Living in South Australia, something I hear every so often is that there is little or no art criticism available – the death of various publications usually held to blame in the wake of covid. That doesn’t mean that criticism isn’t taking place at artist-to-artist level, teacher-to- student level or the odd column in the state newspaper whenever a major exhibition or travelling production comes around, but that public discussion around art in general is all but non-existent. There is certainly art discussion at gallery openings with selected remarks from valued art dignitaries taken on board by the handful of regulars who turn up for a chat and a glass of wine and a ticking-off of art bucket lists as another Biennale comes and goes but again, we are talking about the art afficionados. In the same way, the people who turn up for an artist talk are inevitably family and friends – the same group who, anecdotally, are most likely to buy anything. Connection between Art and the general public seems like a big ask let alone any attempt to understand what artists are doing.

I can’t actually remember the last time Art was a topic of public discussion. The metal pigeon in Rundle Mall caused a few raised eyebrows for a day and the moving of an ornate public fountain donated by the Italian community back in the 70s and subsequently consigned to the backblocks, made the news this week but there wasn’t anything deep and meaningful about either and as for affecting the lives of people – who knows. Metal pigeons and Baroque fountains aside, only the upcoming Rotary Club art fair will even attract any kind of comment and even that will be limited to how a ‘nice’ abstract or landscape will look on the dining room wall. The major exhibitions associated with the recent Arts Festival certainly attracted the curious – if nothing else in the case of the Biennale, to see what an out-of-town curator living in Sydney believes is either relevant or quintessential to the SA public. On the day that I was there I heard little discussion other than people searching the catalogue for information, if not comprehension. The average age of the gallery-goers that day would have been in the senior citizen category [me included]. I did wonder who beyond those with time on their hands, had the time or inclination to attend in the first place.

If art seemingly plays any part in the lives of people, it is at a purely visceral level. The question is though, should we expect anything different? Should we expect art educated voices leading art discussion as part of everyday life? In ancient Greek terms, the depth and breadth of civilisation and society was the measure of its involvement with the arts. The expectation was that everyone should be participating – although I suspect that the regular forum-goers in Athens were no different from the wine and chat set at today’s gallery openings. The bulk of the population probably cared little beyond generalised state pride that another addition had been made to the Acropolis.

When John Berger wrote about the necessity of the art critic in the 50s there were still critics with recognisable names plying their trade. They attempted to interpret art goings-on as both academic discussion about the nature of art and to present a watered-down version in the form of an art publication or book. There are of course, both still going on – as my art library attests – but then again, I am an artist with a profound interest in such matters. What is true also is that just about all of my books and publications come from outside South Australia. Even a cursory examination of book shops reveals that art, photography, architecture and craft occupy half of one shelf, if at all, and that art is limited to yet another compendium of French Impressionists or, as I saw yesterday, a gossipy account of the life of Picasso. Even Picasso has dropped from the public conscious. Asked to name any artist, the general public would struggle, let alone one working now.

If the role of the public critic is to relate works of art to the lives of ‘ordinary’ people, then it follows that either the works themselves are removed from that or that the public are so confused by art that they cannot see the connections at all. So often the artist statement is written in obtuse language, or the subject matter is so personal that in order to relate to it there is necessity to assume the life of the artist. That artists have been thrown into explaining their own art, something actively encouraged at school/college level, suggests that the critic is in fact unnecessary. Unless of course, the artist is so confused about what they are doing that they need an external voice to explain why what they are doing is relevant and to provide a context. If that voice comes down to simply a technical assessment or a subjective effect on himself/herself, is either of any value?

I have met a number of curators of late, mostly young and products of a curatorial course, who are attempting to shape the dialogue. In essence they are the critics even if they present no written assessment. Their choices and themes are of the now and at a time when there is no clear direction in art, other than those making socio-political statements which can be reduced to sound bites, they may be the only voices to which to listen. The general-purpose newspaper critic has a place, although description allied to a personal opinion is of little value. The assessment that we are lucky to have a Biennale at all, given that South Australia rarely rates a mention in the national press other than for losing football teams, is part of what may still be called a cultural cringe. ‘Rea’l artists live in Melbourne or Sydney. Promoting locally made products in any arts field is a necessity and whether that is down to critics, radio hosts or the press, there is little being said or heard other than on an artist-to-artist level. Surely, we can do better. Or is even that question irrelevant when mind-numbing screen-time experience swamps all others?