Art at thrift stores is usually awful. There are a lot of bad landscapes. There are pastels of cats and dogs. Sometimes, there are clowns.
Only twice in my life of thrift-store shopping (a habit that started at 14) have I found art I actually *liked.* The first was the above poster, which is Rothko-esque. I don't think it's a poster of an actual Rothko painting, but I still dig it. A year or so later, shortly after Robert and I moved into our house, I found the painting below in a consignment shop. It might be an actual painting, it might be a clever laquered print. I'm not sure. But I do know: I LOVE it.
Why do I love abstract art? Because I just do. And I don't love all of it. A lot of times, I look at abstract art and think "That's ugly and ridiculous. Who are they trying to kid?" But other times, I'm just floored by it. Of all art, it's my very favorite. It's an intuitive thing. I've tried to explain it to the haters and failed. I just adore it. These two paintings in particular.
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