With its second exhibition now in full swing, and visitor numbers exceeding wildest expectations, the Turner Contemporary is looking pretty established already.
Yet a mere year ago, I can remember a great amount of nay-saying amongst the local population. Nobody would come. Thanet just wasn’t the sort of place that would respect a poncy art gallery. All the out-of-towners would push the locals aside.
When I visited the current exhibition, Nothing In The World But Youth, on Saturday, this couldn’t have been further from the truth. The gallery was teaming with an eclectic mix of people. Yes, the DFL (Down From London) hipsters were there, but so, too, were people who you would not spot in a London gallery.
I watched an elderly lady lead her teenage grandchildren to her favourite exhibit, saying, ‘You can see the rest later.’ I sat next to a quiet, fifty-ish man with his young son in the cafe, talking about what they’d seen. A group of adults with learning difficulties savoured the kitsch wonders of The Smiths Karaoke.
The exhibition itself was packed and chaotic, borrowing heavily from the Tate collection, the walls groaning with massed and varied images. It dawned on me halfway through that this was in the spirit of youthfulness, but also in the spirit of inviting a new audience into the intimidating world of the gallery. ‘You won’t like everything,’ it seemed to say, ‘but take a closer look. I bet you’ll find something.’
It made me think that the Turner Contemporary has a great deal in common with the ReAuthoring Project. We also believe that contemporary creative work can be entertaining to everyone, and shouldn’t just be the preserve of a cognoscenti. But we understand, too, that sometimes you have to extend the welcome just that little bit further, to help people overcome their fear that they’ll be made to feel stupid.
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It was lovely to be reminded of this wonderful film, included in the show. The Spectrum was an interactive psychedelic funhouse, installed in Margate’s Dreamland in the 60s. Top fact – it was designed by Damon Albarn’s dad. Swingin’.
Betty Herbert
