Art can be magnificent, glorious, enchanting, life-changing, a damn good kick in the bollocks. It can and often is those things. Art that grabs someone's mind and heart and rips them to pieces before re-asembling them beautifully.
But, the Turner Prize nominees all have entirely different qualities on offer: They offer blandness, predictability, BOREDOM. They offer nothing. That lack that Sartre defined so eloquently. Nothing. It's shite of the worst kind. It is shite that seeks to deceive the onlooker into thinking that something profound is being offered, when, in fact, all is so status quo and anodyne that there should be a sign on the door before entering that says: "Please have a lobotomy before entering this room." The artists have no concept of beauty, of revolution, of difference - they do not know what art is.