The Institute of Questionable Art
Preparing the room.
Nigel is straightening the frames and clearing his throat...
Dimming the lights to a flattering, faintly judgemental level...
Uncorking something he cannot pronounce but insists is correct...
Adjusting the velvet rope around nothing in particular...
Rehearsing an opinion he will deliver as though it were always obvious...
The Institute Press · Volume the First
On Judgement, Taste, and the Subtle Arrogance of the Well-Intentioned Gaze
The debut monograph from Nigel Ponceby-Smythe
For sixteen years Nigel has gazed upon the photographs of the public and found them wanting. Now, at extraordinary length and entirely at his own insistence, he has written it all down: a complete theory of how to look at things, and how to be quietly superior about having done so.
“A tour de force of contempt dressed as scholarship.”The Institute Review
The Book
Most art books exist to explain great works. This one exists to explain Nigel. Across its forthcoming volumes, the Director sets out the full doctrine of the Institute: that any object, however regrettable, can be elevated into Important Art by the simple application of nerve, lighting, and an unearned valuation.
Volume the First is enclosed. The remainder is, as all important things are, forthcoming.
What the complete work promises
How to stand near a painting so as to suggest ownership.
The Authoritative Pause, and the precise moment to deploy it.
Tactical Burgundy: drinking as a critical methodology.
Why “interesting” is the cruellest word in the English language.
The squint itself, in both theory and practice (Volume the First, enclosed).
Rejecting art, with affection, and a certificate.
The Audio Edition
Nigel has recorded the opening of the work himself, in a voice the committee describes as “load-bearing.” Press play, lower your eyelids, and begin to see.
Chapter One
In which Nigel establishes, gently and without charge, that you do not know how to see, and proposes to fix it over several volumes you did not ask for.
Let us begin, as all important undertakings must, with you. You have, I shall generously assume, eyes. Two of them, in the conventional arrangement, positioned at the front, where they are least imaginative but most convenient. You have employed these eyes for years (to locate doorways, to avoid oncoming traffic, to read the small print on a tin of soup) and you have concluded, on the strength of this, that you know how to see.
You do not. This is not an insult. It is a diagnosis. And I make it, you will notice, without charging you for the consultation, which is the most generous thing I shall do in this entire volume, so do enjoy it.
Hear the sample
Chapter Two
The single most powerful technique in the history of art appreciation, explained in full: slow, silent, and accompanied by the faintest possible nod.
I promised you a method, and I am, against all expectation and most of my instincts, a man of my word. So let us now address the single most important technique in the history of art appreciation: a technique so powerful, so transformative, and so entirely free of charge that I have named this book after it.
The squint. When you open your eyes fully (wide, eager, trusting, like a spaniel) you see everything exactly as it is. This is a catastrophe. Detail is the enemy of significance. But narrow the eyes, and the kebab becomes a form, the grease becomes light, the polystyrene tray becomes a plinth. That is the squint. It is not a flaw in your vision. It is the correction of it.
Hear the sample
The Waiting List
The Squint is forthcoming: slowly, expensively, and only for those who had the foresight to put their name down. Leave your address and you shall be informed the moment the remaining volumes are deemed ready, or the moment Nigel requires the attention, whichever arrives first.
You will, regrettably, be added to a list. The list is fond. Mostly. It also doubles as the Unremarkable Dispatch, the Institute’s newsletter; you may leave it whenever the committee’s quiet disappointment becomes bearable.
A Practical Exercise
Theory is all very well. But the squint is only truly understood once it has been inflicted upon a photograph of your own: a kebab, a blurred relative, a piece of evidence that ought to have been deleted. Upload a photo to the Studio and the curatorial engine will elevate it, with total conviction, into a one-of-one artwork, complete with wall label, provenance, and a valuation it has not earned.