Setting the 'scene'

In 1988, at the PLA building in the Docklands, a group of young students at Goldsmiths College of Art put on a show entitled Freeze. This, as the legend now has it, was the birth place of the 'Yba'. The exhibition, held in a disused building that was currently due for re-development amongst the larger development of Docklands itself, was curated by their fellow student, and later art-superstar and media sensation, Damien Hirst. Some of the artists pulled together for this initial show included Angus Fairhurst, Angela Bulloch, Mat Collishaw, Damien Hirst, Sarah Lucas, Richard and Simon Patterson, Gary Hume and Michael Landy. It is also important to stress at an early stage that 'Yba' group is very fluid in its suggested members, and so often varies from exhibition to exhibition. Freeze had an impact, it seems, because not only were the included artists still students but also because of the very way in which the exhibition itself was packaged. There was aura of professionalism generated by the show's large scale and glossy catalogue, itself including an essay by a respected writer, Ian Jeffrey. Resultantly, it was striking because it was the antithesis of the usual student show. Goldsmith's, as a result largely of this exhibition, has been seen as the birth place of the 'Yba' phenomena. Another element to be factored into this construction was the presence of Goldsmith's tutor Michael Craig-Martin, who encouraged and fostered not only the use of a conceptual visual language, but also the importance of selling the artist. Another point to be considered in relation to the emergence of the 'Yba' was the economic climate that surrounded them, with their work first shown on the cusp of the boom and bust of the late 1980's. The result was not only a glut of empty retail spaces in which to display their work, but also a new generation of collectors who made their money in the halcyon days of the late Thatcher years. One such collector is Charles Saatchi; a figure who, by collecting these young artists, has done more than any other collector in generating and supporting this phenomena. Another key element to the generation of the kudos that surrounds this group of artists is the re-invention of a larger notion of Swinging London itself. This idea recently achieved new currency, and now appears in both the popular and academic press with amazing frequency. For example, Newsweek recently ran a cover article on the new cultural explosion in London, stating:

"....right now, London is a hip compromise between the non-stop newness of Los Angeles and the aspic-preserved beauty of Paris - sharpened to NewYork's edge. In short this is the coolest city on the planet."1

Such a rhetoric is not only present in the popular press, but is also part of the more specialised discourse of the art journal, such as, Art Monthly and Artforum. However, the Newsweek piece also serves to indicate a certain cyclical quality to the representation of this group of artists and the wider context of the city and the subculture they are working in. In 1965 Newsweek ran a similar article heralding the birth of a Swinging London, aiding in the perception of London as a site of cultural vangardism. Though Newsweek may not carry the cultural force that it once did, it is still a worthy indication of the general tide of feelings towards this phenomena.

The wider identity for this new London bohemia also incorporates other cultural elements in which we are currently perceived to be excelling once more. Not only is there the so-called 'Britpop' explosion, with our pop music dominating many of the World's music charts, but we are also one of the major innovating forces in both club culture and fashion. Recent examples of the taste for all things British has been evident in the much lauded instatement of the 'maverick' fashion designers Alexander McQueen and John Galliano in major Paris fashion houses.

The whole concept of the 'Yba' is reinforced and underpinned by the external perceptions of it from abroad. This to some extent, is partly manufactured by the British Council and their sponsorship of some of these exhibitions and artists. However, it is also maintained by a larger discourse that is present in the media. Likewise, Britain's, and more specifically, London's, renaissance, is supported and buoyed upon the presentation of creativity generated through adversity, and as such is a theme that is as crucial to this phenomena as is the concept of British quirkiness.

The British Council, through the promotion and sponsorship of these artists abroad, have not only traded on the reputation of the group as a whole but have also furthered the discourse that surrounds them. Two such exhibitions which deserve greater attention are Brilliant!: New Art From London, which was held at the Walker Art Centre in Minneapolis in 1995, and General Release which took place at the Venice Biennale, also in 1995.

Brilliant! was staged 30 years after a similar exhibition, entitled The New London scene, which showcased the newly emerging scene in 1960's London. The organiser of Brilliant!, Richard Flood, has stated that this earlier exhibition has acted purely as an impetus to hold this exhibition, and had no further influence on it. And this lack of theme is where this exhibition has been perceived to fail. The exhibition was almost universally criticised for several key reasons. Firstly, the exhibition was seen to have failed due to the fact that it lacked cohesion, and therefore, more importantly, meaning. For example, Matthew Collings states in his review of the show:

"Nobody can quite sum up what they stand for. The advance publicity of "Brilliant!" presents them as cheeky cockneys and punk rockers oppressed by the Thatcher junta, dodging IRA bombs, living in squats, and making rough and ready art that screams with rage and isn't intended for pristine white gallery space, but for rough and ready warehouse spaces in London's cockney East End. In reality of course they are highly sophisticated formalists who desperately, and quite rightly, want to show in pristine white spaces like the Tate Gallery and the Walker Art Centre."2

