Bad Art

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.

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