So, you have seen the study, wine sommeliers/connoisseurs (many paid thousands to hundreds of thousands to infinity for their skillz) possibly (I qualify, since I think scientific method, by definition, requires replication) can not even sense white versus red wine? Forget nuance, acidity, tannins, medieval toffee/toffee-ass/cat-toffee-ass undertones, whatever glossary of palate, they can’t taste red from white.
Red from white.
So this should really set off your BS meter, right?
Does a shark in formaldehyde titled The Physical Impossibility of Death in the Mind of Someone Living (we need a new high bar for pretentious titles, “untitled” ain’t cutting it, folks, not even for poets) that sells for $8 million, give or take (I suggest take, but I can’t really say)?
A lot of people scoffed at the artiste, Hirst. Many said, “I could do that.”
He replied, “But you didn’t, did you?”
Touche.
Other art you “don’t get”?
I saw that in Soho when he first showed it. Yeah, no one else did it, but that in and of itself doesn’t make it interesting to me. No one ever said “goat paddles wag my engine string” either. (oh wait -someone did.)