The Turner Contemporary: Are We Philistine?

A 20-minute drive from our home on the Kent coast lies the famed English seaside resort of Margate, once one of the country’s premier coastal destinations and with a reputation somewhat akin to Blackpool and Great Yarmouth.

Its heyday as a holiday hotspot has long since passed, and for a couple of decades around the end of the last century, Margate became very run down and a pale shadow of its former self. More recently there have been attempts to restore Margate’s pride, some of which have achieved their objective: Dreamland is back up and running as a theme park (well, it was, pre-COVID), the old town near the harbour is a relatively attractive cultural quarter, and the number of decent restaurants has multiplied.

A significant point in its recovery was the construction of the Turner Contemporary Art Gallery on the waterfront, bringing its own brand of culture to the Isle of Thanet. It’s true to say that Michaela and I share a rather disdainful view of contemporary, or modern, art – due mainly to those stories which we’ve all read, of “art” such as a piece called “Portrait Of Self As A Waste Bin”….and it’s a waste bin. Or paint thrown at a canvas where we supposed to admire the multi coloured splashed outcome.

But you can’t really have an opinion on these things unless you see them for yourself, so three or so years ago we decided to do precisely that. Now, you can call us philistine if you like, but nothing is ever going to convince me that anything we saw that day is anything to do with either art or talent. This is what we saw, we leave you to your own opinions:-

• A collection of slides depicting the same subject photographed in over 300 different locations throughout the world. And what was that subject? It was, I kid you not, darkness. Yes, 300+ slides of complete blank blackness, and nothing else. I mean, seriously??
• A collection of photographs by an apparently renowned French photographer, whose trademark is minimalism. In other words, the subject photographed is the only thing in the shot: no discernible background, no surface, nothing. So, for instance, a shot of a flower is, just that. Likewise with a spoon. Or a pencil. And, just to show how clever “minimalism” is, the last picture in the collection has no photograph at all, it was, simply, an empty frame. Who’s kidding who here?
• A collection of selfies, in which a girl on an aeroplane has taken her mobile phone and a paper napkin into the aeroplane toilet. Each photo has her in a different pose, whereby in each she has made a different pretend hat out of the napkin. Art? Really?
• The main display was an entire room full of bookshelves, looking like any room in any library. The “art” here, apparently, was the method by which the books had been sorted into order, on the shelves. Which, to my mind, makes every librarian a potential Turner Prize winner.

Admittedly, there was one moment when we went “wow” at what we saw. It was when we looked out of the window. 

At the risk of the philistine label, or maybe incurring the wrath of some, neither of us can see for an instant why any of this precocious rubbish is “art”. Art, surely, is the ability to create something that few others would be able to, from a gift one has been blessed with. A collection of photos of darkness? I don’t think so!

We left with our pre-conceived ideas about contemporary art significantly strengthened, despite our willingness to be open minded (we thought). The only reason we would recommend a visit is if you would want to do the same.

It’s free to enter, by the way. And only just worth the outlay.