Continuing with museum fever, I went to Tate Modern. Although I can certainly appreciate modern art, sometimes I don’t like the ambiguous nature and the debatable (mis)interpretation of it. Guess you can call me a Classicist. In most cases, if I see it and I can understand it, then I can feel it and appreciate it. I’m sure my statement may offend, but that’s why art is so subjective.
If I walk into a darkened room, with 2 film projectors going, and one of those black and white reels show a shapeless, naked man, wearing a pig mask and boxing gloves, pummelling himself in the face, I really can’t constitute this as art. It seems like I’m not alone, neither could other people, who like me, spun on their heels, getting out of there the moment they walked in.
