I, like many who have taken Honors Humanities and were subjected to the horrors of Dada and Cubism, developed an extreme distaste for “modern” art. I originally planned to write a 500-word article on why I think modern art is stupid. (Thrilling, right?) 

Well, what I’ve come to realize after some research, and a few hours of watching Youtube videos, is that I am completely wrong.

My epiphany came when I was sitting on my couch, about a half-hour into scrolling through Instagram reels. I saw that video, you know the one, where there is just a slice of bread sitting upright on a table and after a long and dramatic pause, it just falls over. Well, strangely enough, I found this so amusing that it brought tears to my eyes. 

Scrolling through my feed, I began to realize how many likes these kinds of videos got, despite them being, well, kinda stupidly simple. 

Despite knowing this, I continued to watch them, and, like thousands of others, truly enjoyed them. This short video of bread falling over provoked genuine human emotion—joy.

Sitting curled up on my couch, I started to pick through why I found this video funny. I came across many ideas, then dismissed them almost immediately. Was it surprising? No, I’ve watched this video before, and have found it hilarious every time. Was it well-timed? No, it really wasn’t, it was a piece of bread falling over. Did I think it was complicated to make and I admired the artistry? Not even in the slightest.

 I tried to view the video from a completely impartial and critical perspective—as an art critic would—and found that it was utter garbage. There was no punchline, nothing that would make it objectively funny. And yet, it brought me joy, and provoked a real human feeling other than disgust and perplexment. 

I didn’t pooh-pooh the video and say, “I could’ve made this” or “This has no meaning; why should I care about it?” which are the arguments I would’ve made when confronted with a Pollock painting. 

I felt like a critic, one who spends time watching a video of bread falling and finds it intriguing, just as a real art critic would spend an hour staring at a canvas with a small square of red, and find it bursting with meaning. 

All of my arguments on why I hated modern art, even my main thesis-–that it has no objective value—could be turned around and fired right back at me. I was completely a hypocrite. 

Next time we analyze a Picasso, I will try to hold in my disbelieving scoff. Now, it is not like I am going out to buy the piece “The Comedian” but, if you want to spend 120,000 dollars on a pamphlet of instructions telling you exactly how to duck tape a  banana to the wall? (Yes, really.) I won’t stop you.

I suppose my dislike for modern art has dulled into an understanding, yet cautious view that people can enjoy what they want to, without me raining on their parade. 

I was so busy stoking my own ego, saying, “Oh, it’s not valuable, I could do that!” that I forgot to look at my Youtube home page and see the thousands of inexplicably entertaining videos that I treasure so much. 

Lesson learned.