OPEN MANIFESTO

Extract from How To Be An Artist
2000

Ten seconds only last as long as they do and I was soon on to the bridge with Beauly Firth to the west and the Moray Firth to the east, all thoughts of global media conspiracy lifted. The Land Rover swung on to the Black Isle. No more than ten minutes later and I was on another spectacular bridge crossing the Cromarty Firth back on to the mainland. For the next 15 miles the A9 runs along the edge of Cromarty Firth. What’s great about this stretch of road was that you could play count the oil rigs. Oil rigs get dragged from out where they do their drilling for black gold on the watery wastes of the North Sea into the almost landlocked, calm waters of Cromarty Firth to be refitted. Or at least I guess they are being refitted, maybe they just go there for R&R. Anyway you could usually count at least a dozen of these monsters scattered up this Firth between Alness Bay and Nigg Bay. Usually when I drove up this stretch of the A9, I counted the oil rigs hoping to beat my 1983 record when I spotted 19 of the monsters.

But on this morning the sight of the rigs did not fill me with awe. I wasn’t even bothering to count them. On the dashboard of the Land Rover I keep a small lump of Blu-Tack. You never know when you might need a bit of Blu-Tack and the dashboard seems as good a place as any to keep it. That’s the justification, the real reason I had it there was to play with. Some had rosary beads, some picked their noses, others smoked, I had my small lump of Blu-Tack. Between the thumb and forefinger of my left hand I incessantly roll it round, trying to create the perfect sphere. In circumference it’s no bigger than a five-pence piece but on that Thursday morning the 15 oil rigs resting and recreationing on Cromarty Firth could not compete with my ball of Blu-Tack. This, I think, had more than something to do with the art of Martin Creed. Martin Creed is the artist whose first 15 minutes of fame will be remembered for his ball of waste paper.

So there I was, passing the turn-off for Invergordon, ignoring the oil rigs, looking at my ball of Blu-Tack, wondering how the pubic hair got stuck in it and wondering if Martin Creed had got himself his own ball of Blu-Tack or whether I should send him this one. And I was thinking, ‘Well is that the power of art? Somebody comes along and presents the world with a ball of screwed-up waste paper and I can no longer be impressed by 19 huge oil rigs dragged in from the North Sea.’ I treasure moments like that and you somehow know that the power of that ball of waste paper isn’t just to do with hype for the latest wave of whatever they call it. Something else is going on. It can be these little things that shift the way we see the world. Martin Creed is a prime example of an artist who was only taken to heart in Scotland once he had been lionised in London. They are probably planning a Martin Creed show at Dundee Contemporary Arts as I write this story.

In fact, that has just brought something into focus for me. I’m bored with big art. I’m usually the last to get bored with something. So if I’m bored, most other people must be. Big art just looks old fashioned, past its sell-by date. Hanging about and cluttering up the place, trying to impress you. We need a clear out.

Oh shit, I can feel a new manifesto coming on. I can’t stop myself, here it comes skittering down my trousers. Looks like it’s called ‘The Open Manifesto’. That sounds as good a title for a manifesto as any other. Not least ’cause it has the inclusive ring of the Open University has which fits in with my on-going infatuation with all things Milton Keynesian. The Open Manifesto exists for anybody to add to with their own new doctrines, dogmas or principles. The first rule is that from now on nobody should make art that is any bigger than themselves. The second rule is that people who take photographs should try and resist exhibiting their prints any larger than the standard format you get back from Boots.

If you have any doctrines, dogmas or principles you would like added to The Open Manifesto, please send it to the o.m.@penkiln-burn.com and it will be added to the list. Please state whether you do/don’t want to be credited with your entry. And try to make sure it’s a new, never-been-tried-before one. The Open Manifesto won’t want any old, worn-out dogmas. There is no time limit. Send in whatever quantity you like, history will deal with the quality.

For The Open Manifesto to work, it would be better if you believed in what you are saying. Even if you personally will find it difficult to live by your own rules. No jokes. Keep it as irony free as you can. I know that’s hard in this day and age. This could run and run or fizzle out by next week. I hope it will last at least as long as my lifetime. An ever growing week-by-week, month-by-month, year-by-year manifesto. Always on the move. Up to the moment. Setting 1000 agendas for whatever is to happen next.