What ever happened to taste? Has the appreciation of classic grace and beauty gone from everyday life? It feels as though everywhere I turn these days I’m assaulted by a barrage of images, print, and noise. The message smacks me rather than beckons. In your face, dude! (And often in your ears at deafening decibels).

Would Georgia O’Keefe’s work be overlooked if it were new today? Would Michelangelo’s David be considered boring for its simple portrayal of a lone man? Are there any budding Chopins – and if there are, can anyone hear them? Does an Eames chair pale beside a vibrating, massaging, giant flat-screen home theater seat?

Turn off that damned CNN. Play me a simple song sung by a soloist and tastefully accompanied by a piano, and let my eyes wander out the window, across the pond to the still woods as the sun goes down.

Okay, so I’m an old fart.


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