Pneumatic For The People

I met Jeremy Deller in Cardiff, November 1999. He already had form as a spikey artist, tuned into subversive pop. Acid Brass was one of his early works, featuring some boss tunes from Detroit and Manchester, reimagined by the Williams Fairey Brass Band. So as I watched him finishing off the Unconvention project at the Centre For Visual Arts, it was clear that Jeremy was onto something important.

He was using the lyrics of the Manic Street Preachers to reflect on many shaker-makers from art, literature and politics. A Warhol portrait and Francis Bacon on the wall, a Kippenberger across the way and the first time that a Picasso had ever been exhibited in Wales.



There were Spanish Civil War images, some Don McCullin photos from Vietnam, and Kevin Carter's piercing reportage in the South African townships. All of these related back to the Manics' songbook, enhancing them, adding value to the vivid imaginations of Nicky and Richey.



Like the band, Jeremy was familiar with the Situationists, so the display cabinet featured the writings of Guy Debord and even his sandpaper-bound Mémoires, designed to destroy every other book it came into contact with. So many astonishing conversations in the room, from pop art and the Miners' Strike, Guernica, punk and the Society of the Spectacle. Understandably, Nicky Wire was beaming, vindicated.



Thirteen years later and I'm at Grove Park in Belfast, jumping on a life-size, inflatable Stonehenge. There's a kiss of sunshine, a load of families in motion and just a hint of sedition. Because this isn't simply an alternative, bouncy castle. This is Sacrilige by Jeremy Deller, another engaging take on folk art and the people. It's a piece of work that was launched in Glasgow before touring a bunch of cities, en route to the Paralympic Games. A concept that rocks, essentially.