Culture House Daily From the archive

Tracey Emin’s knickers – a short history of contemporary British art

29 May 2014

Tracey Emin’s bed is to be sold at auction this summer with a guide price of £800,000 to £1.2 million, although the man who sold it to Charles Saatchi has said it’s priceless. Emin was part of the British art movement in the ‘90s that gave Richard Dorment trouble at dinner parties; this scene is an occupational hazard of being an art critic, he said.

‘The beautiful person I’m sitting next to has bluntly informed me that modern art is rubbish. We’re only on the soup, and a long evening stretches ahead. Whether or not we round this dangerous corner depends on my neighbour’s tone of voice, which can range from raw aggression to lively interest. If it is confrontation she is after, the rule is: change the subject as fast as possible. If she persists, the rule remains: don’t go there. But if, by now, she’s on to Tracey’s knickers, then I’ve got a full-blown case of modern-art rage on my hands.’

Just as long as his neighbour wasn’t too angry, these confrontations could sometimes give Richard Dorment a chance to wax lyrical about contemporary art.

‘Why this obsession with modern art? In a period of huge social change, artists show us what is happening to us even before we are aware that it is taking place. This work rattles around in our heads because it tells us something we didn’t know about ourselves…As for Tracey’s knickers, it still amazes me that within months of the exhibition of her famous unmade bed, most of the population of Britain were glued to Big Brother on television. I’m not saying that the bed is a great work of art, but I do say that long before the rest of us figured it out Emin understood the changing nature of popular culture and exploited her knowledge brilliantly. For, like the contestants on Big Brother, Tracey became famous because she was willing to live her life transparently, in front of a camera, in a glass box. That’s what the bed is ‘about’: not Ms Emin’s personal hygiene. When Marcel Duchamp said that life was more interesting than art, this is precisely what he meant.’

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Around the same time, in 2001, Martin Gaylord was coming round to Tracey Emin.

‘Despite provocative pieces such as her notorious bed, she is an old-fashioned sort of artist. She produces figurative drawings, she used to paint quite well, in her general approach she is an expressionist. It seems likely that, if her favourite artist, Munch, were to be reincarnated, he too would start making videos in which he recounted all the terrible things that had happened to him, and how ghastly he felt…On the other hand, in the age of the personality cult, she thrives…The foundation of her national fame was probably her appearance on a television discussion about the Turner Prize more drunk than anyone has ever been on television before or since. The British may still not know all that much about art, but those who behave extremely badly in public, they take immediately to their hearts.’

Not all Spectator writers were willing to put up with the YBAs, though. Under the headline Knave of Arts, David Lee deconstructed the Saatchi marketing machine that made Damien Hirst and Tracey Emin so famous. When Hirst sold a replica of a £14.99 Woolworth’s toy for £1 million:

‘The way it became the most famous sculpture in Britain since Tracey’s stained bedsheets is indicative of the now familiar modus operandi of Charles Saatchi. He knows that in an age when all fashionable art is as good or bad as everything else being produced, precisely because there are no longer any criteria for judging anything, the only ingredient making one piece of art better than another…is the artist’s standing.’

Saatchi’s gallery gave The Sunday Times a preview three weeks before the exhibition opened. They focused on the price “obviously helpfully supplied, accurate, exaggerated or otherwise, by a gallery which could out-spin Shane Warne.” When the piece came out, people (who may or may not have been put up to it) called in to the paper to point out that the sculpture was a copy of a toy. As Lee pointed out, there was no reason to show the sculpture three weeks before opening unless to provoke a debate about plagiarism.

‘There was also the issue of the artist’s possible hypocrisy: Hirst is never slow to protect what he perceives as his copyright while apparently borrowing from others whatever he wants without either prior arrangement or subsequent acknowledgement….By this stage it didn’t matter whether the sculpture was any good because it was already famous and had easily justified its million-pound price tag on the strength of its notoriety alone. In a world where stardom is its own reward, to be talked about and noticed is everything…The work of art as something to be looked at and appreciated for its visual qualities has given way to the object as catalyst for argument. It doesn’t matter if the work, as is indeed so often the case, fails to live up to its advance billing, because it is only ever as good as the publicity it generates…The depressing aspect in all of this is that the most discussed artists of the day are now those with the most manipulative and inventive news spinners representing them.’ 

