Tate Haulage

Yesterday, Hannah and I went to see the Turner Prize shortlist at Tate Britain. And what a load of nonsense.

VE had a poke around the Turner Prize last year and felt equally baffled. However, last year at least VE was accompanied by Big P and his art teacher aunt - who was able to shed some kind of interpretation on the goings on.

But this year, well, it really is astonishing. That said, I enjoy looking at the Turner Prize for two reasons. 1) It fascinates me how disparate the four artists are from one another - how on earth do the judges reach their short list? and 2) My favourite bit is always the comments board at the end, where visitors can scribble on cards - and create a much more artistic statement than anything the pretentious art school graduates ever could.

This year we had Mark Titchner and his migraine inducing psychedelic swirls; Rebecca Warren and her plastic boxes full of bits of fluff; Tomma Abts and her admittedly quite appealing 3D canvases; and Phil Collins and his video interview (now, how's that art?). Tomma got our vote.

Apparently, next year, the Turner Prize will be taken away from Tate Britain and up pto Tate Liverpool in a bid to make the Turner Prize less London centric. And a good thing too. It'll free up some space for some real talent.

(Apologies for sounding ignorant - but having read the cards at the end of the exhibit, I'm clearly not alone). Wheee!