Days Like These is only the second Tate Triennial Exhibition of Contemporary British Art, so the reader may be forgiven for not being altogether familiar with the set-up or its purpose. It’s intended as a kind of alternative or extension to the Turner Prize, offering a representative cross-section of contemporary art practice in the British Isles. This particular show (which runs at Tate Britain until 26 May) features the work of 23 reasonably diverse artists, and reveals – and I quote the press release – ‘the breadth of thoughtfulness, humour, subtlety and complexity in contemporary British art’. Oh, that it did.
The artists seem to have been selected almost at random, provided they fit readily into what has become the new orthodoxy. Once more the octogenarian and Tate favourite Richard Hamilton is wheeled out to demonstrate his impeccable lineage from Duchamp, and thus his unquestioned status as godfather to the present generation of advance-guarders. (For Duchamp is their justification and their comfort.) This gives the Tate the chance to headline Hamilton’s stunning replica of Duchamp’s ‘Large Glass’, as well as some of his own more recent work. Then there’s a handful of middle-generation stalwarts like Cornelia Parker, Peter Doig and Rachel Whiteread, and a scattering of the emerging and hopeful. It’s a strange brew.
One of the first exhibits to grab the eye, after the disappointment of Cornelia Parker’s string-vest shroud for ‘Rodin’s Kiss’, is the floor installation of Jim Lambie, entitled ‘Zobop’. This wild tesselated pattern is made by sticking down multicoloured vinyl tape in evolving geometric shapes. It owes everything to 1960s Op art, but brings a welcome fairground feel to the show, which is enhanced only by Lambie’s ‘Psychedelic Soul Stick no 38’, left leaning nonchalantly in a corner.
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