I’m one of these egalitarian artphiles who doesn’t give a dried mustard crap about the tag data in galleries. You could be trained up the yin-yang and still evoke projectile tears of boredom. And we all know that’s professionally acceptable if you’re selling in the six digits at Christie’s, right? Well, I’m of the Seeing-is-Believing School of art appreciation. Give me a technically adroit artist with taste over some twat with a degree any day of the week. Not that they’re by any means mutually exclusive. It just happens too often that one is shooting for the moon while the other is content to embed an arrow in his brogues for the sake of his college, his reputation or – god forbid – that Devil named Consistency.