Having been a judge of previous open exhibitions I am cautious of the problems of nepotism, so it was my intention from the outset to only invite artists I had never met. Unfortunately few of the ten or so artists I initially put forward responded positively and I ended up having to invite artists that I know. This may have been a good thing in the end. It would seem rather a pity to penalise someone for knowing me by precluding their entry when I have a strong feeling about their work: which I have, of all the artists that I have selected.

The open submission is a different kind of challenge, largely because, without troubling to spare anyone's feelings, a considerable proportion of contemporary painting is so bloody awful and so rarely interesting. It is largely derivative, dishonest, intellectually lazy and either half-arsed or over-earnest. On the whole I feel that comfortable and polite painting deserves its peripheral position in the contemporary art market. So I came to the judging process from rather a cynical perspective but hoping to find artists whose work was in some way playful, self-knowing or subversive. At the very least it had to be thoughtful.

I am rather tired of works of art that, employing familiarity and comfort, lull one into a sense that everything is ok in the world when clearly that is not the case. I don't want art to reassure me but to wake me up, like a bolt of lighting up the arse: to a realisation of the intellectual complacency of my life. I want to be taught to see from a new perspective.

On the whole I felt rather indifferent towards most of the works submitted which were inoffensive in rather a bland way as long as one didn't have to live with them. In a number of pieces however, I found evidence of a subtle wit and I snapped up these works hastily. A few, I have to confess, seduced me by their draughtsmanship alone and one or two were so bad that they were wonderful. I had to have those too.

 

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