You may have seen that Damien Hirst's shark has been turned down by the organisers of a Paris exhibition because it is reputedly decaying - it smells, it has turned green and a fin has fallen off. I say reputedly, because its owner, Charles Saatchi, insists that it is in fintastic - beg pardon, fantastic condition. Surely one good look, or smell, should confirm things one way or another. But presumably beauty is in the eye, or the nose, of the beholder.

This news provoked an interesting article in the Guardian, warning about the perils of collecting perishable art, and noting that conceptual art can be understood as a systematic attack on the culture of immortality: "When you buy such a work of art, it doesn't matter if you are as rich as Saatchi because what you are buying is an emblem of your own mortality."

Dead right, and I am determined from now on (I would be determined from earlier on if it were possible) to buy no more rotten sharks or heaps of stones or misshapen lumps of fat. These yokes and their creators are seriously getting me down, not to mention cluttering up the lounge. I don't care how famous they are and how much their stuff is worth, but I have had it with Evan Escence and E. Phemera, they will just have to find new patrons elsewhere. Instead, I am going to keep an eye out in the galleries for the seriously long-lasting, the solid and the permanent. I want to be surrounded by emblems of endurance, longevity, and eternity, cheerful stuff that will not be throwing me dirty looks every minute of the day, decaying all over the carpet and reminding me of the dreary passage of time. If the only thing that fits the bill is old furniture, then so be it. At least the stink of woodworm killer around the house will make a change from formaldehyde. Right. Listen to this: "Her exhibition demonstrated a unique tension between chaos and order." That's what the Turner Prize judges said about nominee Tomoko Takahashi's pile of junk on show at the Saatchi Gallery.

Unique tension between chaos and order. Don't pretend you can't understand that. It isn't very difficult. It's all around you, all the time.

Last Monday, Takahashi reduced young children to tears when she reneged on a promise to give away the sports equipment which made up her outdoor exhibit, Tennis Court Piece, in a park in Hackney, east London. Takahashi had said that poor children could dismantle and take away the bits and pieces, principally tennis racquets and medicine balls, when the exhibition ended. But when she was nominated for the Turner Prize, the exhibit became collectible, and it was removed in a van.

According to the Times report, Aaron Quilligan (9) was very upset: "I don't think they should have told us they were going to give us some stuff and then just change their minds at the last minute. I've been waiting here for ages to see what I can get and now we are getting nothing."

Jacob Bogson (8) was equally annoyed: "I've been waiting for this for days now. I've made sure my mum brought me here in time straight from school." And Janet Warner (50) was upset for her daughter Freya (10): "I'm a little sorry for Freya. She was wanting some tennis racquets. I think it would have been a nice way to end the exhibition."

Look. Chaos and order, remember? Unique tension, OK? Perhaps some day these young children will appreciate their early lesson in art appreciation. It isn't about waiting around expectantly to "see what I can get", young Master Quilligan. Oh no. It's about life, and what you can't get, and about minds being changed whenever an artist cares.

Young Master Bogson, who seemed to believe that the difficult time constraints he placed on his mother would make all the difference, has also learned a little about the artistic imperative. And Mrs Janet Warner now appreciates that artists do not concern themselves with "nice ways" to end an exhibition.

Much has been learned about modern art and artists. Good girl Tomoko.

P.S. The sports equipment which made up Tennis Court Piece was not bought - no tainted commerce in the art world - but donated free by people in Stoke Newington, north London. Now it's a valuable possession - but transformed, transfigured by Takahashi's art, and ready to be sold off in pieces, if necessary.

bglacken@irish-times.ie