As a context to 'the best years of our lives', the exhibition of new graduates from the West Midlands , curated by Michelle Cotton, Gordon Dalton asks - Are there too many artists?
This essay first appeared on Midwest – visit www.midwest.org.uk
and Gordon at www.re-title.com/artists/gordon-dalton.asp

There are too many artists. They are selfish, arrogant and pompous. They are naively stupid, gullible and corruptible. They have a mind full of other peoples’ ideas. Their self-importance holds no bounds. They actually believe there is a line between what they are and the institution. They think they are outside of the establishment whilst plotting to become part of it. Never trust an artist. They will stab you in the back.

There are too many art schools. Hundreds of universities and colleges are vomiting out thousands of graduates every year. They are breeding grounds for lazy reprobates who couldn’t or didn’t want to get a proper job. They are homes for failed artists of previous generations who are too jaded by the culture wars to pass on anything remotely like good advice. They should be saying stop now, get out. Instead they are saying this is how you get away with it. We are swamped by a mass of over-eager, under skilled rampant artists every year. It’s getting worse.

There is too much art. Public art, digital art, installation art, socially-engaged art, environmental art, performance art, painting, sculpture, minimalism, expressionism, abstraction; post-this and neo-that. Who needs it? Who needs that kind of hassle?

There are too many artist-led initiatives. They continue to prosper despite having any obvious evidence of ambition other than having an opening for their friends and local art dignitaries. They gather together, reading Protect & Survive in murky spaces with their wagons circled to protect themselves from the natives. The artist cowboys have learnt defensive skills and are now surviving more and more, in larger numbers than ever before. They now are adept in reaching the hallowed land of the establishment whilst still wearing their ten gallon hats. One or two of their number will get some reputation or attention through their combined efforts, and will leave the group to lurch on in their slipstream.

There are too many curators. The old guard recognised this and protected themselves by inventing themselves as a younger, hip gun slinging version. The strongest of the new breed promoted themselves to generals, formulating new ways of becoming the institution. They have the power and the glory. They believe they are more creative than artists but still the artists look up to them. The curators scratch each others backs and give glossy lip service to the artists. Never look a curator in the eye. They are a dark empty pit of bitterness and resentment.

There are too many artist/curators. This is a dangerous sub-division who have been spawned in a humid studio in London , with the spores successfully taking hold in damp regional towns across the UK . They have spread mainly due to a defect in their DNA that makes it genetically unfeasible not to include their friends in their ‘curated’ exhibitions. Whilst they should not be underestimated by the galleries or the curators, they will soon self destruct by spreading their measly resources too thinly across two battlefields.

There are too many galleries. The directors of these galleries have struggled through the hard times, but they now proliferate in villages, towns and cities across the once barren plains. They staff the galleries by picking-off a few artist stragglers, keeping the weaker ones hostage till they agree to become arts administrators. They wish to fill their halls with the great and the good, but buckle under the influx of the new baby boom of artists, full of dogmatic optimism. Instead they are full of the ok and the not so bad who have either moved up from the artist-led camp or have been relegated from the upper divisions of the establishment.

There are too many museums. They were once pantheons of power, with the doors firmly closed. Now they are now flung open to all in a vain attempt not to be left behind or burnt down. The contemporary artists have stormed the barricades and pillaged the contents. It is strewn across the floor and left to rot. The dusty vaults are now empty. The museums are now full of plastic dinosaurs and children’s workshop’s, the Contemporary Art Museum has sprung up in its place. These are inhospitable places designed by architects for a lot of money. They are best friends with the commercial galleries and the independent curators. It would be stupid to be otherwise.

There are too many contexts. The galleries and old museums couldn’t cope with the artist invasion with their refreshed, reinterpreted ideologies. The artists spilt out onto the streets and engaged in taking the battle to new territories, preaching the word like fundamentalist missionaries. For a while they pretended to care, and spent a long time discussing whether it was right to stampede through someone else’s life for the sake of a good review. But now they just get on with their interventions and relational recreation. They are innovative in their approach in infiltrating these novel contexts, but the flag of aesthetics was left behind as they crossed the border. Somehow the artists and curators have become very successful and managed to persuade everyone that you can be socially engaged and show the work in a gallery or new museum. Which, when you think about it is brilliant economics.

There are too many biennales. As I write, your local politician and councillor are pressing flesh with a curator and agreeing that what your town needs is a biennale. God help us. Stop this madness now. It is like a disease. There are too many open submissions, residencies, commissions, exhibitions and general opportunities on offer. Obviously the artists are champing at the bit and slavering on the application form. Do not feed the artists. They will bite.

There are too many critics. Their invective has become weak where once it was strong. They were able to crush rebellious uprising and inspire constructive critical discourse, which led to a more select art being made. Instead, they have become bloated on the good times, fed on a decade of glamour and glitz where they forgot to actually write about anything. They have become submerged in footnotes and referrals to their Roget. No one dare write anything approaching vigorous criticism because they would shoot themselves in the ass. There is always another critic to take their place. One or two still survive, and there is hope for some of the younger ones, if only they’d stop talking about themselves and bickering in art magazines.

There are too many art magazines. It pains me to say it but they got duped too. Not that they are complaining. Some became fat with adverts from promoting the word according to the artist-led crew, the galleries and their directors, the curators, the colleges and those damn persistent artist-curators. Some became like a self help manual on how to be an artist. Some have forgotten that they are an art magazine and have become celebrity or credibility bibles. Come on in, join the club.

There is too much money. The governmental corridors of power spewed out used notes left, right and left again in a vain attempt to glean some fashionable credibility from the contemporary art cowboys. The government’s capitalist economic policies twinned with the education systems emphasis on academic prowess instead of vocational trades means that 30,000 trained plumbers with be needed by 2007. Instead, we will have 3 million new artists drinking cheap bottled lager and crowing about how working class they think are.

There are too many commercial art galleries. This is not strictly true. What do you expect with all these artists? It would be like complaining that there are too many newsagents. It’s supply and demand, simple capitalism. They are the clever ones because they can take advantage of the situation and still have complete influence over absolutely everyone else whilst retaining all of the contemporary art credibility.

And so it goes. Artists have to stop pretending. In fact they just have to stop. Lay down your guns and walk away. If you decide that you still want to be an artist you have to have solid, water tight reasons for doing so. You have to batten down the hatches. You have had it easy for years, wasting your time and energy with your liberal fannying around and explorations into this and that. You are scheduled to be shot at dawn with the curators and critics and your bodies will be buried among the bones of the artist / curators. Think hard and be vigorous in your decision. There is no second chance. Stop thinking about being an artist and think about art. Making art is easy, anybody can do that. Thinking about it takes a bit more nous.

Stop whingeing at the back. Make your decision. Why are you an artist? I’m sure your problems are very, very serious. Unfortunately, they are not that interesting.