Tell you Mona what I wanna do

I had a great time at MONA, the spectacular Museum of Old and New Art (not this), which is situated on a goodly part of a peninsular jutting into Hobart's Derwent river, in the middle of working class suburbs.

I loved the entrance - a door framed with glitsy aluminium tucked away at one end of an unused tennis court. Cheeky. I loved taking a glass elevator down to the massive underground cavern that houses MONA and stepping out to behold soaring sandstone walls. The museum is three stories high and at different points you can see floors and staircases cutting across the space, creating a kind of angular architectural abstract art of its own.

I enjoyed many of the artworks. They let you take photos too, which freed me from being a passive observer and meant I could wander around with a compositional eye. There were cool experiences - big bean bags to fall into, a quirky steampunk sort of movie, a talking maze, one giant rock with an optical illusion and another with mad moving parts. There were some pleasing individual pieces - a Howard Arkley painting, a dead bird surrounded by sepia strands, brightly coloured geometric paintings, an Arthur Boyd, cheeky satirical referencing of Australian art.

Much of it was macabre, violent or perverse. Far too much genitalia, even before getting to the innumerable elegantly sculpted vaginas (vulvas actually). I don't like looking at this sort of stuff, although sometimes I will if there's a composition to be admired or a serious point to be appreciated. It didn't shock me though - I already knew that life was dark, distorted and perverse. Nor was my faith rattled - Christianity is all about facing up to the brevity of our earthly life and the darkness of our secret deeds.

Though I loved it, I have to be honest and say that when one of my friends asked if I'd seen anything beautiful, I scrambled for an answer.