No one likes everything. We explore. We discover. We winnow.
When young we are silly in our devotion to music. We pretend. We imitate our favorite artists. When Midnight Train to Georgia comes on the radio, I still turn into a Pip. Jimmy Buffet’s A Pirate Looks at Forty still touches me.
I am similarly affected when I encounter good and great art and poetry. Joseph Cornell, Seamus Heaney, Louise Nevelson, Louise Gluck, Giorgio de Chirico, William Carpenter, Dali. When I see a Duchamp that nails it for me, I have the urge to windmill my arm like Pete Townshend.
What if we let art and poetry sneak up on us like music? What if art came in 3 minute bursts and had a volume knob? What if?