JUST when you thought the world was approaching financial meltdown came the auction of Da-mien Hirst’s works of a deci-dedly peculiar nature, during which the Sotheby’s hammer rapped out a staggering £111m.

Now, this may have been a true indication of their artistic merit — how do you reckon a malheureux bullock draped with a gold hairpiece pickled in formaldehyde and stuffed in a glass case is worth £10.3m? — or simply, as stocks, shares and property plummet in value, it was a case of some canny hedgers acquiring and storing away anything of exceptional value for a rainy day.

Art historians will remind you of the psychological parallels. Apparently, as Rome descended into apocalypse, life degenerated into an orgy of hoarding precious items. It certainly puts Hirst’s bejewelled skulls into context, doesn’t it?

So what value do we put on art? Obviously there’s the veneration of unique talent — that once-in-a- lifetime depiction of light, aura or the capturing of an image which lives forever. There is the crude scarcity value that because it’s unique, everybody else wants it.

There is the fact that artistic merit apart, it may be constructed in precious metals that cost the earth — and would still keep you in dinners if the world’s economy collapsed and you had to melt it down. But there’s also the priceless aspect of its inspirational value and contribution to the quality of life.

Accessibility is the key. And free access at that. Too many precious works of art never actually get to be seen. They’re kept in gallery or museum vaults, deemed too precious, or too cumbersome, for public consumption.

A truly inspired way to display notable artworks in public has been the local initiative placing facsimiles of well-known paintings at strategic locations around St Helier, making folk aware of our artistic heritage, and celebrating its excellence without the depressing prospect of having to visit them in hushed reverence or encased in a costly mausoleum erected on precious open space at the Weighbridge. So let’s have more of these magnificent reproductions distributed around town on a rotating basis — our very own art gallery for the people.

Now, apart from the impressive bronze commemorating the Liberation in front of the neglected old Tourism office, we would appear to have consigned much of our creative public art to hide-and-seek. The ‘Prince Charles needle’ shivers hidden away in a draughty passage on the Albert Pier, while the meaning of the granite crapaud at Charing Cross passeth the understanding of many a passer-by.

The Freedom Tree languishes on a windy promenade short on promenaders, and in any case it is dwarfed in the shadow of the architectural splendour of the Radisson hotel block. But it is the artistic appeal of buildings themselves, the statements they make, their harmony with the environment which should be enhancing their stature and appeal.

We could go for bold — the proposed Esplanade development is currently a masterplan of joined-up architectural thinking, but lacks artistic excitement or a crowning feature. Perversely, the under-patronised ferris wheel on the Waterfront at least caught the eye and formed the backdrop to some spectacular photographs of the international air display. But it will soon be dismantled. So let’s have a permanent artistic architectural statement — like Portsmouth’s impressive Spinnaker Tower, for instance — to celebrate our maritime heritage and create a truly unique and memorable Island icon, particularly when Elizabeth Castle is obscured for ever from traditional town view.

We might not quite have the appetite for our own version of the Angel of the North, and poor old hissing Ariadne is currently on the receiving end of some unflattering media attention. But at least she’s a quirky piece of mechanical art, does keep reasonably accurate time, and provides a unique background for happy holiday snaps.
The green-fingered floral artists of Grouville also contribute summer vistas of roadside colour which again lift spirits by design and strategic staging.

Art, of course, comes in many forms. Last year we witnessed the fun aspect of community participation on the graffiti panels erected in various parts of town as an initiative of the Jersey Arts Trust’s artist in residence, although the unofficial scrawlers in the Esplanade underpass were scorned and chased off.

In days gone by, motorists in St Helier were treated to a rare flourish of public performance art, courtesy of Traffic Officer Mildren on point duty in Colomberie. Visiting Jersey at the moment is a project team commissioned by Education and Culture to draw up a strategy on public art. It’s an important strand in the Island’s cultural strategy, and acquired a greater immediacy following the Planning department’s adoption of a ‘percentage for art’ policy.

This requires developers of significant projects to include a contribution to art to enhance the public environment.
It’s all now in the hands of the Planning and Environment Minister, which might — or might not — be a good thing. Having, in January, fulsomely endorsed the initiative ‘Taking Public Art Forward’ in consultation with a panel made up of heritage and artistic bodies, in June he decided that he would not be seeking their advice after all; leaving the disenfranchised representatives to question whe-ther serious artistic considerations come second to big-name projects.

There are examples we could follow. Forget Liverpool, struggling to live up to its title of ‘European city of culture’, and consider Bar-celona. Environmentally and culturally, it is now regarded as one of the most attractive European cities, which attracts artists and prosperity, because people simply enjoy living there on account of its quality of life.
Once ‘art for art’s sake’ becomes art for everyone’s sake, our environment becomes so much more desirable.