As we can determine from this opinion there is embedded in the discourse that surrounds these artists a mythology of their participation in a subculture or an underclass which supports and feeds the belief in the 'aggressive' nature of their work. Yet, on the other hand, we have full knowledge of the fact that they are actually astute, business-minded artists, who originally rose to fame through a supposedly entrepreneurial piece of self-promotion. The result, then, is that they fall between the two poles of the public perception of their work. Flood, however, in the selection and promotion of this exhibition actively courted their 'outsider' status alongside what was quintessentially a parodic take on British culture. As Lynn MacRitchie illustrates:

"Flood's liking for London and his desire to reflect the gritty side of its urban life both in the work selected and, more controversially, in the exhibition catalogue, set up a certain edge of expectation - that the work would be shocking, outrageous, the exhibition a kind of wild party - which the show itself did not deliver."3

However, rather than the expected riot of bad taste and outrageous art, the guests at the opening night were treated to fancy-dress British 'bobbies' serving drinks, a darts match, and a 'Brit' look-a-like contest. It would appear that Flood, rather than providing a survey show of contemporary art for London, had instead bought wholesale into the wrappings and the myth of the phenomena, rather than the art.

Much was also made of the outrage surrounding the exhibition catalogue for this exhibition (Figure 1). A decision was made to use a photograph of the devastation of an IRA bomb at the Baltic Exchange in the city of London, 13th April 1992. The catalogue was also designed to be fitting within the whole parodic subtext of the promotion of this show. As Lynn MacRitchie has pointed out:

It is preserved only in a tabloid-style quasi-fanzine with a look and language long since vanished from the London club scene whose ambience it was presumably intended to capture.4

As this indicates, the organisers have tried to attach themselves to the subculture that is felt to surround this group and their work. But, the organisers also wanted to resurrect some of the outrage and 'danger' that is suggested in the mythology embedded in the 'Yba'; hence the sensationalist juxtaposition of the cover image. As Ann Gallagher, the exhibition officer at the British Council in London and who assisted in the putting together of General Release, has pointed out:

The photograph was supplied by Mat Collishaw - the artists were asked to supply an image that meant something to them, but didn't dream that it would be used for the cover, not with "Brilliant" written across it.5

As a result of this bad coverage in the media the British council have been at great pains to distance themselves from this exhibition. Ann Gallagher not only stated that it was "a bit of a sore point" with them, but also stressed that, "Brilliant! received grants from us, but beyond that we had nothing to do with it"6. However, Gallagher's insistence that the use of the bomb photograph for promotion was not known to the British Council until too late rings hollow when considering the fact it was used in promotional material as early as the Autumn of 1995⁷. Brilliant! also had a brief and under-publicised tour (Figure 2) which promoted the artists in a very similar way: Houston Contemporary Arts Museum even included a season of films which they felt reflected British culture today. Ann Gallagher stated, "the tour was very low key.....only one or two artists attended - the curator didn't even turn up for the shows....we {the British Council} didn't go."8 It would appear, then, that the initial opening, and the promotion of the show went beyond that which was felt to be acceptable for British Council to sanction. It was also clear that as much as she felt that the Brilliant! exhibition had failed, Ann Gallagher felt the General Release exhibition had succeeded. General Release was not only sponsored by the British council, but also selected by them. This exhibition was held in place of the usual Aperto at the Venice Biennale which was cancelled in 1995. This show had a similar selection of artists, but approached the promotion of artists in a very different way. The supporting catalogue gave considerable space over to various chronologies of both social and artistic events. The aim was, accordingly to Ann Gallagher, "to relate it {the art} to it's historical background through the chronology"9. The intention, then, was clearly to contextualise the work of the art, and the artist's in turn, and so provide more depth to this survey exhibition. The curators of the show also gave over space in the catalogue to 'artist's pages', and so give the non-attending reader a sense of the show. However, as shall be shown, such contextualisation offers the perfect breeding ground for myths and the conflation of the models by which this group has been assessed.

Subculture and the avant-garde

It is important that we now try and elucidate further the ramifications of the situation that has now occurred. In short, what we have is a group of young artists who, due their own foresight and entrepreneurial powers have risen in fame and celebrity, alongside a renaissance of the swinging London, to achieve near mythical status. However, this group are also reviled as being anti-establishment, and traders in the abject and distasteful, and resultantly there is a schism in the way that they are reported in the popular and academic press. Furthermore, it is curious how such a troubling group of artists have achieved international commendations through the support of arms of the state such as the British council. How is it, then, that the state can be seen to actively support a group of avant-garde artists who are promoted as denigrating the conservative and the conventional, and celebrating the vulgar and distasteful?

