I love the Turner Prize.For those not in the know, it’s the annual art prize awarded for . . . well, if most people are to be believed, being weird, ‘not-art’, something a five-year-old can do or something simply un-understandable.
It’s art that unites a nation in an outpouring of confused shrugging.
This must surely be the only time when we collectively ask the age-old question: ‘What is art?’
And the answer this year looks to me like a choir walking backwards, some ironic greeting card dog holding a sign and a few ‘nice’ pictures which have been painted.
If only it were judged in a Britain’s Got Talent-style open jury. That way the masses, like me, might be let into the secret.