Going back to the Tate Modern after a couple of years was actually quite disappointing. Modern art doesn't speak to me like it once did, back in the days that I admired the work of Sarah Lucas and Damien Hirst. No, not anymore do I spend more than five seconds looking at an individual 'work of art', it has just gotten old and seems to bore me. After half an hour of walking around the various exhibitions and not laying eye on anything of much interest I headed to the Tate Modern shop, located near the turbine hall entrance, to perhaps pick up a postcard so I didn't have to go away completely disheartened. As I walked towards the postcard rack I passed books and clothing and art equipment for sale, I lifted my head and looked back in the direction I was going and made direct eye contact with Batman Begins/Dark Knight actor Cillian Murphy. I saw fear in his eyes. Fear of the tall, clumsy, messy haired boy walking by him? No, but probably fear of the modern art freaks that surrounded him, his child and his wife. It took a few seconds to register what I had just witnessed, by which time I was so far into the shop of overpriced merchandise that it was far too late to say anything to him. I looked back but Mr Murphy was already headed for the exit, taking some sunglasses from his pocket and hiding his Hollywood fame behind black shades. The highlight of going to the Tate Modern was not the art, but the Batman fighting, zombie evading, sun igniting Irish actor Cillian Murphy.
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