DECADENCE OF ART IN GREAT BRITAIN
Some
investment bankers lead a varied life. If 35-year-old
Emma Chan is not clinching deals at her desk, or snowboarding in Switzerland,
she can be found chatting to celebrities on London's South Bank - in the nude.
Chan, from Twickenham, and her boyfriend Rob, who is also an investment
banker, spent last Tuesday evening upstaging Nigella Lawson, Stephen Fry and
Hugh Grant at the opening of the Saatchi Gallery in County Hall. She was one
of 160 'extra ordinary, ordinary' people who volunteered to take their clothes
off in public for the American artist Spencer Tunick. 'It was so liberating. I
just feel so lucky to be one of the few who did it,' she said. Chan and her
fellow nudists were tempted into participation by the offer of a signed
photograph of the event and they were not paid. The disparate group had been
recruited through a listings magazine after art collector Charles Saatchi
secretly commissioned Tunick to create a nude tableau to launch his
contemporary art gallery.
'I automatically applied to join in,' said Chan. 'I had already taken part in
his Greenwich installation with my sister, although I had never done anything
else like it before that.' Along with the other volunteers, Chan and her
boyfriend were asked to take their clothes off and lie flat on the terrace of
County Hall as the sun set. After their exposure, they were invited to the
champagne party inside - on condition they keep their clothes off. 'At first
when we heard we could go into the party as long as we went nude, we all said
no,' recalled Chan. 'But then, after the photographs had been taken, our
adrenalin was running so high that we just went in. We all thought "Well, we
are art and these people are here to see art". The funny thing was, I didn't
feel naked at all.' Strolling past Jade Jagger and Tracey Emin, Chan found
herself being photographed with Channel 4 news presenter Jon Snow. 'People
talked to us about what was on the walls,' she said. 'But I looked around at
one point and there were three women taking photographs of me.' The fact that
Chan had already taken part in another Tunick tableau makes her something of a
veteran. The artist prefers to work with newcomers. 'I don't really use the
same people,' he said. 'I try to stay away from nudist organizations. On
Tuesday they were just everyday people and they often have strong reactions
because it might be the first time they are nude in public. They each have
their own reactions to participation. Most people think they can predict what
it feels like, but it's a collective, new experience for the body.' The
Saatchi gallery occupies 40,000 sq foot of space in London's Edwardian County
Hall. Its prime position on the South Bank is opposite the Palace of
Westminster. The building was designed in 1908 . In New York, where Tunick
lives, he customarily appeals for helpers by handing out flyers on the street.
'I never wanted to have the same people following me around, so I just hand
them out. Occasionally someone finds out about it, but it is usually fresh
people who take part.' One of the newcomers last week was also the oldest
participant. Sixty-one-year-old Jane Roberts from Winchester has never had any
interest in public nudity, but took the train to London on Tuesday to disrobe
on the South Bank. 'I didn't even know it was the opening of the Saatchi
Gallery,' she said. 'But once we were all there was such a good atmosphere.
Spencer was very reassuring.' Roberts also joined revelers at the party. 'I
couldn't believe I was walking around naked with all these famous people. Lots
of people congratulated us. I did it because I firmly believe the body is
something of beauty and in a way this was a challenge to people. I thought, "I
am old, fat and short - come on, accuse me!"
He's gotta have it
No one has
done more to shape modern British art. But the so-called Supercollector has as
many critics as admirers. In the most revealing portrait of the 21st-century
Medici, Jonathan Jones goes in search of the real Charles Saatchi.
Charles Saatchi stands on the
steps of the Marriott Hotel inside London's County Hall, looking down into the
circular courtyard. In the middle of this hollow space is a turfed ziggurat,
bright green in the afternoon sun. He is telling me about what lives below it:
two and a half million rats. This appears to please him hugely. Two and a half
million rats under the building in which he is about to open his new art
gallery. It reminds me, oddly, of a previous conversation about rats.
When I spoke to the curators of Tate Modern on the eve of its opening three
years ago, they told me with some embarrassment that the hordes of rats from
Bankside power station had fled to a nearby council estate. Perhaps all this
tells you is that if you live by the Thames, you'd better not be scared of
rats.
But I can't help thinking that the two contrasting images - Saatchi
gloating about all his rats and Tate Modern vanquishing theirs - represent two
versions of art about to do battle beside the river: the Tate's high-minded
vision of a politicised and serious contemporary art, and the rather more
ratty and gothic version in the collection of Charles Saatchi, with its
rotting cow head, dead shark, child murderer and porn cuttings.
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