Dead and dying flowers

I have been reading in Charles Harrison’s ‘Art in Theory 1900 – 2000’ an extract from Joseph Kosuth’s ‘Art after Philosophy’. What he says about painting and its condition underlines some of the problems that I have when I pick up a paintbrush. Juxtaposed with this are the references to the ‘Saatchi programme’ commented upon in Emily speed’s blog. She refers to A.A Gill’s review of last night’s programme. I have always felt a little guilty at not really being in tune with the imperial status of Duchamp, and to read such a tirade is a little reassuring. The trouble with things that ‘ring true’, however, is that they tend to appeal to prejudice. I wonder if it is possible to be to the political left, whilst simultaneously being guilty of the worst formalist crimes as described by Kosuth. Also I have been painting. At present I have to confess to the crimes; I have no choice but to commit them. I can, (I think), see Kosuth’s point, but I cannot feel it. There is too a feeling of impending disaster. I tend to rush around the a-n living room like an excited puppy dog, only to end up in the corner having wet the carpet. So onward and downward!