Marc Quinn: Alannah, Buck, Catman, Chelsea, Michael, Pamela and Thomas

I felt like a complete perv wandering around Marc Quinn's latest exhibition at White Cube - must have been the giant tits, and cocks and vaginas on display. But I seemed to be rather in the minority in liking it, it has to be said. I liked the way it takes classical and religious sculptural constructs and established dialogues about the creation, beauty, sexual identity and defined sexual roles but turns them on their head - it's done in a brilliantly erudite way, so you're made to think about social, cultural and individual ideas of beauty - and how warped that can get. the transgender porn star couple (Buck and Alannah) stand moulded in silver holding hands in an Adam and Eve like pose; a pregnant man (formerly a woman) stands Virgin Mary like, cradling his stomach, his head demurely lowered, with a gentle smile on his lips; Catman's head - felinely tattooed and whiskered , rests on a plinth like a roman deity - gloriously hissing. but are these images really a warped replacement of older icons or deities? of course not, but it's an interesting thing to play around with.

.
The body as canvas is a remarkable thing - moulded and shaped by it's owners (is that even what they are?) as these very sculptures have been. it's people making art out of themselves. if indeed it is art. it's difficult to say whether Quinn thinks so. the fluidity of sexual identity and the mutation of self to align the inner sexual identity with the outer. Yes, it's a freak show of sorts, but it's also a weird reflection of the times we live in, where grotesque extremes are becoming commonplace, more than commonplace - held up for our viewing pleasure.

.

the only thing i hated were the massive, blow-up images of orchids, but that's because i loathe them as a flower, i think they are unbelievable naff. still, i did appreciate their technicolour relevance here - the naturalness of their bi-genderness: labial, clitoral and phallic all at once. if they can do it, why can't we?

.

Marc Quinn White Cube, N1 (020 7930 5373, whitecube.com) and runs until June 26.

I H.E.A.R.T Amsterdam

although i wasn't exactly fleeing London, exactly, i was sort of side stepping it for Valentine's weekend. a move which in the end turned out to be rather fortuitous, as a new love blossomed in foreign lands. the Netherlands, in fact. ho ho. now, this might sound quite naff, but i sort of think my relationships with cities are a bit like with men - Paris and London are lifetime loves of mine for example, Dublin a failed marriage and (very) messy break up, Venice a familiar lover, frequently revisited, and Vienna and Berlin memorable flings that somehow never led anywhere. you get the picture. anyway, a weekend trip to a new city always feels a bit like a first date. you know a bit about them, people have given you their opinions, you may have seen pictures (films even) and if you're interest is caught, you want to get to know them more. such was it with Amsterdam. all i can say is this: my heart is lost. totally. how could it NOT be? It's like someone thought: "what are all the things that Bea loves, and why don't we put them all in ONE PLACE FOR HER?". There may not be anything original in what i am about to say, but still, it's what i thought. first up, cycling. i love it, but i hate it in London. i'm terrified - it's like a death trap and i frequently find myself stuck the wrong side (the left) of a 4 lane road when i want to turn down a little lane to the right. but in Amsterdam, cyclists seem to have priority and motorists are suitably cordial and respectful. SERIOUSLY: it's cycling nirvana. the cycle lanes are wide and never fade out at tricky traffic spots only to reappear after a giant crossroad, the bicycles are beautiful upright ones in bright colours - none of this leaning forward business that i hate. and everywhere is so FLAT - hurrah! no need for gear changes or putting in too much effort, which means several things, the main one being sartorial: dresses, high heels and umbrella holding are all easily accommodated, nay celebrated! and no need for unsightly helmets - yay! second: vintage shops everywhere in central Amsterdam... EVERYWHERE: on every street, shop corner and alley (almost). it was like i'd died and gone to secondhand heaven. plenty of things purchased including a very cool black and white 1950s evening dress. thirdly, richly coloured, enormous bulbed and CHEAP tulips - one of my most adored flowers. 50 sold for 10 Euros. normally i pay £5 for 5. FIVE. which is tantamount to daylight robbery. Fourthly, mint tea - boy they know how to serve fresh mint tea - in tall glasses with stems and stems and leaves and leaves poking out the top. and everyone drinks it all the time - bliss. fifthly, sweets. boiled, mints, lollipops - you name it, it comes with EVERY bill. for the sweet-toothed, sugar-craving me this is like food porn. i can't get enough. sixthly, hundreds of low ceilinged, atmospheric, wood paneled, effortlessly cool and INDEPENDENT cafes, and no, not the 'special' sort, just lovely cafes serving delicious food and cakes, which have their own characters and who would probably laugh in your face if you said "skinny, mochacino extra hot with a vanilla shot". and lastly TALL MEN. i have a well documented, much commented upon weakness for them, and let me tell you, Amsterdam is FULL OF THEM. o my god. i was like a pervert on the loose, ogling, drooling and generally almost crashing my bike into the canal or walking into lamposts shamelessly gawping at the armies of slim, toned giants wandering about, manipulating their long limbs with true grace. Apparently the Dutch are the second tallest nation in the world. whether this is true or not i don't know, but good god i loved it. LOVED IT. So, will i be going on a second date with Amsterdam? Hell, yeah.