Dear Modern Art,
To be entirely frank- I absolutely adore you. You’re definitely an acquired taste (but who isn’t?)I have the fondest memories of strolling through exhibits and considering your form and many meanings. My affection for you began in middle school with my first visit to an art museum and has not waned over the years. How could it possibly? Sometimes you’re contained on a canvas, sometimes paint splattered on a wall, sometimes in sculpture, and sometimes, you have no form at all and it’s entirely splendid. The best things are unpredictable and you are one of those things.
Whereas older art is beautiful, you have a different charm in and of yourself. I could never dispute the fact that paintings by the Old Masters are traditionally stunning but art like you has a different charm. You are charming in your surprise. In your ability to shapeshift. In the way, you can have a multitude of meanings, one meaning, or no set meaning at all.
You are, as a genre, made up of the unique peculiarities from the artists who create you. Humanity is chaotic and messy and so entirely beautiful and as a result, so are you. You are the epitome of what art should be- something which is not just viewed but felt. Art should be experienced and you allow your audience to do just that.
You have endless possibilities that are only limited by the imaginations of your creators and audience which is the aspect of you which I adore about you the most. Those who view you can see you as the meaning of life or the absence of it as well as anything and everything in between. It is this artistic freedom to be seen as what your viewers want you to be seen as, as what your viewers need you to say, which makes you all the more beautiful in my eyes. You are empathetic and truly human art which is why I love you so.
Yours Forever and Always,