'Stuckism': Emancipating art or stifling creativity?

My first encounter with 'Stuckism' was through a friend, a college art student, whose teacher was a leading proponent. Seeing a few paintings, they appeared to be very down-to-earth and, needless to say, caught my interest. Learning of my interest, the college lecturer kindly sent to me a complimentary copy of Punk Victorian, delivered by my friend.

The art lecturer was in fact Paul Harvey - founder of the Newcastle Stuckists, the self-titled ‘safe driver’, and the book he enclosed was a watershed revelation in my art knowledge. Flicking through the printed artworks, from their controversial 2004 Liverpool Biennial exhibition, a curiosity arose. Each artist seemed to have their own personal style and idiosyncrasies. So, what made them collectively ‘Stuckist’? What is Stuckism’s linchpin?

According to the Stuckist narrative, the British art world of the 1990s became dominated by the partnership of advertising mogul, Charles Saatchi (originator of the ‘Labour Isn’t Working’ poster, winning Thatcher her 1979 victory) and Tate Director, Nicholas Serota. By entering the exhibitions of unknown artists, Saatchi bought out entire collections at mind-boggling prices, effectively monopolising British art overnight. He sponsored his own art movement, BritArt, opened his own gallery full of ‘novelty art’, and transformed the Turner Prize into a ‘Would Saatchi Like It?’ competition.

Founded in 1999 by Charles Thomson and Billy Childish, Stuckism must be understood as a reaction to Saatchi-centred conceptualism.

Stuckists have organised annual protests against the Turner Prize, demonstrated against perceived corruption in the art world, and organised their own exhibitions to rival Saatchi’s.

Perhaps there is even a personal aspect. Both Thomson and Childish’s ex-girlfriends – Stella Vine and Tracey Emin respectively – were made celebrities by having their exhibitions bought by Saatchi. Emin’s remark that Childish’s art was ‘stuck’ is even the source of Stuckism’s name and Saatchi’s buyout of Vine prompted Thomson to report him to the OFT, which was not upheld.

At its best, Stuckism is a legion of intrepid artists indignant at Saatchi’s conceptualist cronyism, or, at its worst, a moribund troupe of alternative painters lamenting dead art movements. Whatever one makes of them, they certainly raise some important questions: Should art be for a wealthy elite? Should art be so commercialised? And most importantly, should art be so ambivalent at the expense of ‘authenticity’?