THE END OF MODERN ART                                                                                                                     by Tom Hendricks                                 aka Art S Revolutionary                                             It all began this way. I was walking home from a taco place and thinking about Martin Creed and his Art Prize. He won the annual Turner Prize that goes to the best art work from a British artist younger than 50. The prize was a check for $31,500 that was handed to him by Madonna. And what was his art? Now this is hard to even say---even let the words sputter out of my mouth. The reason being I, too, am an artist. I have been one for decades, have studied and copied the masters, done work in almost every media. (I prefer drawing, acrylic or colored pencil over drawings.) And I worked hard to have some scope to my art: portraits, landscapes, still life, abstracts, and just about everything in between. I love the stuff. I breathe art. I love to know everything there is to know about art and artists. So what was HIS art? He got the yard-wide novelty check from Madonna (representing a couple of years of my income) for his exhibit of flashing light bulbs in an empty room. (His previous works include a scrunched-up piece of paper and a ball of clay stuck to a wall.) British art curator Simon Wilson notes, "He wants to make art where he is doing as little as possible that is consistent with doing something. The fact that many people find his work so baffling indicates that he's working on the edge." Oh I see. Now I am getting it. Now I am figuring out the "NEW" rules. Creed himself comments, "If I can make something without adding any objects, I feel more comfortable." And then it DAWNED ON ME. I would bring modern art to its end. I would suggest the ultimate. The ultimate in baffling minimalism. I would get the plastic check from Madonna. So on Tuesday, 1/08/02, at 1:30-1:40 p.m., as I, Tom Hendricks, was walking home from the taco place, I took art to its ultimate. This was the last minute of modern art. It could go no further. Where Creed had flashing lights in an empty room, I would ... IMAGINE A GALLERY IN MY MIND THAT WOULD HAVE NO LIGHTS ON AT ALL! And I did. And that moment marked the end of modern art.