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Show comments
  • shiva

    I’m against gay marriage, I’m not against civil partnerships that provide the same rights as hetero married couples.
    لیزینگ خودروخرید و فروش خودرونمایندگی ایران خودرو

  • mandelson

    Saatchi – aka Elsworth Toohey

  • Bonkim

    How disgusting!

  • Gerbarnes

    But it can’t speak! Does it have the aroma of, er, an unmade bed and a room that needs airing?

  • Simon Fay

    Tracey and co were just the British children of Warhol. Their only legacy is in opening up a field for good returns through investing in the documentation of feats of cultural management. That they were canny enough to deduce (and delineate) the character of the emergent junk culture they rode in on just makes them high-powered Del-Boy types at best.

    • GeeBee36_6

      Well said.

  • GeeBee36_6

    Art was, until the time of the French Revolution, not expected to ‘mean’ anything. It was commissioned to reflect power, which is to say religion and political (military) triumph. Take music. Until Beethoven, there were few examples of composers who stood in the romantic tradition of pure expression (Mozart had snuck such works in under the noses of his employers of course).

    After Beethoven, it became fashionable for patrons to indulge composers, and some even managed to make a living independent of wealthy patrons (not many though). Enter Wagner, whose life and career almost exemplified modernism (although the man had almost unbelievable good luck). The point to bear in mind is that, by and large, art was the product of craftsmen, who did more or less what they were told.

    Today, however, when for the first time in history, humanity has persuaded itself that it has successfully cut the umbilical cord of tradition, anchoring it to order, security and sense, ‘art’, as is no more than would be expected, reflects this risky moment in history. Perhaps even unwittingly, it affords a commentary on the true nature of the modern post-traditionalist world. And it is a world cut adrift from the transcendent virtues. There is, in short, little room for truth, beauty and goodness. In spite of the age’s arrogance, and its trumpeted assurances of its own security and validity, Tracy Emin and all her works at least reflect the reality of the age: ignorance, banality, trite platitudes and, above all, a quite monstrous ugliness that, like the rage of Caliban on first discerning his reflection in the looking-glass, seeks to deny true beauty wherever it is encountered.

  • GraveDave

    She’s dreadful. Utterly shameless. As for her website it has to be seen to be believed. Really, talk about a license to print money. Imagine getting up and having a crap and being able to sell it moments later for at least a hundred and fifty pounds online by PayPal.
    Well Tracey does this 24/7 and even manages to clone her turds. .

  • Frank Marker

    You’re all missing the bigger picture

    • GraveDave

      No, it’s definitely an unmade bed.

  • Picquet

    As others have said or implied below, the tragedy is that there are tremendously gifted artists in Britain whose works are ignored by the critics in favour of pouring praise, scorn, ridicule, fame and infamy on the rubbishy non-art displayed by artistically untalented clowns like Emin and Hirst. Naturally, in an age of ‘celeb’ worship, the clowns get the big bucks for their efforts.

  • La Fold

    Modern Art, biggest scam going. 1.2 million for an unmade bed?

    • mitate

      it is not modern art. modern art involves painting or sculpting prowess. think ben nicholson and barbara hepworth, england’s finest.
      no, the above comes under the heading conceptual or installation, i believe.

    • BarkingAtTreehuggers

      bigger than the art of money printing?

      • La Fold

        No but its not far off, but its a colloquial turn of phrase innit?

  • Tron

    Tracey Emin could only be considered an artist in a country where armed robbers called Skull Cracker walk out of Open Prisons and murderers give press conferences with the blood of their victim still on their hands.
    A crazy place.

  • monty61

    The best riposte to the modern art con is a story published in 1837 by a young writer called Hans Christian Andersen. It’s entitled ‘The Emperor’s New Clothes’.

  • IainRMuir

    What irritates me most about this is not Tracey Emin’s opportunism. If I had no talent but the opportunity to make a killing, I probably would. What irritates me is that it receives so much publicity that many people think that all art is like this, and treat it accordingly. It’s not the only example.

    It brings art into disrepute, which is a shame.

    • mitate

      what’s a bigger shame are the artists with superb painting and sculpting skills who never receive even a mouthful of oxygen. i know one incredibly modest artist who barely ever shows her work, yet creates the most exquisite modern paintings.

  • Ricky Strong

    Seeing that bed again reminds of the cleaner who threw away a contemporary artwork exhibition mistaking it for rubbish. We need more of his ilk.

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