Barney and I went to an art gallery in London. It was like a big factory. But inside was art. But the art wasn't paintings. It was things off the street. Things surrounded by lots of white. White. Is it the white that makes it art? There were signs too. Little signs which made it seem so much better. If the signs weren't there you might have thought the art was just a thing off the street. The signs seemed to be the art too. We were glad we went but Barney felt he wouldn't go again.