If there is an artist that the public love to hate it would be Tracy Emin.
She's not highlighted for her drawing skills. Culturally, we tend to think it's ok to draw 'spontaneously' but only so long as we can draw.
A child can't draw, but that's ok, as a child.
Typically, after years of training and school one learns to draw.
Until it's realised, after Modernism and Dada, actually anything goes...
Unless, of course, one is Tracy Emin.
Years of our teachers aspiring to realism, years of students telling themselves that they can't draw, years of perplexing conceptional art, piled onto an irritating celebrity personality, won't let Emin get away with it. She just can't draw.
But we needed Emin when she arrived onto the scene. It perked our interest, it perked my interest, in a world of convention. She can't draw yet we can't stop looking... because drawing is not what were looking at, we're looking at her and that's interesting.
When I hold Emin's former husband, Billy Childish - who coined the term Stuckism, apparently Emin had exclaimed, "Your paintings are stuck, you are stuck! Stuck! Stuck! Stuck!" - side by side with Emin, I know which one I find the most interesting. Being able to draw, or not, is missing the point.