Whenever I’m walking through campus I always see people who run. And I don’t mean runners or joggers. I mean a person, wearing normal clothes, carrying a backpack in a dead sprint or a panicked job. Maybe they’re late for a class or they’re missing a test. But really, it’s not worth the sweat and extra breath to make it a few minutes earlier than you would have. It happens almost everyday. And I always laugh.
What if you’re inside a building, like a museum, and people are running? And these people aren’t just staying in shape, they’re actually apart of the museum. They’re the art. That’s what is happening with Martin Creed’s Work No. 850 at Tate Britain. Runners run in 30 second intervals on a set path. And it’s supposed to mean something.
That’s the problem with these meanings. They’re not just highly tenuous. They’re depressingly limiting. And we should put them aside. We should stop measuring art by its meaningfulness.