|Gotta disagree about the Grayson Perry pots, although they did have the agreeable smell of rotted victoriana about them, they were just not arresting enough for me.|
Anya Gallacio's rotted fruit bits were some of the least inspiring work I've seen since I left art collage. They just said nothing, ok time passes things die, so what? Also they were very reminiscent of something I've seen before but which I can't put my finger on.
Willie Doherty's video installation was also completely pointless. Why bother making a piece of art so vague that you can read anything you like into it? Is it about the peace process? The pressures of urban life? Man's constant struggle? I suspect it was about nothing.
Chapman brothers redeemed the whole thing. Although the two sex dolls looked a bit like space filler and just weren't that good, 'Sex' was stunning; grim, unsettling and fucking funny. You can tell the two Chapman's loved melting their plastic soldiers in the garden as kids.
The goya 'desecrations' breathed new life into the originals. As you went round them the (beautifully realised) cartoon faces almost began to dissapear and you were left with the horror of what was being depicted. Stunning stuff. Also the Chapman room was the only place in the whole gallery where you got a sense of people interacting with the art; laughing, talking, going 'eeeew' exetera.
I kind of want them to win and don't at the same time. Like when it looks like the band you've been into for ages looks like they're about to get big, not that it'll make a blind bit of difference I suppose. Crazy art cats.
Oh, and I agree about the Bill Viola installation at Tate modern as well, although usually I can't stand his stuff.