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“Sadly it wasn't meant to be funny”

At the beginning of December rumours spread that Charles Saatchi had launched a TV show to grade aspiring artists. Since the programme was not available outside the UK, nobody in continental Europe didn't know anything concrete, yet everybody knew exactly that this was the ultimate proof of the decay of art.
Spending a few days in London shortly after all four episodes had been broadcast I watched the only one which was still online and sifted through the media response.

The reason for the uproar is the apprehension that follow-ups are threatening, due to the collective desire to watch those in the know pronouncing judgement about something unknown, that is contemporary art. Although the latter has become an issue of general concern during the last decades, evaluation criteria remain arcane – at least to those who believe in their existence. Hence the demand does exist.

His Majesty's request
Saatchi's national and international reputation differ considerably. While outside the UK his name is mainly linked with a short-lived 1990s hype, inside he enjoys the status of an educational provider. An “artoholic” in his own terms, a “shopaholic” in Damien Hirst's, according to a former wife “a man of crushes – cars, clothes, artists”, the collector and gallery owner has influenced cultural politics in the UK significantly. Even an opponent declared:
“Everything I knew about the art of late 20th and early 21st century I know from Saatchi. He was the revelation.”
A BBC moderator was hardly less explicit:
“What we, the mainstream, know about modern art, is largely what Saatchi has told us.”

Fresh and thrilling. What art should be like.
What motivated the omnipresent absentee, who doesn't even attend his own openings, to stage a TV show - or rather no-show? After all he was never to be seen by cameras, although he met with jury and artists regularly. Perhaps he wants to regain the influence he lost after the art market carousel had centrifuged the YBA from the centre to the periphery of public attention. Once the most important single figure in British contemporary art, Saatchi slipped from 14 to 72 in last year's 'ArtReview Power 100'. More likely he just wanted to update his collection, for he seems to prefer products with ultra-short shelf life:
“I like to keep my collecting fresh. ...I am looking forward to the prospect of finding undiscovered British talent. Anyone with a fresh creative approach should enter."

How things were going
The four parts of 'School of Saatchi, broadcast once a week from 23 November to 14 December 09, are part of a BBC series titled 'Modern Beauty', which deals with concepts of beauty in contemporary art.
Press releases by the Saatchi Gallery and the BBC insist on equal chances of all applying artists, provided they were 18 years or over, UK residents and not currently represented by a gallery. Submissions were had been sent from February to March 09 via a special website.
Yet it remains not quite clear how this website was made public, since a blogger later asked: “Where did they get these people from?” And another replied: “They must have advertised in art schools, and I guess on the Saatchi site. I don't remember seeing it in any art magazines or art sites.”
Among all entries an electoral committee of experts shortlisted twelve persons “worthy of being seen by Charles Saatchi” who were then showing their work in a group exhibition. Again six of them were selected by a second panel, which served as Saatchi's advisors: Kate Bush, Head of Art Galleries at the London Barbican Center, art collector Frank Cohen, critic Matthew Collings and Tracey Emin.
The remaining six applicants, four men and two women between 19 and 33, “who are felt to have the edge, raw talent and creativity to be developed and refined”, were admitted to an especially-created art school to work for ten weeks under the tutelage of “key figures from the art world, with the aim of further exposing the potential of each student.”
The first part of the series summarized the whole procedure up to this point. The following three episodes were showing the candidates performing tasks “designed to inspire and develop their talents”, like the production of large-scale pieces for a seaside resort. Here the main challenge was the fact that the result had to be accepted by local residents, who were called upon to share their opinion with the artists.
After this confrontation with the present, the next step consisted in that with the past. That is to say the third episode documented the endeavour to create something to stand up to the Old Masters in a private collection. According to Saatchi's thesis that great art reinterprets traditions for a today's audiences, the owners of Sudeley Castle had agreed to have objects of value replaced with whatever the hopefuls would come up with.
The final commission consisted in creating work for and the organization of a group exhibition at Saatchi's London gallery. Here the panel gathered a last time to evaluate the solutions and to pick up the phone to listen to their Master's voice pronouncing the winner. After all: “Nobody can give you advice after you've been collecting for a while. If you don't enjoy making your own decisions, you're never going to be much of a collector anyway”
The elect is rewarded with free studio space for three years and the participation in Saatchi's current St Petersburg show, titled “Newspeak: British Art Now”. A second member of the group was asked to create a piece to go on display at the exhibition when it comes to London 2010.
As you already have noticed, I have not and still won't give any details about the participants or their work since this would mean to join the game. Rather it is the general outlay of the show which is relevant in the long run.

Opaque transparency
Famous for quotes like “I primarily buy art in order to show it off”, this time Saatchi aims at a rather pedagogical goal.
"'School Of Saatchi' offers a fascinating insight behind the scenes and into the minds that create the work, what inspires it and what it means. For others, it will be a journey of discovery as the series demystifies the subject and makes the art more accessible."
Well, the thing about the “fascinating insight behind the scenes” is a generous description, since the audience's insight was restricted to four one-hour programmes, carefully selected from a process,which had been taking more than eleven months and initially had involved thousands of participants. However the programme did offer “insights into the minds that create the work”, in as much the increasing pressure to excel became observable, along with the resulting rivalry among the now competitors.
Another “fascinating insight” into artists' working conditions resulted from the fact that the decision-making process, allegedly conducted by six professionals, turned out to be determined by a single one: the man with the money.

