Degree Show '06

So I woke up today with an immense hangover after a night of enjoyable misadventures the day before. Unfortunately, I'd promised a friend that I'd go to the degree show at the art college (happens every year - it's only on for a week, but I always make sure I have a wee look round) - I was really hoping he'd have forgotten about it, as I felt fit for nothing but sleep and perhaps a little soft groaning, but he turned up as we'd drunkenly agreed, and we dutifully plodded round the college trying to keep our bleary eyes wide open to see what we could see.

I try to catch the show every year, because (a) it's free, and (b) it makes me feel like I'm all cultured and that. Wandering about the place with a head like lead, I came to a couple of conclusions - (1) most art students are not going to be great artists, and (2) you can't openly laugh at crap hung on walls when the artist is sitting in a chair in the same room as you. Pretending to read a book and feign disinterest at your reaction to their work.

There was some great stuff there. The fact that it managed to penetrate my hangover was testament to how much I liked it - more of which anon. But there was an awful lot of awful stuff. This sums it up - we walked into one "space" which had nothing but a series of series of pictures hung on the walls. Each picture was a photo of the back of a plate. I kid you not. After four years of studying art, this person's best effort when it came to displaying everything they'd learned was a series of pictures of the other side of plates. It moved my soul not a jot.

There was also a lot of "issue art". Art trying to make a statement. I should really have capitalised the "s" in that last sentence. Sledgehammer art, telling you something you already know - apparently, big corporations are bad, and have far too much power in the world: war is also bad, and people shouldn't be doing it - poverty is also not recommended, and someone should really do something about it. Maybe paint a big meaningful picture or something.

I think when you're in you're late teens and early twenties you have nothing to say. Angst? Join the club. Railing against the inequalities of the world - yeah, I did that too, but I didn't have access to paint and papier mache like you did.

Anyway - there was some good stuff to be seen. The highlight of the whole show for me was walking into a room with huge, semi-abstract bird sculptures in it. They were almost just blobs with legs, but their form totally captured the tremulousness of a tiny bird that just flits about, steals a nut from a birdtable and is gone. Walking into a room with those wee tiny birds made into a huge physical presence was great - it kind of took (rook?) me down to their level, and - weirdly - made me realise how far apart we are by bringing me closer to their scale.

Not sure if it's frowned upon or not, but I'm going to make it my mission to photograph those fake birds.

Beetlemania

So it seems I've got myself a new pet. I think I'm going to call him Eduardo. He's a little beetle who's taken up residence in my bathroom.

He's been there for the past week or so, no bigger than my fingernail, and he seems happy enough just beetling about. Truth be told, the first time I made his acquaintance I did consider scooping him up and flushing him, but it somehow seemed a little unfair. After all, I'm a lot bigger than he is, and he seemed to be having fun.

I'm not a big fan of insects usually, but I'm finding myself quite liking having little Eduardo around. Spiders are quite sinister, and flying insects are just annoying, but beetles - particularly little ones - are kind of like the cadillac of the insect world. All black and shiny as if they've spent all day polishing themselves. Cockroaches are too segmented and chitinous for my liking, but beetles have a simple solidity to them that I almost admire. Most insects seem somehow dirty, but I imagine a beetle - and Eduardo in particular - could wear a top hat and a cane with a certain aplomb. He could even pull off a waxed moustache and a French accent with a measure of style.

I'm a little bit worried about him, though. I have no idea what beetles eat - he hasn't touched the thimble of smoked salmon and caviar I left out for him the other day. I love the fact that my shiny shiny tiled bathroom appeals to him as a place of residence - it must be like a huge linoleum adventure playground for him - but lately he's started freezing as soon as I go in and turn the light on, as if I'm spoiling his fun.

Now that I think about it, it's very possible he could be dead.