Today I’m thankful for bad art.
I’ve covered most of my walls in art that is meaningful to me. I’ve got prints, photos, a couple of paintings, even some sculptural ceramic pieces. I keep the stuff that just doesn’t “fit” in a spare closet. Once something is mine I don’t get rid of it but I don’t always want to hang everything.
One particular piece was residing in the closet. It was a gift from the artist, who is also a very close relative. It isn’t like anything else I have and it was unexpected. The relative visited and happened to look in the closet, seeing the gift. They didn’t say anything but I could tell they were disappointed.
I felt terrible so I hung the damn thing in a fairly prominent place. It still didn’t match any of the things I’d bought but it was now displayed. The relative visited a few months later, saw the piece in its new place of honour and said “Wow, that is bad. I’ve done much better.” My jaw dropped. It’s still hanging because I don’t even know what to do with it now. I can’t make this stuff up.
The Museum of Bad Art is a wonderful idea. It is truly hilarious. I’ve considered sharing my unique piece with them. All rights to their material are theirs.
