The Art of Having Taste

Recently I’ve been going down the rabbit hole of art. All of it. Who was Chagall, Matisse, Botero, Klimt, Hopper? Why did they matter? What is Fauvism, Impressionism, Surrealism, the Enlightenment? YouTube, books, museums, conversations. I’ve been absorbing it all.

Last night I had a mini epiphany. Follow me.

Art is like wine. Wine is like art. Often we are steered toward the great artists and wines that the metaphorical system pushes at us. Let me try to explain.

In wine, all roads lead back to Bordeaux. Of course you can say Napa is better, or Italian wine is great. My point is that you are still being steered toward those few top producers who the crowds have deemed the best. From Château Margaux to Screaming Eagle to Sassicaia. And yet, after tasting and experiencing some of these, are we being coddled into supporting the narrative? To conform around the greats? Are they really so great? Really so great? Really?

I don’t know.

Until this art adventure, I didn’t realize that, similar to wine, you get fed the 20 or so artists who represent certain genres and different art movements. Salvador Dalí for Surrealism. Name another Surrealist artist? Yes, the real art historian can. Yet do you want to show up to a dinner party with Two Buck Chuck or a Dalí original?

Get it?

So this art hole I’m in is interesting. I’m watching my 4K screensaver rotate through Klimt paintings. Now, like wine, the more you learn about terroir, the history of the château, the winemaker, the season, the gossip, the more you are pulled into its sphere of influence.

Same with art.

I lived next to a Botero sculpture for years at our Seattle headquarters. Only after seeing dozens of people take pictures of the oversized statue did I finally look him up.

Oh, Botero, I thought.

Then a year or so later, I was in the south of France and saw a similar statue. Recognizing a Botero, I felt cool. Mind you, I never really looked up Botero in general until this past week.

I found out Fernando Botero (1932–2023) was a Colombian artist who moved to New York City and essentially forced his way into the art consciousness. At one point he tried to blend in with other styles that weren’t his own, while still leaving a little bit of his recognizable style of exaggerated, fat versions of people. When asked about them, he said they looked skinny to him. Lol.

Eventually, he was recognized and stuck to his own Boterismo style, the style we’d all recognize today.

Come on, doesn’t that draw you in?

Now, if you don’t like the look of his work, can you appreciate the story?

Maybe.

And now my point.

Music, unlike art or wine, when you hear a song and it hits, or a beat that hits, it’s almost undeniable. The foot tapping. Head bobbing. Peace. Dance. Love. Nostalgia.

Two people might not like the same song or even the same artist, but when the music is right, it’s undeniable.

Wine got fun for me when I discovered a Japanese wine. Of my entire wine phase, I was shocked to find that Japan makes a wine I think will rival the world.

Yes, those words.

Am I the first to say so? Probably not.

It was breaking out of the main spheres through which I learned the basics of wine that allowed some version of my own palate to fully enjoy the Japanese wine.

That’s when wine got fun.

I believe the same is true with art.

Learning the baseline of art history and artists allows the patron to self-discover what they like versus what the crowd tells them to like.

That’s when art gets fun.

That learning curve is funny and interesting.

Peace.

****updated: Taste by Mark Michael.