This Thursday at the ICA in London's Mall, artist and musician Billy Childish will be talking to curator Matthew Higgs about his exhibition there, which has been extended until May 2. I enjoyed this show, and I can't think of any other important public gallery that would currently harbour such a subversive figure – well, maybe the Serpentine, which is brilliant these days. It's the second intriguing exhibition at the ICA in the last few months: the other one that I enjoyed being Rosalind Nashashibi's films.
This venue, right now, puts on interesting, worthwhile explorations of contemporary art that are a little bit more engaged with what's happening than you might get in, say, the temporary space on the Tate Modern's riverfront, which always seems to host the most God-awful irrelevant art to be found anywhere in the global art scene.
The ICA, in this critic's humble opinion (I've always wanted to say "in this critic's humble opinion") is doing pretty much what it says on the box. Institute of Contemporary Arts. It's still doing what it did when Richard Hamilton and the Independent Group were here in the 1950s: putting forward stuff you might not see elsewhere, with a certain courage and indifference to the mainstream.
But everyone is saying the ICA is financially doomed. The place appears to be erupting behind the scenes with Mark Sladen, responsible for the shows I've praised, leaving, and it seems fashionable to opine that it doesn't matter, that the ICA is past its prime and superfluous, and God, wasn't it always a pain anyway.
I disagree. Being imperfect is part of its heritage of supporting the new. But to dismiss it is ignorant, philistine, and dangerous. The ICA has a powerful character and a permanent purpose. It is a precious part of British culture. It would be a tragedy to see it close – a terrible loss to creativity. It is a great British eccentric. It should highlight, not change, what it is: a place where the new is always incubating in ways that no one expected.
Save the ICA! We would miss it badly.
