“My father called it art. I call it child abuse.”

Yesterday I saw an article about an avant garde Scandinavian artist who has “created” what I suppose they call an installation consisting of all the furniture of her apartment.

How much talent did that take? How much thought? Have a guess. Two minutes? Three?

Nowadays you just have an idea, the more ludicrous the better – and that’s art.

Or you think up something disgusting – do it, and that’s art. Gilbert and George are good at that – leaders of what you might call the shit-stirrers movement.

Robert Mapplethorpe decided that photographing someone sticking their fist up someone’s arse is art and was acclaimed as a genius.

Maybe so, maybe not – but at least his technique was excellent.

Very little art now seems to have any relationship to – or respect – for technique.

All this brings me to my heading, from an interview with a lady whose father revelled in filming her in the nude when she was 11 – asking questions like “have men started noticing your breasts?” – claiming this was art.

New York University now has a 45 minute film of her which they are refusing to give her – no doubt for reasons of “artistic integrity.” Maybe all child molesters are misunderstood geniuses engaged in their own special type of performance art.

If like me you think they – and other abusers – should be sought out and prevented from exercising their artistic tendencies join the Stop Abuse campaign, started by a friend – with a logo by another friend.