Tate modern

A while back, I went to Tate modern.

Unsuprisingly, I hadn't planned on visiting it, it just sort of happened. Well, not quite. But I'll explain this in my next post. If I remember.

When I turned up on the doorstep, there was a little exhibition to the side. So I went in.

It was quite good actually, it was based on star wars - but that's not the point. I thought it was quite good, and I planned on doing something about it as part of my art project at school [yep. I'm afraid I haven't escaped the clutches of our education system yet. Not for quite a while]. Of course, I never got round to it.

So I went inside, expecting something the same kind of quality. How wrong could I be?

To be fair, there were at least 4 pieces out of the seemingly millions that were quite good. Maybe.

My favorite just had to be the picture I found upstairs. I forget it's name now, but it's description was brilliant. In place of the norml 'oil on canvas', or the slightly more unusual 'acrylic on wood' was a caption saying 'mirror on canvas' - I quote exactly.

Yup, that's right folks, I was looking at a mirror. Stuck on a bit of cloth. I wouldn't mind, but they hadn't even painted the edges of it.

However, this was just one of many beautiful pieces of modern 'art', closely followed by a canvas with a tear in the middle, and the black canvas with a brush hair and dust.

Annotated.

The only thing that annoys me is that the superb artist on the river bank, painting the bridge, doesn't earn a penny for most his stuff.

And his is better.