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From: Vestin Pance Category: Art Date: 10 July 2009 Time: 02:53 PM Review: Call it what you like, secularists are claiming them as their own but Gilbert and George's Jack Freak Pictures sing out with the conviction of born-again, high-church and not a moment too soon, just as the despair of The Fourth Plinth was sinking into the mire of foetid Uncle Tony's big adventure a heavenly bugle soundeth from the East End and our angelic saviours are parachuted in at the eleventh hour, they may loathe organized religions, I will gladly be a devout Gilletgeorgian believer. Is there a summer or two summers since The Nature of our Looking ? Actually over thirty years of cyclic religio/politico corrosion have ensued as the echoing Rhorsac palindromic figured canvases inform us in such a multiplicity of majestically potent glyphery and yet with hubris as in the perpetual burden of colonial guilt, We are told to clap when the troops come home, to hold parties and to thank the dead for the sacrifice of their young bodies whilst the tired old generals and ministers with their expenses coupons shuffle along with the Lord Mayor and a brass band, army towns don't have small industrial units anymore so sing brother, sing, even if inside our collective soul, we cannot quite grasp whats going on through the window of murdoch's television, Englands dreaming now, I never thought the union flag was capable of saying anything more than it already has, when one emerges from Masons Yard even cricket seems to be something conspiratorially, Gilgorguosly divisive.