give and take
Upon my first viewing of this show, there was a crowd of people milling around the gallery. Many were holding brown paper bags which contained newly acquired art works. There was a feeling of urgency-latecomers realising that something was going for free, scrambling around to salvage the remains. The walls had the appearance of a sell-out show, with a wave of red dots creeping across the room. Martin Smith had usurped the usual model of an art opening where people go to look and transformed it into something where people go to get. His photographs might be categorized as 'urban picturesque': quiet depictions of garage doors, shop fronts or abandoned buildings. Viewers were at liberty to remove any work of choice and replace it with a red dot. This left only the typed title and a small red dot bearing the initials of the new owner upon the walls. The titles were fragments from songs, conversations and books, things like: 'A pink carnation and a pick-up truck', 'That's the spirit of God in you Stuey', or 'I sometimes find it hard to hide the fact that I am bored'-they had the effect of something heard and recognised, but not easily located.
The new artwork that emerged became defined by its absence and proffered questions about the commercial prospects of art: is the possibility of a sell-out show so slim that it is sufficiently gratifying to simulate it? Has it become satisfying enough to know that at the very least, artists can give work away? lt was not Smith's intention to expose the grasping nature of our collective psyche. Culturally, his purpose might be likened to one which precedes Western