But while the new facilities are a gorgeous addition to an institution which has showcased the work of traditionalists and modernists alike, many art-lovers in Cornwall have questioned the exhibition chosen to launch the gallery?s new era. Simon Parker agrees

At least once a week during my formative years I would dash up the granite steps of the old Newlyn Art Gallery with a sense of expectation, wondering what was to greet my willing eyes this time. Thought-provoking, radical or just plain beautiful, the work on show never failed to provoke a reaction or prompt a discussion.

Consequently, the gallery has remained a favourite ever since, but it is hard to imagine any art-hungry youth being inspired by anything currently on show at the gallery - other than the spectacular view over Mount's Bay through the magnificent new glass frontage.

Visiting Newlyn Art Gallery has long been a delight and an education for many. What's more, it strives to be inclusive - rather than deliberately elitist and alienating.

No doubt that sense of delight and intrigue will return, but for the moment it is absent. In short, the exhibition chosen to launch the newly refurbished gallery is a mistake. It neither delights nor repels, provokes thought or inspires dreams. It is instead a study in mediocrity. A touch harsh? Why not go along to see it - then make up your own mind.

After years of planning, and a massive £4 million of investment, this fine institution loved by so many for so long has become an empty monument to the mundane - at least for the duration of summer 2007. What were the curators thinking of when they invited Christine Borland to scatter her hodgepodge of medical paraphernalia through the main gallery space? The collection of false legs, stethoscopes, tedious footage and inaudible interviews speaks to no one of anything either edifying, challenging or relevant.

However, it is not Christine Borland who should bear the brunt of any criticism - she is an artist, honestly pursuing her concerns - but those who thought to give her work such prominence.

Apart from anything else, it is a PR disaster in West Cornwall. I have lost count of the number of artists and writers who have criticised the invitation in far less measured words than those chosen here.

One, who preferred to remain anonymous, said: "In terms of any kind of visual spectacle it is non-existent. A few plastic limbs, a large and small video screen - it could be taking place in some miserable basement in a city rather than a vibrant new gallery full of rich Cornish light, set up for something really beautiful or spectacular or challenging.

"Ms Borland's morbid obsession with the forensic aspects of the body doesn't really translate into common experience. I'm sorry she finds it all so hard to accept but it's her problem not mine, and there's a difference between thrusting your obsession into other people's faces - even if it's revulsion with the flesh - and communicating it with feeling as, for example, Jenny Saville does. If there's no communication there's no art as far as I can see. It left me completely cold."

Another Cornish artist emailed to say: "I have never had much sympathy for much-heard comments in art galleries such as 'my two-year-old could have done that' because sometimes the simplest line or single colour can be beautiful and their two-year-old definitely could not have done it.

"I applaud brave and controversial curating, even if I don't like it. And if it provokes discussion and has some kind of artistry and beauty, even if it disturbs, I will defend it.

"Art is probably in the heart of the beholder. However, there is something deeply unpleasant about the Christine Borland exhibition. It fails to move, tells no story and has no beauty. I came away extremely underwhelmed and felt cheated. It sounded so promising - three years spent working in a Cornish hospital, and we are invited to listen to a wall through stethoscopes and to cut up a rubber leg. Where was the humanity, the human stories, the artistry?

"I felt the ghost of Stanhope Forbes leave in distress, not bothering to sign the visitors book."

And another email read: "It is a dreadful let-down. It isn't witty enough, adventurous enough, mad enough or art enough. I hate to be so negative but it's what lots of people are saying. That goes for the 'Lifestyle Mart' in the old telephone exchange in Penzance as well. Rainyday Gallery, in new premises on Penzance's Market Jew Street, knocks spots off the expensive new developments when it comes to content."

Those in charge of Newlyn Art Gallery may choose to dismiss such criticism, arguing that doubters "simply don't get it" or that they are all "philistines" unable to understand contemporary visual art.

But the truth is that those who care about the future of Newlyn Art Gallery are only fizzing about the choice of this show to herald a new era in the venue's exciting history precisely because they do understand and that regular visitors also fully understand.

Many were quick to criticise the Tate when it opened in St Ives all those years ago, arguing that it was nothing more than a museum to the past and paid little attention to what was happening in today's Cornwall. But the Tate has changed and improved over the years, presenting both contemporary and historic influences.

OK, so Cornwall isn't exactly brimming with visually artistic innovation at the moment - despite what the style grandees and the owners of countless gallery-shops would have us believe. But there are, nevertheless, far more interesting and far more ground-breaking artists in Cornwall and elsewhere whose work would have been a better and more vibrant choice to launch what is, after all, an impressive extension to the old building. We can only hope that future exhibitions at Newlyn Art Gallery will again delight, inspire and break boundaries.

Christine Borland's exhibition can be seen at Newlyn Art Gallery until September 16. Admission is free.

article copyright SIMON PARKER for WESTERN MORNING NEWS 

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