It turned out, as a woman hastened over with a leaflet, perhaps in case I was considerably richer than I looked, to be this exhibition: The Big Blue. AKA art influenced by the sea. And it was - OK. There was a Picasso, that I wasn't really fussed about, and a very good Bacon, and a Courbet that was not conducive to the idea of a nice paddle even to one who spent childhood holidays on the Yorkshire coast, but frankly it was all about the shark.
The shark - was a pickled shark. I will admit not to knowing a great deal about contemporary art. I like some, dislike others. It seems to me that shark 1 (The Physical Impossibility of Death in the Mind of Someone Living) is exciting because of the idea, and I think that it is a good idea. Weird, yes, but interesting. But when what is exciting is the idea, repeating the idea is not exciting. If picked shark 1 is art, pickled shark 2 seems to me essentially an anatomy exhibit. Anatomy exhibits can be interesting; I enjoy spending a rainy lunchtime looking at jars of dead sea creatures in the natural history museum. But they don't really feel like art.
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