Fake at the Tate

Tracey Emin and Martin Creed have made fortunes from them. Whether it's an unmade bed or a humble lightbulb, modern art galleries are prepared to spend thousands on everyday items and turn them into 21st century icons.

It seems nowadays almost anything can be turned into art. Or can it? Last week, art students from Leeds Metropolitan University dumped some cardboard boxes on the floor of the Tate Modern. Within moments, a crowd had gathered to admire the new exhibit before security guards cleared them away.

The Evening Standard decided to test the credulity of the public once again by exhibiting a mundane object - and seeing how long it took visitors to treat it with the reverence of a tank of Damien Hirst's pickled sharks.

We plumped for a classic subject interpreted by artists through the centuries - a basket of fruit, to which we added a suitably pretentious label.

The "artist" of our masterpiece was Harrods' Food Hall. We christened the work Take A Bite and discreetly put it on show in a room housing prints and objets d'art by modern sculptor Eduardo Paolozzi. Close by were works by two of the past century's greatest artists, Matisse and Picasso. After all, Take A Bite, by fictional artist Spence Marx, was a serious piece, a work that "empowered" the observer to eat from the display and "actively engage with the installation".

These were not apples and bananas hurriedly dumped into a basket by Mohamed Fayed's in-house grocer. These were "permanent signifiers of meaning".

Within moments, Paolozzi's canvases lost their allure as art lovers crowded around. Word spread through the surrounding rooms that there was something truly original to see in the Paolozzi room. A French viewer examined the display and said to her friend: "Is it a real piece of art or is it just fruit? It's very hard to say. That's what makes it such an interesting work."

A young South American woman pursed her lips as she examined Take A Bite and nodded as she read the label beside it. Then she followed the artist's advice to "interact" with the work - and plucked a plump pear from the basket.

A Japanese couple gingerly touched some of the fruit but hurried on, bemused by its life-like texture. Another member of the cognoscenti, a rotund German man, produced a camera and started snapping - as the bench in the centre of the Paolozzi room became a feeding frenzy of culture.

"Conceptually interesting," said Charlotte, an art student from London.

Hans, another German tourist, was boldest in his evaluation. He examined the fruit carefully for several minutes, then shoved a fistful of cherries in his mouth.