Dick Hebdige writes of a similar phenomena in Subculture, the meaning of Style, and it is interesting to see how his ideas can unlock some the problems that have been outlined above. Though Hebdige's book addresses the ideological importance of style within the subcultures of fashion and music, there are clearly points of crossing when discussing a group of artist who are actively promoted as working within the discourse of a particular subculture. What Hebdige sets out to do, by means of a Barthian model, is expose the latent meanings that lie embedded within the fabric of cultural life. Hence, by examining everyday life Hebdige, like Barthes, sought to excavate and explain the ideological motivations for various signs or 'myths' that can be found in ordinary events and objects.10 By examining the reaction to various strains of British subcultures, such as punks, mods and teddy boys, Hebdige comes to several conclusions about ideological importance of subcultures. For example, he states:

"Similarly, spectacular subcultures express forbidden contents (consciousness of class, consciousness of difference) in forbidden forms (transgressions of sartorial and behaviour codes, lawbreaking, etc.). They are often profane articulations, and they are often and significantly defined as 'unnatural'."11

This spectacular nature is also an inherent part of many avant-garde art groups, including the 'Yba'. Their work is also marked by forms of transgression, boundary breaking and taboo-testing. Further similarities between Hebdige's discussion of subcultures and the 'Yba' are also apparent in his tracing of the hysteria in the press. Hebdige highlights what he sees as an ambivalence in the reporting of subcultures, with a fluctuation between interest and outrage. More importantly, he also goes some way to explain how subcultures are appropriated into a larger culture, and so are diffused of any ideological power or threat. Hebdige states:

"It is through this continual process of recuperation that the fractured order is repaired and the subculture incorporated as a diverting spectacle within the dominant mythology from which it in part emanates: as 'folk devil', as Other, as Enemy."12

Thus, once the troubling subculture is rendered as 'other' it can be paraded as something exotic and foolish, with the potential threat to the ideological equilibrium negated; reduced to nothing more than a tabloid sensation. Another alternative Hebdige suggests is that of the commodification of the subculture. That is to say, the dominant culture or ideology consumes the style of the subculture and re-enacts it within its own forms. For example, the dominant culture would appropriate parts of the punk fashion, such as bondage trousers, and sell them as part of their own fashion. Through such means the dominant culture not only disempowers the transgressional elements of the subculture, so removing any ideological impact; furthermore it also reduces rebellion to nothing more than a economic factor within a larger capitalist discourse. This idea of the commodifying of subcultures has also been addressed by Tom Crow, who looked more specifically at the marketability of the avant-garde. Of the avant-garde Crow states:

"Their improvised forms are usually first made saleable by the artisan level entrepreneurs who spring up in and around any active subculture. Through their efforts, a wider circle of consumers gains access to an alluring subcultural pose, but in a more detached and shallow form, as the elements of the original style are removed from the context of subtle ritual that had first informed them."13

Therefore, it can be determined that the avant-garde are easily consumed by a larger art market, and in turn the kudos generated around the avant-garde serves to feed the fashion of buying such work. Crow continues by explaining how more radical members of the avant-garde who are adverse to such recognition are pushed to the fringes and so in time will serve to provide a new commodity to sell or promote.

When re-examining the way in which the artists have been treated in the catalogues for both Brilliant! and General Release, many themes similar to those raised by Hebdige emerge. The interest of this group of artists in the transgressional is immediately signified by the mocking irony of the cover of the Brilliant! catalogue, and is constantly being reinforced through-out the catalogue. For example, much of the writings included in this catalogue address the artists as being part of some kind of rebellious force located in 90's London. One such allusion is made by Neville Wakefield in his essay "Pretty Vacancy". In this essay Wakefield not only aligns the 'Yba' to the punks of the late 1970's, but also to the Situationist movement14. However, the notion of any similarity between the hyper-political nature of Situationism and the comparative political apathy of the new generation of British artists is nothing but misguided.

Visually, this projection of a subversive content continues with many of the included images. For example, on the Damien Hirst artist page the image of Hirst grinning next to a waxy decapitated head, With Dead Head 1991(Figure 4), is included. It is apparent, then, that the curators were actively portraying these artists as dangerous or subversive; much of Hirst's output, however, such as the 'spot' painting or the 'swirl' paintings, are more innocuous. However, for all of the catalogue's posturing and mock-shock, the curators clearly fought shy of including anything too controversial to be shown in the exhibition. They did not include any of Hirst's vitrines of embalmed animals such as Away from the flock 1994 (Figure 3), or any of the Chapman Brother's sexualised mannequins, such as Fuck face twin 1995 (Figure 5). Instead, Jake and Dinos Chapman were represented by works such as the comparatively tame Ubermensch 1995, sculpture which comprises of a facsimile of Stephen Hawking in his motorised wheelchair atop of a craggy outcrop.

