Thus began my lifelong disappointment with "modern art" at an impressionable age...
Yeah... No thanks. I'll take Bob Ross with his 2" house brush. That's just magic.
Actually, art is almost nothing to me. It's part of that stuff a woman does to make a home... Entirely out of my ken. I have been in this cabin for maybe 7 years now, and the only pictures on the wall are ones that various women hung up for me and I left alone. Just ain't my gig.
Not that I don't know beauty when I see it. Lilly just made me a wolf clan beaded patch - And it is extraordinary - small beads in exquisite detail, as near to perfect as any hoomin could do. It is definitely going on my dress leathers, and will probably be on the throat guard, front and center.
Likewise, a deuce coupe with the rear fenders widened and fat , putting an almost female shape to that car, much the same as a well made hawg... Or a regal skyjacked Chevy coming around the corner or hoggin through a mudhole... Beautiful.
Or climbing on an outside book edge 500 ft off the ground - The fear and exposure heightening the experience - and the magnificent view, so glorious, and so rare - You cannot know it without climbing that edge.
So I get beauty... I do. Hanging it on the wall is what I don't get. Never did. But women do and that's good on em. I can't hardly tell what it is that they do, and would be hard pressed to point it out... But it's the thing that makes a house a home.