It's those artistes again

Maggots, skeletons, fear and death. The Turner is back - as healthy as ever:

The leaves are falling and the nights drawing in. And down at Tate Britain an inflatable doll is engaged in sexual activity with another as the two recline on a lilo. The Turner Prize is back.

Yesterday, the work of the four finalists for the prize, to be announced on Dec 7, went on display by the banks of the Thames. The least shocking aspect of the exhibition was the desire, largely unfulfilled, to shock.

There were maggots issuing from decaying flesh, and apples - real ones - rotting on a bronze tree. There were pots containing dark images of child abuse, and an endlessly replayed film of a man running, but never escaping.

It is all about sex, fear, decay and the inevitability of death. So no change there, then.

Many have given up completely on the Turner, mocking it as a receptacle for all that is silly in British contemporary art. But that did not stop the people at the Tate from extolling the qualities of the work being shown.

The gallery no doubt hopes that the sign advising parents with children under the age of 16 to avoid the exhibition will prove to be an immediate crowd-puller. The blow-up dolls will certainly be a must for schoolboys.
...
Katharine Stout, curator of the exhibition, said: "The work of all the artists is incredibly powerful."

The rotting apples certainly should be, given time.

Hmm, that reminds me. Whatever happened to pictures of poker playing dogs?