| The Beam in Mine Own Eye |
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Dear TEFAF Organisers, Your amazing talent of conferring an unprecedentedly exclusive air of prestige upon a concept that has been flogged to death all over the world never ceases to instil an awed sense of admiration in me, and so, before I continue, I would beg you to allow me to emphasise that it is not my interfering nature from which my comments have sprung but rather, a side effect of a spectacularly insignificant detail which may well completely have eluded you. If only for this reason, I should like to start by commending your fantastically skilled design and organisation of this event, year in and year out. The Dutch tend to be so undemonstrative when conveying their admiration, I'm sure you yourselves must have observed to your chagrin. But it's actually something else I'd like to draw your attention to. I'm sure you're familiar with the irritating habit that people have of imitating blockbuster concepts. I personally know how frustrating this can be: there you are, slaving away for years on end, tinkering and tweaking your concept and its elaboration, only to see someone else make off with the blood, sweat and tear drenched end result, leaving you empty-handed. There's nothing you can say or do, but you know. However, let me lift your spirits and assure you that true success is validated by the endeavours undertaken by the hoi polloi. It's all in the game, you know. Then again, there's also an element of responsibility involved, which is getting me to what I would like to draw your attention to. During my visit to your splendid event, on 7 March last, I couldn't help wondering about the use of strip lighting with the aim of creating an intimate atmosphere. And before you start muttering "Why doesn't he mind his own business", let me assure you that although you'd be absolutely right, that isn't the point I'm trying to make. What I crave, you see, is the off-chance that it may have slipped your mind, you hadn't noticed what the supplier had carted in, or perhaps you had no choice but to settle for whatever was available due to time constraints. In short, wouldn't I simply love to find out whether your strip lighting was part of a much grander scheme. I'm sure I don't need to tell you that strip lighting has a very special place in Dutch culture. We all remember the many years of having our nationally instilled parsimony severely tested by the misapprehension that switching on such lights caused excessive quantities of power to be consumed. And isn't it sad that the homely aspect of our nature found this type of light to be unacceptable - which has caused it to be embraced in the right artistic circles: both budgetarily friendly and rejected by the masses, it doesn't get much better than that. Please bear with me just a little longer, for I've almost got to the point I'm trying to make. You too may have noticed how fashion has a way of taking over the oddest phenomena. It is for this reason that I'm worried that your vanguard position may cause you to be imitated down to the last detail, i.e. including in your use of strip lighting to create an atmosphere of intimacy. I beg of you, my most esteemed colleagues, to set me straight, for I'd hate to have to pass my dotage in a world where the coefficient of homeliness, or rather, quality of life is measured in terms of strip lighting. Let's stop the rot right here, right now. Just imagine the innocent visitor thinking, as well he or she might, "Gosh, that's really clever, I could do that too", and before you know it I get asked at my own gallery why I haven't yet fitted strip lighting. Leaders of the only exhibition in the world which can afford not to think about downsizing, please save me from this nightmare scenario. My fate is in your hands, as indirectly yet visibly as your strip lighting. Please set me free, I beg of you. And yet I have to admit that whoever I talked to, none of them had even noticed. |