He felt a numbness steal his finger tips as he reached to adjust the lens of the data projector.

…if Salcedo had got a team of builders to construct a crack in the ground in a sports centre or a school playground, would it have been so appreciated as a great piece of art by both the general public and art critics? No. The only place that this could ever be manufactured is the turbine hall of the Tate Modern. To make it work as art, to justify what in the cold light of day is in actual fact a fairly ordinary thing, it has to be surrounded both literally and conceptually.

In the first row of the tiered theatre, half the faces began to blur.

Firstly, it is conceptually legitimate because the woman who has announced its meaning is institutionalised as an artist. Secondly, it exists in a building that has official status as an art gallery and has been given official endorsement as such from those in power.

There is also a third reason that makes it art; it is subject to critical discourse by those who have been granted official status as art critics, or at least, well known cultural commentators, broadsheet journalists and academics. We could keep our tongues in our cheeks and call the non-critic group “the commentariat” or “the opionatti”.

A bolt of adrenaline coiled upwards through his spinal cord. The ghost of his dead childhood dog transpired at his feet and began to yap.

Let’s examine this quote from Gormley.

“The Angel of The North represents a focus of hope at a painful time of transition for the people of the north-east, abandoned in the gap between the industrial and the information ages.”

Gormley is forced to justify the sculpture’s existence because it serves no practical purpose. The architects of office blocks, sports centres or supermarkets would not be expected to attach similar meaning to their creations.

And does this not beg an important question? If this piece of mega-art had an anonymous author, if it had suddenly appeared overnight, would people come to the same meaningful conclusions as Gormley? Has the artist been able to sculpt it in such a way that its very dimensions are somehow able to conjure his acceptation?

His feet sank into the cheap cherry red carpet. The lights melted in buttery forms and ran down the walls in thick trickles. He saw a blond girl doodle a figure on a lever arch file, the exact number in minutes until she was to conceive her first child.

But anyway, if this statue had appeared overnight the context and meaning would be completely altered. People of the north east wouldn’t be saying “oh yes, I really love how it represents a symbol of hope for us at a time when we’re stuck between the industrial and information ages.” They’d be saying “Where the hell did that fucking big rusting statue come from? Who put that there?”

Just like the Shibboleth at the Tate Modern this was a commissioned art work which the artist was paid for and was officially endorsed and financed by centres of power. It’s only with this as a base that it’s possible for both Gormley and Salcedo to invoke meaning for their creations.

His mind unplugged from his body and astral projected to the back of the theatre. It was here that the Professor watched his physical home complete its final lecture.