Today X and I ventured to Moderna Museet. It's the centre for contemporary arts, which - for the noble sum of 80 SKr - allows you to enjoy le art.

First, there's an exhibition there by Clay Ketter. I must say it's been a long time since I've felt absolutely nothing about an artist's work. Nothing. I'm not exaggerating or joking in the least, when I say his work gives me less than watching paint dry. I'd rather be angry but no.

Speaking of which, there was a room which did give me an awful lot. Ann Böttcher had through her work "Den svenska serien" (("The Swedish series".)) pinned a lot of different printed, typed and drawn paper items onto four walls, all about the fir tree. It probably sounds insanely boring and was anything but that; copied paper, annotated, together with insanely detailed drawn trees (in pale black lead), a yarn square in the middle of the room reminiscent of looking into a forest from above - yet at the same time like a collection of algae in different colours - together with Swedish nazi postcards ("Have a Nordic Christmas!" glaring from the top with swastika snowflakes falling all around - was like looking into a deep fascination of how the fir tree affects people living around it, how it is used, all in serious, old, new and funny contexts. It was splintered and stuck in my mind. A bunch of the drawings are seen here.

X really liked Eugenio Dittborn, especially this work (on the right-hand side of this text).

I found his work enthralling, but something that struck me really hard was seeing Mondrian and Picasso's pieces; I've never been a real fan of cubism but Mondrian's pieces reminded me of my waking up to modern art. At the same time, Picasso - whom I've never been a true fan of - also shook me from my philistine sleep, so seeing some of his works was like seeing a picture of an old friend in a way.

At the same time, Paul McCarthy had two video installations running. I saw a bit of "Family Tyranny/Cultural Soup", where a man goes through pages in what seemed like a phone book, leaving what seemed like blood traces, groaning and moaning in a quite tormented way, while adding flour at times. Grainy film. Good.

From the early 20th century, pieces like "Space-force Construction" by Lioubov Serguéà¯evna Popova can impress me, in the right amounts. Too much and I spew. That cannot be said for van Gogh, my fave painter, hands down. No Vincent at Moderna Museet though!

And we also checked out "Reality Revisited: Photography from the Moderna Museet Collection", appx. 300 framed photographs from the 1970s. Really interesting at times, really dull other times. Some masterful pictures were evident, and most I really enjoyed were simple cuts from reality - quite far from the David LaChapelle exhibition that X and I visited last year.

All in all - a nice visit, although I was utterly arted-out afterwards, longing for home. After a quick stroll through sunny Stockholm, X and I came home, made veggie burgers, watched "Veronica Mars" and took a nap.