I’m not at all sure that everything I’ve seen on my visits was actually Art. (Can soap be Art?) But, you know, it doesn’t really matter. A couple of weeks ago John Carey, the Sunday Times’s chief literary critic, devoted 4,000 words to the question “What is a work of Art?”. His conclusion was billed as “provocative” and “controversial”. Here it is:
“The question ‘Is it a work of art?’ can now receive only the answer: ‘Yes if you think it is; no, if not.’ … The ignoramus’s attitude to art used to be parodied as ‘I don’t know much about art, but I know what I like’. But this, it seems, is all any of us can say.”
So that’s all right then. It’s just what I said four weeks ago.
And there’s another reason it doesn’t matter. Over and over again as I visited Open Houses I realised that the Art – or not – was only part of the story. Not only were they universally welcoming, but they seemed to be thriving on the buzz and energy of their visitors. And some venues clearly regarded the whole thing as a party into which the visitors were welcome to wander. Everything’s there to be bought, and maybe a bargain to be had, but it’s all thoroughly British. There’s a touch of the summer fête. Yes, we’re here to sell you things, but we’re just as happy if it’s a cup of tea and some home-made, Fairtrade or Domestic Goddess cake.
There are unsung feats of organisation somewhere behind all this. Yet there’s no listed board of management. No mention of a lottery grant. Just sponsors – around as many sponsors as there are venues – ranging from patent attorneys to orthodontists and from The Butler Did It mystery events to Arka Original Funerals. (And I’m pleased to see the Max Miller Society is a sponsor, as I mentioned his newly-unveiled statue in my first column!)

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