Arts
Where's my momA?
Alistair Hicks
Where's my MOMA? Adults can and frequently do ignore this question, despite psychiatrists' assurances that the child's balance of mind can be jeopardised if this primaeval cry is left unanswered. Londoners, however, have long been used to a surrogate Museum of Modern Art, the Tate Gallery, which has given birth to many exhibitions but never nurtured and inspired us like a proper MOMA. It only takes a brief look at three other cities to show the full extent of our capital's desolation. New York has had a MOMA since 1929. Its current exhibition, 'Primi- nwsm' in 20th-century Art is long overdue; It is a thorough, objective yet thought- provoking study of the influence of tribal art on modern western artists. New York- ers are made to think about their civilisa- tion by being shown thousands of examples of African and Oceanic art in direct rela- tion to modern masters, but are clearly warned against common inaccuracies and academic heresies. The organisers seem just as keen to disprove the influence of an artist by a particular mask as demonstrate it. It is an exhibition that could not appear in England. Our facilities are inadequate and our minds and eyes denied. Scotland on the other hand makes a brave attempt to fill the gap.
Edinburgh's MOMA, like New York's, has just re-opened in more extensive pre- mises, and although their first exhibition, Creation: Modern Art and Nature, was like a short visual article in comparison with the American doctorial thesis, it too offered a Point of departure for those wishing to dwell on the visual arts. It is tiny Oxford, however, that underlines what London is missing. Their MOMA until 7 December was holding two of its own exhibitions as well as hosting Matta: the logic of hallu- cination, an Arts Council travelling show. Here Roberto Matta is quoted as saying, 'The artist is a public servant trying to wake up the viewers.' It is true that many artists are not fully recognised whilst they are alive; how often is it said, 'Oh they are ahead of their time'? We should not fool ourselves. An artist's comment on society is always most vital, most valid the moment
he makes it. London's apparent indiffer- ence to contemporary art is not only depriving artists of the right to 'visual Speech', it is an insult to our own intelli- gence.
The Tate have made a tentative announcement to the effect that they in- tend to remedy the situation. Amidst the fanfare for the Clore Gallery, which will house Turner's massive bequest to the nation, they have plans to build another gallery for New Art 'and by New Art we mean the work of the last ten years or so'. Alan Bowness, the director, goes on in his biennial report that 'this has its own audience, which is generally young and very enthusiastic, and it poses problems in the way that it is collected and displayed'. This sounds encouraging till one considers how low the project comes on the Tate's list of priorities. The report mentions that the money has been put up by an 'anony- mous private donation', but the name of the benefactor is not the only thing Mr Bowness is relectant to talk about. He refuses to talk about the plan at all.
If and when the Tate confirm that they are going to build a new building for New Art, we should ask ourselves if this is good enough. It is a question the anonymous donor may well be asking himself. After all the two most likely patrons have little reason to thank the Tate and its record in the living arts doesn't bear too close a scrutiny. Not that this has been possible in the past for the gallery has steadfastly refused to reveal figures on their pur- chases. Their public accountability seems virtually non-existent. If the NHS over- spend on sheets we are told, if the Tate pay too much for a Rossetti it becomes classified information. However, for the first time they have released figures to the Spectator, which were originally as- sembled for the still hushed-up State of the Arts report for the Gulbenkian Foun- dation.
Last year the Tate had a total grant of £2,021,000 (after cuts). They spent 8.7 per cent of this on work by living British artists. In the last six years expenditure on this category has averaged just under 12 per cent. In 1978/79 as little as £22,000 worth of paintings and sculpture were bought from British artists and their deal- ers. Michael Compton, a curator, actually asked me, 'You don't think it is our job to keep artists and their dealers alive, do you?' Maybe not, but whose job is it? The Government certainly don't think it is theirs; the Arts Council spend less than 0.1 per cent of their budget on direct purchases for their collection. As a country we give average support to the performing arts, but
have totally abandoned their source, the creative arts. In the absence of a MOMA,
artists have only one place to look for national recognition — the Tate. It is not fit, not designed to meet this expectation.
The Tate is at the moment struggling nobly with a multitude of tasks. It cannot cope with the demands a nation should be making of a National Museum of Modern Art.
The resistance in Britain to modern art is legendary. Our great tradition of collecting has been trampled upon and we are be- coming mere caretakers. A MOMA is needed more in this country than anywhere else. We are under threat of living in a dead age, of turning into complete visual illiterates, of going blind. A MOMA would be the most effective way of arguing the case for modern art. It would act as a focal point, bringing us artists' comments on our lives today in the most forceful visual manner possible. The Government owe it to us. After all it is they who have educated most of us so badly in the arts, it is they who are indirectly responsible for the limited and unimaginative coverage of the visual arts on BBC and they who make British collec- tors pay 15 per cent more on contemporary art than that of the dead. It will take more than a new branch to the Tate, a gallery that is only prepared to commit 12 per cent of its budget to British living artists, to wake up the British public. It needs the combined strength of every living artist in Britain. It needs a focal point to their energy. Nothing less than a MOMA can detonate the explosion needed to wake us up and let artists do their job.
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