Call me unsophisticated, but I have never cared for modern art.  Not only do I not “get” it; my soul derives no pleasure from it.  The pieces feel bizarre, disjointed and Godless; some even offensive.  If one confesses to not liking or understanding them they are pooh poohed and dismissed as unimaginative or prudish.  For me, art stops at Impressionism.  The use of light illumines my heart.  We have a mall in Dallas full of “priceless” pieces of “art.”  I can remember seeing them since I was a kid.  And I have always remembered something my daddy said once as we were walking by one of the installations.  There is a group of metal, two story men mechanized to perpetually hammer.  I have never cared for them and as we passed Daddy said, “If I did that they’d call me crazy.  Someone else does it and they get a million bucks.”  I thought he was so right.  Sadly, the art world seems to be going more and more modern.  The picture here was taken at the same mall and it’s the most normal looking thing I’ve ever seen.  It still doesn’t move me but I liked the lights.  It reminds me of a webcam.  Who knows what it’s supposed to be.  Frankly I don’t care.  I tend to agree with the Swedish feminist writer Ellen Key who said, “The more horrifying this world becomes, the more art becomes abstract.”  And she died in 1926.  I suppose every era has had its critics.  They say the only constant is change.  I certainly hope so.