The day following the first episode, 'The Guardian' concurred with the series' enlightening ambitions above:
“'School of Saatchi' appears to be a genuine attempt to separate wheat from chaff and leave the viewer with a real sense of why something modern might be worthy of being considered art.”
The “genuine attempt to separate” would sometimes proceed quite quickly, when candidates were dismissed with explanations like “you are just too weird” or “you sound too much like a madman”. Having just emerged from the interrogation, an early drop-out complained: "It was like trying to explain your work to your grandmother." He was alluding to the panel's favourite question: “Why is it art?” The interviewee's reluctance to elaborate raises the issue of verbal communication within the visual arts. Art is communication all right. But communication with whom? Does the extension of the boundaries of notions of art include extending its audience? If so, translating the visual in words in order to “explain it to your grandmother”, i.e. addressing the outside world, will be part of the work. Since then the audience functions as an integral part of the production of art, a TV show will become an effective means of gaining artistic material, in as much it succeeds in drawing the outside world in.
On the other hand communication with just a chosen minority by means of exclusion may also be part of the creative act. Could this be the true meaning of Beuys' term 'social sculpture'? Because just as sculptured work develops by removing material, the community focused by the artist develops by means of distinction. If this is the case, a format like reality TV again seems to be an apt tool, since it repels about as much spectators and colleagues as it attracts.

The Originality of the Avant-Garde and Other Modernist Myths (R. Krauss)
Among the first exhibition's participants, featured in the first episode, one person had been presenting two balls of crumpled-up paper, one being his email to Martin Creed and the other one Creed's answer. When the panellists put the customary question why this was supposed to be art, the candidate outlined the balls as materialization of a failed attempt to “connect with an artist”. He was dismissed. Another failed attempt to connect with an artist - on the side of the “experts.” Surprisingly enough nobody mentioned Creed's 'Work No.88: A sheet of A4 paper crumpled into a ball'. At that they must have known the piece, since Creed belonged to the “most innovative figures in contemporary art” who had been appointed consultants for the ten week tutorial.
Of course the mystery on how one paper ball makes its creator a “key figure”, whereas two paper balls make their creator being kicked out, cannot be discussed on a general level. But the question if something has to be unique to be of value, was re-emerging throughout the public reactions. If art appears new does not depend on originality but visibility. But how this comes about is yet another subject.

Pre-Post-Modernist states of mind
With regard to viewers' reactions the usual rants were floating about, all pretty much on the level of
“The so called art critics didn't have a clue about art, I mean real art as in drawing and painting, not rubbish modern art where it has no meaning or skill involved.”
The trailer featured Emin labelling one artist's explication “the biggest load of bullshit I've ever heard in my life” - which is saying something. Large parts of the audience apparently welcomed this long-awaited discovery that the emperor was naked. Too bad that the artists commentary had not been iterated as frequently as Emin's reaction. Having arranged tilted blue folding chairs in a circle, he muttered something far more concise than much of the wordy but clumsy ambient noise which was accompanying the more successful pieces.
Equally much-cited was Collings' observation "you definitely seem like a real artist", revealing thus an amazingly accurate notion of what an artist should be like.
Mr Dowling, critic of 'The Guardian', was similarly resolute by stating: “Some of the art was undoubtedly good”. Whatever terms you employ in dealing with art - “undoubtedly” is undoubtedly totally amiss. Like Adorno had already claimed: in contemporary art the only thing given is that nothing is given. Hence any judgement is legitimate and dubious at the same time. And definitely not “undoubtedly”.

Umm ahh well.
But Mr Dowling may be forgiven because he has to be credited for putting central questions, like:
“Why should artists have to explain themselves? Does good work become less good when its creator fails to present a convincing case?”
Not really. The quality of the piece does not depend on the artist's articulateness. But dealing with art in a format like this provides the possibility to figure out if there is an underlying concept and if so, which one. And whoever insists on “my work talks without words”, should choose one's media carefully and avoid applying for a TV show, which by definition feeds on speech. In this respect blogging viewers were unanimously disappointed:
“Most of the artists were so inarticulate.1 If your work is lacking in technical skill, you need a really strong concept and the articulacy to back it up.”
Benevolent spectators were struggling for apprehension – and failed.
“The art appeared to have conceptual meanings, yet there was never any evidence of this from the artists. I would have liked to have heard early ideas from them to understand their final pieces.“
In fact only one single question was easy to be answered:
“Why would talented young artists with bright futures submit themselves to such a denting ordeal?”
Here the reply is obvious: In order to prepare for their bright futures which won't be too bright if they don't get used to denting ordeals asap.
The necessity to work under conditions they will encounter anyway also explains a commentator's surprise regarding the conditions of participation, which read: “Artists must submit a photograph of themselves”. She wonders:
“Why would they need to see a photo of how you looked to judge your talent as an artist? I know, because they want to make sure you look good on television.”
Of course. And a good thing, too, for their looks will determine their status as long as they are not yet really really successful. From then on they look automatically good – no matter how they look. But if not, they better get used to trying hard to look good.

Distribution Battles The only problem with celebrities and viewing figures is the fact that they prevent the spectators from investing time and energy in alternative ways of making and consuming art. Not Saatchi's one-dimensional preferences confine the artistic landscape but rather the amount of attention they get, since this will be lacking elsewhere. Only few commentators focussed on alternatives:
“When I look at certain art websites I can promote myself better without tarnishing my image. It is sad that the older generation like Saatchi do not yet realize that artistic communities are thriving organically. The quality of art has suffered through these moguls wanting to make money. Van Gogh would have been ridiculed on TV, because everyone thought he was nuts.”