The Reminder.

Going on vacation gives me the picture-perfect excuse to see as much art as possible. Incase you've been wondering what I've been up to since I dropped off the face of the earth, I've rounded up a laundry-list of the art that's mattered to me over the past few days.

Richard Avedon's black-and-whites of Rudolf Nureyev, Bob Dylan and Edie Sedgwick were almost the end of me. The Foam exhibit, which was the first major retrospective since his death, was probably the best thing I've seen since hopping across the pond.

Alain Jacquet and Gerard Fromanger informed me that in France, the pop was very, very political. Take that, Warhol. In other political "news", while Obama was chatting with Mr. Harper, I was staring at Francis Picabia's L'adoration Du Veau and thinking that it sums up the Harper prime-ministry quite well.

George Grosz's work from Ecce Homo was the most fun I've ever had being sad. Joseph Beuys used felt insulation to protect his art's inhabitants from the noise and dangers of the outside world. And I have to say, I felt safe.

Daniel Buren proved that stripes are always in season, Jeff Koons Ushered In Banality, and Gilbert and George took a dump on religion.

And at the Palais De Tokyo I signed wavers, played with electricity and found out that the United States is controlling my every move through electro-waves in Alaska. Five dollars says Sarah Palin is involved.