Posted by cathedralofshit on July 8, 2010
Art and football, have they ever mixed? Remember Johnnie Shand Kydd’s moving photographs of Jay Jopling leaping up in front of a television showing the football? Or Max Wigram’s barking midfield orders during the late-lamented Zoo Art Fair football matches? Or collector Carl Kostyal in a pair of bikini briefs playing beach football in Miami? No, nor can we. Football brings out brilliant attempts at masculinity from all the gayers and effete wimps that make up the male art world, and we’re hoping for this in oodles with Art Review’s football day on Sunday. Ever wanted to see Charles Avery sweat like a stripper? Or Ash Lange pant like a friendly dog? If you have, head over to the five aside place in Shoreditch this Sunday you loser. But why, CoS wants to know, are neither Mark Rappolt or David Terrien, the hunky beefcakes at the helm of Art Review donning a pair of arse-rippling 70s football shorts and taking part? Surely they’re not just there for a day of eating canapes? And why are no women playing? I personally would have paid a fiver to see Sarah Thornton perform a sliding tackle.