Art Monitor: Jay Walking into the White Cube
Opening night: is there anything more exciting? Red carpets and blue blood, gold statues for the silver screen; crowds jostling through Leicester Square to catch a glimpse of Keira Knightley or Jude Law, a Cruise or a Cruz, or any one of those other famous people. Aye, 'tis indeed the stuff that dreams are made of.
But an art gallery? 'Shhh... do you mind? I'm trying to listen to the Caravaggio.' 'Oh...sorry.' Trailing around in silence, pretending to look pensive. A scratch of the chin. The occasional whisper: 'very clever' or, perhaps, 'very interesting'.
Well, not any more pal. Boom! Art: the Premier, all over The London Paper. Blame Warhol, if blame is what you're after, but all credit to Jay Jopling. Art is now fun and cool and famous people like it, and it's all thanks to the impeccably tailored perma-tanned old Etonian.
Your correspondent recently snuck into the White Cube in Mason's Yard to attend the opening night of the new exhibition by Marc Quinn, YBA and general art bad-ass. The place was filled to the gunnels (whatever they are) with be-spectacled pseudo-academics, Estonian models, fashionistas in Raf Simons hi-tops, and (what we all crave these days) celebrities. Oh yeah! And Jopling was amongst them all, one minute looking interested in Will Self's interminable drivel, the next, comparing cuffs with David Furnish. Then, like a flash, he was off to chat to David Walliams about his shoes (Church's at a guess).
The BBC's Alan 'noddy shot' Yentob was there, and having genuine conversations with people without the need for cut-and-paste camera trickery. Janet Street Porter turned up later and had a good old chat with Walliams: now that would be quite a pairing. Bevvies of pretty boho types flitted about looking to net themselves a catch, whilst middle-aged harridans strove to outdo each other with the capacity of their Birkins, and the snugness of their D&Gs.
There was actually some art there too. One keen young girl even tried to look at it. But she was soon barged out of the way by some snap-happy photographers ardently craving celebrity. Fortunately for her, it wasn't very good anyway, so she wasn't missing much. There were some big sculptures, some little ones (which Walliams very nearly knocked over, to general hilarity) and some big brightly coloured pictures, which made a great backdrop to the celebrity pap-shots.
But, how did all this happen? One name: Jopling. The White Cube is his thing. Brit Art was his thing. He bought into the likes of Hirst and Emin and now just keeps selling bits to Charles Saatchi. An eye for art made him good at his job; a serious networking talent makes him the massive success he is today. Whatever one's view on the whole YBA shtick, one can't deny that what Jopling has done is impressive.
No more is the art world just some weird private club for the yachting mega-rich. Now it's glamorous and exciting, with parties and famous people. It even gets pilloried in red-top rags, and there's not much better accolade than that.
And you can join in: simply don a beret, forget about the art, and get down to the next grand opening. But one tip: head straight to the bar. Free booze runs out early; the famous don't turn up 'til later.
