Bleak.

Let me set the scene. I decided I was going to go for a nice walk today. A nice, virtual walk on Google maps from HEC (the university) to my apartment on Avenue de Kent (which is said to be about a ten-minute walk but by my standards, that's probably twenty-minutes).

I was quite enjoying my walk, there was a lot of greenery and nice houses. Eventually, after a number of clicks, I arrived at Avenue de Kent.

Looks quite green!

And then, I looked back to see how far I had 'walked'.

Not bad, not bad.

And then I turned onto my street.

Sadface.

Thanks Google Maps, thanks. I despise Winter.

'Art' and Afremov.

One of my main aims in life is to become a cultured gent (although without the moustache preferably. In fact, scratch that, I would carry one off very well). However, one of the stumbling blocks I have encountered on the road to 'snobbery' is a real aversion to Modern 'Art', mainly because I think most of it is a contrived pile of pish. I group most of the pieces of modern 'art' I have had the misfortune to encounter into two categories.

Group One: THIS IS NOT ART.

To get a true sense of what I insinuate with this group, all you need to do is look up either Tracey Emin (whose face has to win 'The Most Terrifying Face of All Time' award) or anything that has been nominated for the Turner Prize. I mean, how is a bed, art? Does it mean I could show my bed off and be awarded with an exhibition? DOES IT?!

Tracey Emin's bed.

Apparently, the bed is to symbolize Emin's intimacy with the world in regards to her private life. To me, all it shows is she's an untidy, lazy bastard. She also used worn pants in this piece. I rest my case.

Group Two: A FIVE YEAR OLD COULD PAINT THIS.

This group annoys me more than Tracey Emin. The painting below was crafted by Mark Rothko and is simply titled 'Orange and Yellow'. Now, I'm not being funny but I genuinely could recreate this. In fact, a drawing of a stick man has more artistic integrity than this. But the suckerpunch to this absurd piece of 'art' (if it can be called that)? It sold for $86 million very recently...

You just can't rid the world of stupidity it seems. And you know what, my cat could paint this, that is how much I think of it. A true waste of canvas.

However, this blog was not just a rant (Yes, you may wipe your brow in relief now). It seems that I may have overcome the stumbling block previously mentioned as I have recently discovered the work of Leonid Afremov and I am in love. His paintings are true art. They're pretty, they're colourful, they tell a story and they invoke emotions. Isn't this what art should be like? Not like the crown colour chart above?

No caption required.

Perhaps he's not as successful as these other artists because his paintings portray real life or perhaps they could be described as 'pedestrian' but alas, that is the world most of us live in and most of us are pedestrians, peddling our way through normality. Simply put, they are beautiful and if galleries were filled with this sort of thing, rather than Tracey Emin's disgustingly stained bed sheets, I'm sure they would attract a bigger audience.

The only thing that worries me about this though is that having a favourite artist might be the harbinger of impending maturity or adulthood. I sincerely hope not anyway.

Shit just got montREAL.

So, five weeks today, I've somehow got to leave the family that I have spent everyday of the last twenty years with at Glasgow Airport, make it to Heathrow, the busiest airport on the globe and then fly to Montreal, Canada, a country I've never been to before in my life and on top of all that somehow,  mature and learn how to become a responsible adult during a seven hour flight.

Forgive my scepticism but even I have no faith in myself.

The thing, is when people ask for my advice, I will gladly give it and generally, I'm quite good at it. I like to help people. But I have a confession to make. It's all bullshit. I make all this stuff up. I don't have a clue and now, I'm paying for it, like a metaphorical Peter who cried wolf (or something). And this is not about believing in yourself, oh no, this is about knowing your limitations. And I have many.

When I was in school and people would say, 'Oh I'd love to go on exchange, that is my thing', I was the person who was convinced she would never want to do that sort of thing because that ain't my thing. Now look where I am. Why did I choose this course?

Don't get me wrong, I'm so grateful for this amazing opportunity, I appreciate what it will do for me and I know that there's a 95% chance I'll get there and never want to leave but I'm a home bird. I like my creature comforts and I like familiarity. I'm not an adventurer or an explorer. Unfortunately, the one trait I inherited from my mother was the capacity to think of the worst case scenario of everything and stress. Lots of stress. MAHOOSIVE AMOUNTS OF STRESS. Am I allowed to worry about these things or am I just being silly? I can't tell.

However, I will digress from the anxiety attacks for a moment to share with you all, possibly the most absurd and disturbing thing I've seen in a while.

www.greatwallofvagina.co.uk

The first impressions formulating in your mind when you read that link are probably correct. This guy makes plaster casts of woman's vaginas to celebrate diversity and prove to women that all vaginas are different and you shouldn't be ashamed of your own. Personally, I think you've got too much time on your hands if you are worried about that sort of thing.

On the whole, I don't really mind the actual idea. I guess it could empower a very small minority but seriously, SELLING THE STUFF? I do not want to walk into a house that has casts of vagina just hanging on the wall, minding its own business. And I'm not a prude, I just think it's really strange. Especially, the gold cast one... 

Also, I wish to point out I don't actively seek these things out, I found it in Closer or something (Problem page FTW).