Art is not Art unless it speaks and is a pleasure to someone. In days of old, artists painted to please others. One could not produce a piece of trash calling it art and have others go overly enthusiastic about it. Shakespeare and Dickens wrote to entertain and please, but wrote well. Things have changed since those times of Michael Angelo and Monet.
In modern times, with diluting our responsibilities and culpability, anyone can produce anything and call it Art. I refuse to give examples lest I offend the sensibilities of some. You know who you are and you know your crimes against our senses.
With the advent of mediocrity, we have accepted and praised worthless “pieces of art” based on the idiotic notion that whatever one produces is alright since it came out of them. There is lots that comes out of us that is not art, just merely brain rot.
There is a conscious recognition in all of us when we see garbage presented as art. Yet, no one dares say it. We will be accused of having the audacity to criticize some degenerate who never had a single admirable idea in their slothful head, causing them, great harm. Assaulting our sensory faculties with refuse of a lazy mind is not art, it is what it really is, refuse.
A young woman of 8 made a beautiful mobile with paper and cotton, with rainbow colors. Her classmate offered paying her 0.25c for making another for him. The agreement was set upon and she returned the next day with another one. But, this was rejected since it was poorly done.
The audacious child, accused the boy of reneging on his promise . When asked, the mother declared that it truly was awful, but would never “hurt her feelings” by divulging that.
What did that mother teach that child? Simply that whatever she made, good or bad, well done or poorly done, was to be appreciated by her audience. And if it is rejected, then, the patrons are the ones at fault not her shoddy work.
I rest my case.