"Similar episodes [of fakery] occurred in the visual arts, beginning with Marcel Duchamp's urinal and passing through Andy Warhol's silk screen portraits and Brillo boxes to the pickled sharks and cows of Damien Hirst. In each case, the critics gathered like clucking hens around the new, inscrutable egg, and the fake was projected to the public with all the apparatus required for its acceptance as the real thing. So powerful is the impetus towards the collective fake that it is now an effective requirement of finalists for the Turner Prize in Britain to produce something that nobody would think was art unless they were told it was. On the other hand, original gestures of the kind introduced by Duchamp cannot really be repeated -- like jokes, they can be made only once. So we find a habit of faking that is so deeply wrapped up in its own imperatives that no judgment is certain, except the judgment that this before us is the 'real thing' and not a fake at all, which in turn is a fake judgment.

To convince themselves that they are true progressives, riding in the vanguard of history, the new impresarios surround themselves with others of their kind. They promote them to all the committees that are relevant to their status and expect to be promoted in their turn. Thus arose the contemporary establishment -- the self-contained circle of critics and promoters, who form the backbone of our official and semi-official cultural institutions. They trade in 'originality', 'transgression' and 'breaking new paths'. But these terms are clichés, as are the things they are used to praise. Hence the flight from cliché ends in cliché."

Roger Scruton, "The great swindle: From pickled sharks to compositions in silence, fake ideas and fake emotions have elbowed out truth and beauty," Aeon Magazine, December, 2012