Down with populism?
Accessibility is a buzzword in Blairite Britain. The very concept of access for all has become a kind of political mantra, even though its meaning can vary from introducing free admission to museums to improving disabled facilities.
But not everyone is convinced that the quest for accessibility is necessarily positive. "It's fine to lower prices, but not to lower expectations," says George Walden, author of The New Elites. "Everything depends on the merit of the art, and that's what we should care about. Instead our approach is too socially conscious. Too often, when the elites talk about accessibility, they mean lowering expectations for people whom they think are less smart than themselves."
There is certainly a fear among some that New Labour's "philistine populism" is more concerned with accessibility targets than excellence. "Just because something is popular doesn't mean that it's good," adds Walden. "And it is worth looking outside this island of ours. How it is that countries like France, which I would say has a far higher general level of aesthetic education than ours, charge for museums? I'm not sure it makes us morally superior to other countries that we have free admission."
Professor Anthony O'Hear, a philosopher and former government education adviser, agrees. He is also concerned that the stress on accessibility may lead to a "dumbing down" within the art world. "I think there are some works which demand attention and respect, and to pretend that they're not difficult, in the service of accessibility, destroys their meaning," he says.
Others point at Classic FM and events like the Proms in the Park which they criticise for concentrating on so-called "greatest hits" classics or playing excerpts from symphonies. Meanwhile Trevor Nunn was sorely censured for putting on the musicals Oklahoma and My Fair Lady during his period of tenure at the National Theatre.
"What one craves from the National is some alternative to a musical-dominated commercial culture rather than a duplication of it," wrote Guardian theatre critic Michael Billington.
"I'm not negative about musicals," says George Walden. "Some, like West Side Story, are much better than certain plays. But, as with all arts, it's the quality that counts. People can emphasise the success of Tate Modern, but I would say that the new Tate actually has a very thin collection. As for Salford's Lowry arts centre, I just don't think it's very good. Lowry's a small provincial artist."
Those who point to the importance of greater and more diverse audiences are not helped by the furore that surrounds each year's Turner Prize. To many, it appears that while claiming to broaden accessibility by encouraging a wide variety of artistic genres, it actually results in something that is more PR hype than high quality. Last year, for example, a photographer beat, collectively, an embroiderer, a painter who had been accused of plagiarism and an artist whose exhibit was, literally, a pile of rubbish.
"The Turner Prize has no artistic value," says Professor O'Hear. "It's beyond vulgar, simply an attempt to gain media coverage. Much of it isn't art, as is the case with other examples, like graffiti. This emphasis on accessibility is compromising the seriousness with which things can be appreciated."
Graham Sheffield, artistic director of the Barbican, admits that the concept of access is not always popular.
"It's assumed to be pejorative," he says. "Access should mean getting in, but it's acquired this strange connotation, which is a pity. It shouldn't mean compromise and it shouldn't mean dumbing down. Access should mean mixing cultures. It might be used as a catch-all phrase these days, but what it needs to do is simply concentrate on quality, presentation and integrity."