Going to miss his posh voice. Knew his art and had perfect diction when explaining it.

He was like a more successful version of all of us.

And posher.

True. You never hear Sister Wendy bad-mouthing street art.

She'd make us all do one hundred hail Mary's while she prayed for our sins.... bless her

That is precisely why I valued Brian Sewell so much as an art critic — in addition to the fact he was remarkably knowledgeable, passionate, and quite funny in a scathing way.

When you actually agree with a critic, it's very easy because it avoids the need to really question your own opinions. The temptation then is to rest on your laurels, basking in the third-party validation, and to just leave things as they are. Status quo maintained; evolution on hold.

But it's the occasions when your views are challenged by a worthy adversary that a proper effort is required. Only then are you on the back foot and required to articulate (hopefully in a persuasive manner with convincing arguments) exactly why you disagree or in what way your opinions differ. You're often forced to do further research, learn more, think harder, reconsider, reevaluate, perhaps refine or at times even change a position you previously held.

There, I believe, is where the importance and benefit of a critic truly lies.

If anyone here wishes to be shaken from what may be their as-yet-unrecognised trance or stupor of conventional wisdom about contemporary art, imagine yourself in the position of Alberto Mugrabi while he's being interviewed (or toyed with) by the brilliant and sadly-departed Robert Hughes in the documentary, The Mona Lisa Curse (2008). Then ask yourself how capably you could defend your own favourite artists if required to field the direct and quite simple questions Mugrabi was asked by Hughes (see 1:02:34 to 1:07:25):