As evidenced elsewhere on this site (i.e. the piece on Marsyas and in the blog) I had my inaugural visit to Tate Modern this week. I'm going to try for once to not impose my views on the world, so first of all it's worth saying that this is my own personal perspective, my own feelings about the place - I'm not going to denigrate other people for liking things I don't - but then, nor would I expect other people to castigate me for liking stuff they don't like. Of course, that's a rarity - most people seem to feel a need to inflict their views on other people, tell them what they have to like or not like, and if the people possess opposing views, then each ends up saying that the other is pretentious, pseudy, or just plain bloody-minded.

  Anyway, I'd initially gone to Tate Modern with the single avowed intention of seeing Marsyas, the latest installation by Anish Kapoor. I've absolutely no idea why this one attracted me as much as it did, but it was utterly worthwhile going, just to see that. I've still no idea why it appeals as much, but it still does, and I'd happily go and see it again, even if the info sheet that goes with it redlines my bullshit detector.

  As it was the first time I'd been to this particular gallery, I went for a wander round the rest. And while it does have some works that I love - Henry Moore, Barbara Hepworth, Georges Braque and several others, the huge majority of "works" hold so little appeal for me, it's quite unbelievable.

  It's not that I'm some kind of art traditionalist, who thinks proper art stopped somewhere near Rembrandt or Titian - in fact out of preference I would probably say that "modern" artists are the ones I prefer. I've adored exhibitions I've seen by Andreas Gursky, Bridget Riley, Louise Bourgeois, Jacob Epstein, and many others. However, I do also enjoy a wander around the National Gallery, Tate Britain, Manchester City Gallery, and several others along the way. But I find that items by "artists" like Tracey Emin, Damien Hirst, and many others simply leave me utterly cold, and more than occasionally wondering "what the feck is the point of that?"

   To me, a display case of various sea-shells isn't "art" - I can go to any seaside souvenir store and see the same thing. A looped video of a still-life bowl of fruit slowly decomposing isn't "art" - nature programmes on TV did it fifteen years ago.

  One thing I love about galleries though, is to listen to other people spouting about what the piece in front of them represents. Sometimes there's an unbearable urge to walk up to them, tap them on the shoulder and say "excuse me, I hope you don't mind me saying this, but you really are talking the utmost bollocks". My brother would do exactly that- but he's less subtle than me. I love seeing the visitors trying to find deeper meaning in some piece when their visceral gut reaction to it is "it's shit". Michael Marshall Smith once described a piece of "art" as a discussion piece, created for a reaction, even if the reaction is "What the FUCK is that? It's vile. Let's burn it."

  What surprises me more than anything else is that people going round galleries also now seem to leave on their mobile phones. I'll admit it, that annoys me. I don't mind someone sending a quiet text message - so long as the phone isn't clicking or bleeping with every keypress, and is set so it doesn't beep at "OI! YOU'VE JUST RECEIVED A TEXT MESSAGE! OI! OI!" sound levels when the reply is received. I DO mind however, when people are wandering round the gallery, talking into their mobile, telling Tracy about the night they've had before visiting this weird/boring/fantastic/shit place with their partner/parents/art class/tutor. I suppose these people could have been part of a performance art piece, entitled "crowd annoyance" or some such. I doubt it - that would actually probably be some kind of frivolous exposition of art, not "proper" art at all.

   Hmmm - I wonder if I could organise that, and get a grant for it?