (a grave dug furiously by the David’s publicly admitted antipathy to and distaste for contemporary visual art) was an 830 page coffee table book (art as archive) intended to provide – “a political context for the interpretation of artistic activities at the close of the 20th century.”
David’s vision for the future of art (as filtered through the exhumed and re-animated cadavers of iconic 60’s figures) is in bleak black and white text. A grisaille landscape populated with press-ganged visual artists who are reduced to illustrating a predetermined text which advances a relentlessly historicist agenda.
What benighted New Zealand person or committee decided to invite this infectious ‘art-professional’ (a chancre on art’s body) to come here and decide who will be anointed this year’s top New Zealand artist. When will artists collectively seize this band of parasites and toss them into moat - to rot and fester alongside humanity’s other failed projects.
Does anyone enjoy the thought of visual art being replaced by an eternal/perpetual floor-talk? Art’s unruly, multi-vocal party replaced by the single-droned cant of a lecturer. My vision of hell.
Give this fucking plague-frog the boot or risk finding yourself shackled, for the life of your visual arts career, to the wall of a Foucauldian Bastille.
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