Gary Lineker looks on in disgust

Royal Academy Summer Exhibition

Photo © Alex Leith 

How long do you need to take in the 1,613 works in this year’s Royal Academy Summer Exhibition, co-ordinated by the genial octogenarian water-colourist David Remfry?  

Circumstances give me less than an hour, which clearly isn’t enough. Luckily, I have had good time to do my homework before I arrive, which means I can make a beeline for the best stuff, while glossing over the dross. And, the Summer Show being the Summer Show, there’s a LOT of dross. Which is part of the fun of it, of course. 

The absolute highlight is Oratorio, by Paula Rego, who died almost exactly a year ago, a counterpoint to the gaudy primary-coloured paintings that hang, sometimes ten-deep, on the walls, and the wacky works of sculpture joining the curious crowd of equally brightly-clad visitors on the floors: a furry chair here, a canvas bog-man corpse there… oh, and a fibreglass model of Donald Trump’s head (why?). 

Rego’s piece is given a bit of space to itself, so you can shut out the noise around it, which is good, as it deserves contemplation. An antique cabinet, doors open, filled with grotesque paintings and dolls, like a 3D late-show Goya, contemplating birth and death with equal horror. Don’t save this one for the end, though, unless you want to carry a dark, troubling mood home with you. 

Other works that demanded attention were by (in alphabetical order): Norman Ackroyd; Rana Begum, Frank Bowling; Matthew Burrows; Emma Carlow; Kaye Donachie; Tracey Emin, Antony Gormley, Marcelle Hanselaar, Vanessa Jacklin, Chantal Joffe, Langlands & Bell; David Nash; Chris Orr, Cornelia Parker; Barbara Rae; David Remfry himself; Veronica Ryan, Rebecca Salter; Yinka Shonibare; Caragh Turing; Barbara Walker; Gillian Wearing, and Rose Wylie. Most of whose names, I’m sure you’ll recognise (class will out). The late Phyllida Barlow is represented in the architectural room with two pieces which charmingly mock the serious tone of their companions, like clowns at a funeral: the anthropomorphic Untitled: Box, and the comedy henge-pile Untitled: Folly; Bouldercolumn. 

I’ll be back, of course. David Remfry has done a good job this year, he deserves applause. It’s heartening to see so much figurative work on show, and that there isn’t an overbearing mood of hectoring preachiness. My prize for the best title goes to the comedian Joe Lycett’s Hockney parody I Drink a Crisp, Cold Beer in a Pool in Los Angeles while Gary Lineker Looks on in Disgust. Which brings a big smile to my face, and which could be yours for a cool £1,354,000. Thankfully, there’s plenty more affordable art on show, if you want to take something home with you.