General Release, on the other hand, employs more subtle signification. The choice of exhibited works was a rather limited 15 pieces of a more gentle nature than the Brilliant! show, excepting the mutilated bodies of Chapman Brother's Goya inspired Great deeds against the dead 1994 (Figure 6). However, the catalogue again places great importance on the culture that surrounds the output of this selection of artists. Almost half of the catalogue is given over to chronologies that chart both artistic and 'social' events that have occurred since 1988. Hence, the reader is informed not only of when the artists exhibited and when, but also what other artists were exhibiting, that Inspector Morse first appeared on Channel Four in 1990, and that Robert Maxwell died in November 1991. It is illuminating that, due to the self-reflexive nature of the current climate that surrounds this group, this catalogue not only serves to generate a setting for this 'group' to exist in and react against, but also, in time, will add to the snowballing mythology that already coats our understanding of them. It is also interesting to note that Ann Gallagher informed me that next year,

"a large survey show is planned at the Australian Museum of Contemporary Art, Sydney that includes a catalogue that charts the reception to date of this new art."15

Surely, the idea of the 'scene' being utilised here, or even the reaction to this 'scene', is of as much or of more interest to the curators of the new shows than the art being shown. Such a trend is clearly set to be continued.

It is evident when looking at these catalogues that the 'Yba's' are celebrated as being representative of a new art, or even, as a result of the significance being paid to the fact that they are the product of a specific time and place, as new subculture, that is challenging to the mores of the dominant culture. These artists and the 'scene' that surrounds them, are addressed in a way that not only heightens the hysteria that surrounds them, but also serves to diffuse the power that they have. That is to say, by portraying these artists by means of the codes of the myth that has been generated around them the perceived threat that they embody is dissipated and controlled. After all how much of a threat can they be if they are accepted and supported by the likes of the Walker Art centre and the British Council? However, this matter is somewhat complicated when one considers the overtly constructed nature of this identity, which is divorced from Barthes notion of a more covert ideological signification, and Hebdige's idea of 'recuperation'. It is possible, I feel, that although the mechanisms and language being employed in this mythologising are of a more conscious nature, they still mask the ideological machinations of a more dominant culture. It is also interesting to note that John Roberts has frequently drawn on the idea of these artists not only working within a larger culture, but making themselves and their subculture part of the more dominant common culture. For example, he states

"Hence the 'art of the moment' feels itself part of a common popular culture not because it shares any equivalent status with the products of that culture, because artists work within the boundaries of that culture and make no hierarchical distinction between its pleasures and the pleasures to be had from art."16

So, then, by denying any difference between the larger popular culture that they are referencing and the work that they are producing these artist are placing themselves and their work within a larger discourse; one where the lines between subculture and culture are starting to blur. So, then, if the climate exists for these artists to attempt to breakdown the boundaries of what amounts to high art or low art, or the distasteful or the acceptable, it can be understood that governmental bodies such as the British Council are also operating within a similar environment. As has already been highlighted, if an ideological force such as the British Council seeks to embrace an art which is perceived as morally dubious any threat is quickly dissipated by the simple fact that once such a body has condoned any form of art it sees as dangerous it is rendered powerless. It would appear, then, that the same shifting cultural mores which have allowed the generation of a set of mythological models surrounding this group have not only created the space for such a radical visual language in the first place, but also has produced the tools by which they are ideologically disenfranchised.

Conclusion

What has hopefully become evident in this essay is that there are distinct models or approaches when exhibiting or discussing this group. Again and again excess stress is placed on the more subversive pieces of work at the expense of other, more conventional pieces. Further to this, the importance of the abject qualities of their work is underwritten by the perceived subculture that they are promoted as working within. The fact that there is a controversial quality to much of their work is, however, undeniable. What is illuminating, though, is the ways in which support from the most unlikely of sources, such as the British Council, has gone someway to defuse any radical impact that they may have within an exhibition environment.

As has been indicated, the trend of presenting these artists contextualised through the cultural climate, or more accurately, the constructed perception of a new 'London bohemia', is set to continue. It is interesting to ponder, though, the idea put forward by Patricia Bickers that there is backlash waiting to happen. As she asks: "How much longer can artists, most of them now in their thirties, be supposed to conform to this essentially rebellious adolescent role?"17 It must surely, then, only be a matter of time before the ideological threat of this group passes, and they shall be dismissed as yet another tired fad. It is indicative that the Chapman Brothers, who are clearly symbolic of the subversive stance that this group as a whole are felt to hold, have recently been dismissed as being nothing but the "art equivalent of Bros., everyone's favourite pop darlings for a brief moment in the mid 80's, now totally forgotten.".18 However, if their demise actually is in sight, no one seems to have told the galleries; a new exhibition of 'Yba' artists, Life/Live, opened in Paris in November.

Previously published in 'ValÖr', Uppsala. Sweden.

©Text remains with the author