Michael Wilson (1) (1951–)

If I were to quibble with this book, I think that its title is a misnomer. If you were to buy it in the hope of a lightening strike understanding of contemporary art, you might be disappointed. Were you to look upon it more as a directory of 175 contemporary artists, with superb photographs of a/some representative piece(s) of their art and some background information, then you would be delighted.

Contemporary art often receives a bad press and, I am sure that, just like at any other time in history, much poor art is currently being produced. This book proves that amongst the rubbish, there are nuggets of pure genius: I would challenge the greatest philistine to glance through this book and not find an artist of interest; and, of course, the artist that you choose as your favourite, may well be the one that I have labelled the biggest charlatan ever to have claimed the title.

The moral of this tale? Perhaps we should stop trying to judge art as good or bad: it is simply art that we like and art that we do not: and that includes the works of Thomas Kinkade, who is give short shrift, by this book, for being too populist.

I am delighted to add this glossy, eminently pleasing tome to my book shelf and have no doubt that, were you to see it there in a few months time, you would find it to be well thumbed.… (altro)