For me – and I know it’s passé  – the ‘60s represent the epitome of cultural revolution, an era of subversion where the connotations of those transformations that took place drove deep into all facets of life. My dad swapped knee-length shorts for the first pair of skinny jeans, and my mum knee-length convent socks for hip-length skirts.

Culture – creative endeavour and its effects – is all about subversion. Society needs this subversion. Accepted societal protocols and customs, ideas and interpretations need sustained attack and questioning. There is nothing new in this argument, or in asserting that the abstractness of art is the perfect way to do this, to avoid stereotype by constant reassessment.

Art allows us to say and show what real life cannot. Admittedly, we live now in an age where there are fewer overt taboos. Even the titty tabloid has ceased to be very risqué. But, today’s taboos are more insidious; the 60s scratched away at the surface, challenging blatant prejudice and discrimination. Now we must deal with the core – the kind of taboos that are attitudinal ills like our unrealistic, deleterious work ethic.

The major transformations that took place in the 60s were social and political, though very much reflected and steered by culture. What we face today boils down to a cultural stagnation. Culture generates change, but it also needs an audience. There is not enough of either.

Petty politics has ousted art from its popular subversive seat. Our criticisms are passive in this era of political correctness. We question perceptions, rather than acts and facts. One of the tenets of political correctness is inclusiveness – or inclusivity, the new, more politically correct term.

This is not political comment, however; my point is that in order to ensure inclusion, the current consensus is that cultural offerings must be accessible to the masses. Culture must be populist. Not that we should all start going to the opera, but if culture is going to be populist, let it be popular, as well – and of its own accord.

The beneficiaries of this populist rule are talentless narcissists like Simon Cowell. Conceptual art is our most valued aesthetic offering, if we look at the money it generates. But sensuous worth? I’m sorry Tracey, Damian, but yes, my five-year-old could have painted that. And the most prevalent cultural memories of the decade just passed? Reality TV and a putative comedian who leaves mucky messages on answering machines.

The subversive heart of art is still beating strongly. There has been a resurgence of live music in recent years. The short story, as an antidote to what Zadie Smith calls the ‘nauseating novel’, is enjoying a comeback. Nothing could kick the life out of true art, but the leading purveyors of cultural cuisine are suppressing it. Commercial viability is to blame, as it nearly always is.

To buck the trend, to feed subversion, it is time to dig out the underground. Our cultural managers must be brave and visionary, like the curator of the Bristol City Museum, who let Banksy take over the space for a one-off exhibition last year. You have to fight for things that are worth doing – inclusion included.