No accounting for taste?

So, theoretically speaking...

Let's say you're an early-middle-aged woman on vacation, and you come across this art gallery. Light, airy, filled with gorgeous, colorful, elegant works of art. The pieces are beautifully arranged and lit, and there's lovely music filtering down. Everything about the place says "Stop and stay a while, admire the art, relax and enjoy yourself."

And the first question out of your mouth is, "How much is that rabbit in the window? I want something to bring home to Texas."

The painted-wood Easter rabbit.

The chintziest, kitschiest, cheesiest, most mass-produced thing in the gallery.

It's not even for sale; it's a decoration, probably something the owner picked up at Goodwill. And, of course, a mass-produced cutesy holiday decoration is so representative of Bisbee's vibrant art culture. But you love it enough to haggle for it excitedly, and eventually plonk down $30 for it, not even giving the rest of the gallery more than a cursory glance.

Have your tastes just fossilized around age 14? Are you the sort of person who keeps those tourist traps filled with kitschy artwork and figurines in business? How do you get to be past 30 without developing any appreciation whatsoever for art?

Don't get me wrong, I'm happy that she found something she liked, and I'm glad she's pleased with her purchase. It's just the choice of object combined with the sheer singlemindedness and effusive joy that's left me sort of...dumbfounded. Seriously, what gives?

No accounting for taste?

So, theoretically speaking...

Let's say you're an early-middle-aged woman on vacation, and you come across this art gallery. Light, airy, filled with gorgeous, colorful, elegant works of art. The pieces are beautifully arranged and lit, and there's lovely music filtering down. Everything about the place says "Stop and stay a while, admire the art, relax and enjoy yourself."

And the first question out of your mouth is, "How much is that rabbit in the window? I want something to bring home to Texas."

The painted-wood Easter rabbit.

The chintziest, kitschiest, cheesiest, most mass-produced thing in the gallery.

It's not even for sale; it's a decoration, probably something the owner picked up at Goodwill. And, of course, a mass-produced cutesy holiday decoration is so representative of Bisbee's vibrant art culture. But you love it enough to haggle for it excitedly, and eventually plonk down $30 for it, not even giving the rest of the gallery more than a cursory glance.

Have your tastes just fossilized around age 14? Are you the sort of person who keeps those tourist traps filled with kitschy artwork and figurines in business? How do you get to be past 30 without developing any appreciation whatsoever for art?

Don't get me wrong, I'm happy that she found something she liked, and I'm glad she's pleased with her purchase. It's just the choice of object combined with the sheer singlemindedness and effusive joy that's left me sort of...dumbfounded. Seriously, what gives?