On really bad art

And not just any bad art - art bad enough that they wrap around the sphere of aesthetic integrity into masterpiece territory, and yet not so bad as to dive right back into the realm of trashy art. The topic for today is the MOBA - the Museum of Bad Art in Boston, Massachusetts - dedicated toward displaying the finest pieces of horrendous muck fished out of refuse piles all over the city. Browsing through the Wikipedia entry, I got a glimpse of a few of them and...let's just say one of the more arresting paintings looks like Andrew Jackson in a blue sun dress and saggy breasts, standing in a field of daisies against a vomit-yellow sky, an otherwise unremarkable blue chair glued to his ass. The title of the painting is "Lucy in a Field of Daisies," but it seriously looks like Andrew Jackson with a unibrow. The painting is so unintentionally hilarious that to intentionally achieve such a feat would take a comic of genius proportions.

I have to admit that I've taken quite a liking to a lot of pieces I saw. Depending on the cost, I would definitely purchase a piece or two of the slightly less gaudy ones and hang them on my living room wall. Or maybe I'd take the slightly more gaudy ones as well. I have a certain fondness for farce, for poking fun at otherwise serious institutions, and in a more serious way, for deconstruction. I don't really want to get into a whole thing about the definition of art, and what "good" art is - that's a dog chasing its own tail when it doesn't even know what to do with it once it's caught it. I do think, however, that there's great value in anything that can bring a little laughter into the world. I am exactly the type of person who would put up the most ridiculous, awful drivel up onto my walls for no other reason than to provoke a response from guests as they arrive. I like thought-provoking, spiritually dense, soaring pieces of art and music and writing well enough, but the notion of introducing a tacky piece of shit after a long train of beautiful works just tickles my fancy to no end. It's like serving jello after a meal of caviar and filet mignon.

My brain isn't functioning quite as well today - I think owing in part to not sleeping well last night - so I'm going to cut myself short, but I think the ultimate point I'd like to make for now is that I'm actually an incredibly tacky person. I have a fairly good sensibility for aesthetics when I want it, but I'm ultimately most drawn to anything with a high cheese-factor. It seems to be the most appropriate response I can find to an absurd universe.