I am no great poet, but I have enjoyed writing a ditty or two over the years and have kept them in a file. To rekindle my blog I'm going to publish some of these verses just for fun.
Here's the first. It was started after visiting Tate Modern in London circa 2000 and modified in 2005. I offer it to you.
But Is It Art?
A pile of bricks upon the floor,
I heard someone ask, "But what's it for?"
When is a building merely a structure,
And art marries into architecture?
When does naked become a nude
Or flesh become erotic or rude?
No doubt art should provoke a reaction,
Celebration of creation or derivation?
Art may fall foul of stereotype,
Of pretentiousness and media hype;
I heard it said that it was frue
That all art must have a commercial value?
Sherman and Pollock hung on the wall,
McQueen and Gormley, I've seen them all,
I stood and I looked at the Bourgeois towers,
Can they compare with Van Gogh's flowers?
Will not be remembered when she's dead?
So, is modern art really that bad?
Or should we be asking, ' 'Who's been had?"
Then we had Starling's shed,
Some people say "It does my head
In", but I'm not sure -
Better that, than to bore.
Let's push the bounds beyond again
And avoid another cold refrain
Of all the strains that have gone before
The conflict cries out, "More, more, more!"
Just what is it to understand
The integrity of the artist's plan?
The excitement with contemporary art
Is that no one knows just where it starts …
...or finishes.
© Kevin J Wright - July 2000, revised 2005
