When I was a teenager, my family took a trip to Washington DC. My dad and my brother snickered and chuckled throughout the Smithsonian Museum of Modern Art. Personally, I agreed with their assessment, but I wasn't so lacking in decorum as to let anyone know how "unsophisticated" I am.
I love art. But looking at what the hip-cool-with-it art connoisseurs gush about has me biting my lip so as not to giggle. Because quite frankly a lot of it looks like a drunk monkey was handed a paint brush.
At last, I have validation that those hip-cool-with-it art snobs are out of touch with reality: "Seven Year Old Girl's Painting in Top Art Gallery"
I'm really not surprised.
It shouldn't be too long before a seven year old receives a Pulitzer prize for literature.