Anyhoo, a friend just reintroduced me to that amazing word, I shall tell you about my life. Last week, my brother visited. As a part of this visit, we did lots of amazing things like riding dragons and fighting nazgul. I mean, we went to Camden markets, which are cool [italics are my own]. We also went to the British Museum. I want a Rosetta Stone mouse mat, even though I don't use a mouse for my laptop but one of those funny touchpad wotsamajigs.
Another thing we did was go to the Tate Modern. If you don't know what the Tate Modern is (where have you been? The Highlands of Yemen? I mean, come on people.), it's a modern art museum, an extension of the Tate Gallery, also in London, housed in a disused power plant.
I have to say, I quite enjoyed it. Some of the art was quite impressive and/or original. However, I found that 40-50 minutes was my limit for exposure to modern art, because after that, I started to get a bit irate. This is mainly to do with the fact that finding decent art in Tate Modern is like panning for gold. You might get a nugget now and again, but you mainly get pebbles. But more than that, it was the ridiculous descriptions which accompanied these paintings.
So, I decided, for my own, and hopefully, your amusement, to make my own painting. And then describe it. So here you go:
A line of poetry (or: I can come up with pretentious titles too), 2010
"The use of colour and chaotic forms show a playful rejection of society's bourgeois demands for conformity to structure. Its different layers, starting with large, broad strokes, to more detailed shapes created through air brushing have an almost narrative quality, showing a range of emotional expression from the soft round forms in blue and yellow, the aggressive violent strokes in blood red, to the small, repetitive shapes demonstrating concentration and perfectionism."
This one looks scarily similar to one that is actually in Tate Modern.
Also, my girlfriend visited the weekend just gone, only for too brief a time, but it was still nice. And we went to a really cool burger restaurant in Islington called Byron, if you ever want to go (it's on Upper Street). It was only half way through that burger that I realised it was my third in four days. How bad is that? Although one was vegetarian so doesn't really count.
Anyway, this is a long post. I should have divided it into two and posted each section a week apart, and then wouldn't have looked so bad.