Art Vulgar and fun Evan Anthony
It's usually a toss-up whether the Summer Exhibition at the Royal Academy is going to be hailed as "what fun" or slammed as "how vulgar." Let us compromise with a "how vulgar, what fun" for the surrent edition — the 206th. It is not obviously more or less of either than its predecessors — and anyway, it would be absurd to assume that critical comment is possible, or for that matter, necessary.
How can one assess an exhibition containing more than 1300 artefacts? What is discernible, if one must make a meal of it, is an air of reckless abandon (of a conservative sort). Not that there is anything daring, or avant garde, or innovative about this year's show (do I hear sighs of relief?), but it does look more a potpourri than ever. A guess is that the selection committee had adopted an "if you can't fight 'em, join 'ern" philosophy, giving up, at last, any pretence that serious judgment is involved in deciding what should decorate the halls of the RA on this occasion. With thousands of artists entering their wares, a pastiche result would seem to be inevitable. What has evolved is a collection of work that runs the gamut from "isn't that awful" to "isn't that nice." As always, it isn't the work that inspires comment so much as the event itself: the Academy's summer show has become, intentionally or otherwise, a sociological phenomenon — something to be studied by future generations as yet another indicator of where we were at in the 'seventies.
This particular show will doubtless follow the example of the last few; the press will soon regale us with figures that prove it to be a smash commercial success. At the private view,, one had only to glance around to notice hordes of people, feverishly jotting down numbers; wives nodding approval to husbands, husbands nodding approval to girlfriends, everyone happy to find something he could afford and appreciate. While not entirely reminiscent of Ascot, it
did offer the traditional array of derelict dowager duchesses (or so a socially-informed acquaintance observed), along with contented artists, their friends and families, and members of the public fortunate enough to be on the RA's mailing list. The crowd alone confirms the shrewd business sense of this exhibition; and what's wrong with satisfied customers and artists meeting on common ground? If the ground sometimes gives the impression of being a bit too common, well . . . don't go looking for the wrong things and you won't be disappointed.
As for the content, the Academicians are out in full
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