I spent my Sunday wandering around our nation’s capitol. I saw the museums and the monuments – nothing in depth, but everything briefly. The one place that I took my time was the National Gallery of Art.
I don’t claim to know anything about art. I know that I like it. I like to look at it. I like to have it on my walls. But sometimes I can’t remember where Van Gogh was from, or what genre Rembrandt falls into, or the difference between Monet and Manet. And they’re even the famous ones! But despite my lack of knowledge, I know when I like something.
Here’s the thing about art: discerning people are not going to like everything. And not everyone is going to like any one particular piece. As I meandered through the maze of galleries today, I was struck with how some pieces caught my eye and drew me in, and others repelled me. I don’t know many people who would want a mural-sized painting of a naked Daniel in the Lion’s Den hanging in their dining room. Or a bland landscape of a murky ocean and boring shore displayed in their entryway.
But what do I know? I only know when I, Annie, like something. And so I bought this Charles Rennie Mackintosh print today (he signed his name “Chas” in the corner – I feel like we are close and personal friends), and plan on hanging it somewhere in my future Nashville home. Because I love it.