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Gilbert and George are the godfathers of modern British art. Without them, the trite messages and facile innuendo of Britart would have been unthinkable

By Ben Lewis   March 2006

I recently received an email from the White Cube gallery inviting me to see the new pictures by Gilbert and George, which were, they said, “lustrous, ornate, pictorially complex, vividly coloured, yet suffused with tenebrous solemnity.” Imagine my surprise then, as I entered the gallery and beheld what were—even by the diabolically low standards established by the YBAs in the 1990s—the most empty-headed artworks produced in Britain in living memory. The only thing they had in common with the text of the gallery’s email was absurd hyperbole. It left me wondering: what makes Gilbert and George so bad?

Gilbert and…

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