Martin Kettle in the revamped Grauniad writes movingly in praise of Hockney, and thinks that the painter expresses and addresses "the kind of people and country that he and we wish we were . . . when Hockney takes a pop at Hirst, I, for one, will cheer, because he is taking a pop at the kind of country we have become, in which attitude is more important than morality, price trumps value, and in which to shock and make a name is privileged over doing something lovely or true . . . " Kettle writes that Hockney's work has "the sensibility and the feeling, even the moral feeling, which is missing from so much that is merely fashionable . . . The modernists, like the conceptualists today, believed that the past had nothing to teach them and the rules all had to change. They were utterly wrong".
It's very rare that someone in the Graun writes something I agree with wholeheartedly. Kettle's words remind me slightly of an interview with Nicholas Maw in which the composer, when taxed with his failure to follow the groundrules of modernism, said that he believed that he was the inheritor of a tradition, and he didn't want to stray too far from it. My sentiments exactly.
Over in the Torygraph Peter Oborne, an opinion farmer so splenetic that he makes me look positively restrained, also thinks he can detect something in the Hockney and Hirst exhibitions that tells us something about the state of the nation, as well as about aesthetics. Hockney's art, writes Oborne, "is accessible, which is why he is loved by ordinary people. He loves them back. At the artist’s request, his canvasses have been hung high on the wall of the gallery so that more people can see them. Hockney understands, in a way that the arts establishment abhors, that art does not belong to an informed elite. . . [Hirst's spot paintings on the other hand] are abstract and universal, lack humanity and have zero reference to time or place: his exhibition is being shown simultaneously at 11 galleries around the world. Skill is not required: no late nights at life class for Hirst, who gained an E grade at art A-level and scarcely knows how to draw. . . Hence the need for experts to explain to a baffled public why Hirst matters: the arts establishment love him so much because he gives them a priestly role. . . "
But it isn't just the arts establishment that is a fraud on the people, apparently - "Progressive ideas are being exploded, Conservative ones are coming back. This affects every aspect of our national life, not just politics. David Hockney did not return to Britain after a long stay in the United States because he had been told that David Cameron would be the next British prime minister, but his arrival here nevertheless says something very important about the national direction of travel. Appearance and reality are no longer identical. Good and bad are no longer indistinguishable . . . Britain is moving back towards a world with solid, enduring values in which, for the first time in many years, public figures can make confident judgments about truth, beauty and morality. It is a world in which David Hockney OM has an honoured place as the greatest artist of his age."
Now I have a soft spot for Hirst, who comes across as a surprisingly unaffected and unpretentious artist in person, and I feel Oborne is probably protesting slightly too much if he thinks Hockney's resurgence is attributable to a sea-change in aesthetic and political values. But the phrase that really grates is "Good and bad are no longer indistinguishable". Philosophers have argued for millenia whether it was possible to distinguish between moral good and bad, and, so far as I have been able to keep up with the debate, have come to no particular conclusion.
In aesthetics it is far easier. It is not possible to state whether one piece of art is good and another bad, because we can only do so by reference to aesthetic criteria - balance, subtlety of form, pithiness, clarity and so on. Even if we could agree on a complete list of such criteria, how would we begin to address the knotty question to what extent a piece of art satisfied one or other of them? And even if we could do that, how would we agree which of the criteria were the most important? What if one work had subtle form, but went on a bit? Or another were concise but a bit obvious in its construction?
I sometimes think the comparison with athletics (yes, athletics, not aesthetics) is instructive. You measure the best hundred-metre runner by lining up the athletes, firing the gun, and handing the garland to the person who gets to the tape first. In art however you aren't even inviting the artists to the starting line. You are saying, "Well you could begin at the starting line, but not necessarily; you could start by the long jump pit; and you don't have to run - you could walk, hop, crawl. In fact you don't even have to come to the Olympic stadium at all. You could just sit at home and watch Richard and Judy". That is how hard it is to measure one piece of art against another. You might just as well try and argue that one kind of cheese is "better" than another. It's a waste of time.
If there are no objective criteria there can be no objective evaluation. Ultimately one's instinctive feeling - that you either like something or you don't - turns out to be vindicated by an examination of the tools which criticism offers for the job. They are inadequate ones. Oborne is wrong about aesthetic good and bad. I liked him more when he was on Newsnight shouting at EU commissars; and I didn't like him much then.
I said at the top of this piece that the Guardian had been revamped, and so it has, with the sports section being lumped in with the main bit of the paper, and other changes in layout which I haven't quite come to terms with yet. This revamp is in the name of cost-cutting, and in a way it tells us more about the state of the nation than Oborne's beloved Hockney exhibition.
The Guardian, losing money hand over fist, has woken up to the fact that its own finances need putting in order, just about the same time that its editorial team - Kettle is I think chief leader writer - is grasping slowly that in the long run there is no alternative for a nation to living within its means. The Graun's readership is way behind on this still, and whenever Kettle writes a piece which shows some signs of an acquaintance with economic reality, the cries of "betrayal" on the following day's letters page are long and strident.
Oborne's sea-change really will have come about when the tone changes to glum acceptance. At the moment we're still in anger and denial.
