.Evan Anthony on artist and the Royal Academy
One of the most important events on the London art calendar is the Royal Academy exhibition. In an average year, 12,000 submissions are received from more than 4,000 artists. In spite of the entry fee, swarms of optimists arrive on 'sending-in day' on fopt or by taxi, bicycle and van to join long queues at Burlington House; a majority of whom meet there again in equally long queues to collect their rejected work. The lucky entrant whose work is accepted receives a complimentary tiCket for the season and an opportunity for his work to be seen by hundreds of potential buyers as well as dealers.
A sobering thought for the aspiring exhibitor to keep in mind is the amount of available space that is already allotted to predestined pictures as each Royal Academician is entitled to exhibit six works. The Academicians are usually reserved a hanging place 'on the line' — at the viewer's eye level. In 1962, one third of the exhibitors were members of the Royal Academy. Rejected artists are in good company. They may derive some consolation from the fact that the proportion of space remaining for unbiased selection is very small indeed when compared with the great number of pictures submitted.
So writes Francis Kelly in his The Studio and the Artist, published earlier this year by David and Charles. Kelly, not among this year's entrants who sUccessfully survived the 'unbiased selection' phase, would be the first to concede the value to the artist who does get hanging space, on or off the line. Last year he sold nine prints of an etching, despite the twenty-foot 'eye-level' line at which it was hung. "None of the detail was
visible at that height," says Kelly, thus suggesting that a jumble sale sale attitude applies to the Academy's annual fete; there will always be someone around to appreciate a bargain. And there is no doubt about it — there are a number of bargains at the summer exhibition.
There is a £3.50 entry fee, covering the `handling' charges of up to, and including, three items any applicant cares to submit. When considering the mammoth task of the organisers, this year having to whittle down from 11,015 entries to the 1,374 works on show, the need' for a handling fee is understandable. But it would seem, as Kelly suggests, that the Academy could afford a consolation prize to the rejected artists, of a complimentary single admission ticket. Of course, that could lead to scenes of disgruntled artists, making rude comments about the work that did get Academy space.
If I have counted correctly, approximately a quarter of the exhibits are those of an RA or ARA. There are also the works of RA students, and inevitably, those of artists 'known to' the selection committees. Without wishing to imply a charge of rampant nepotism, I should like to offer that a review of selection procedure may be in order, with the possibility of cutting from six to, say, four, the entries of what Kelly refers to as the 'predestined' work of RA members claiming their ciroit de
seigneur. Or perhaps a separate show of RA work, splitting the lengthy period of May 3 to July 27 into two parts would be a good idea.
The current show? No more nor less, really, than its recent predecessors. It is a potpurri of styles and abilities, and in several instances that distorted eye level position awarded to some of the less fortunate entries makes one wonder who was responsible for the hanging. It did not, in the case of William Entwisle, stop me from appreciating his interesting ink drawing, 'Grey Fathom', which I should like to fathom at closer range; I have a note in the catalogue against Mary E. Herdiman's 'Landscape: Forest with Hills', advising me to buy it; it would be a shame if the Academy had not included all six of David Tindle's pictures, but 'Woman in a Deck Chair' is an exceptional example of his talent. As for the rest, to save space, while being helpful to intending visitors, I suggest closer looks at 33, 290, 299, 648, 704, 875, 889, 906, 995, 1136, 1202, 1230, 1284, 1305 and 1373.
As for the `celebrities', I suppose everyone's eager to read my opinion of John Bratby's 'Flight: Mr John Stonehouse MP • and the Seventh Earl of Lucan'. Since the picture does not live up to the title (neither MP nor Earl visible), one can only give marks for Bratby's ability to garner publicity, and I eagerly await next year's title: maybe 'Artist performing Erotic Acts with Paintbrush' will do the trick. Ruskin Spear's 'True Blue' doesn't immortalise Margaret Thatcher, but she is recognisable — just. Patrick Procktor's affection for the theatre, I suppose, inspired 'Helen Mirren as Lady Macbeth in a Production without Decor', but it is a sloppy work that hardly supports the passionate view of her attributed to ardent admirers. Mel Caiman's two cartoons, nicely framed, are witty, and will probably earn him more than he would get from the Sunday Times, but then, the paper doesn't frame them.
A final word, about Willi Soukop's papier mache sculptures, masterfully done, and just the solution to the question of what to do with your waste paper. It is a brilliant job of 're-cycling', and actually, quite attractive.
Passing to other things, at the Blenheim Gallery, Cork Street, running not quite as long as the Academy show, is an elaborate gag by R. 0. Lenkiewicz. The show is provocatively called Painting's Designed to Make Money and the artist is sending up our reverence for masterpiece exhibitions. It is clever, and you will find a number of things to laugh at, but when all is said and done, there are the pictures, and I can't help but wonder what Lenkiewicz will do once, and if, he gets your attention.
William Pye's imposing tubular constructions, mounted in jigs for the occasion, seem to burst out of the confines of the Redfern Gallery, Cork Street, but since the exhibition is intended to show how an artist goes about making these constructions, you should be able to overlook the constricting gallery atmosphere and appreciate Pye's swirling pipes. •
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