Good Art Bad Art
Why Most People Judge Art Like They Judge Ketchup
First, let’s get this out of the way—nobody actually knows what “good” art is. They just know what makes their stomach turn, or their mind light up, or what gives them something to talk about at dinner. That’s it. That’s the truth most people never admit: “good” and “bad” in art is just taste and skill, arguing in your head like divorced parents at a school play.
Taste? Mostly the luck of the draw. Born into the right chaos, you get a head start. Survive enough, you might even rewire a little—catch a book at 13 that flips your world, fall for someone who listens to John Coltrane instead of Badshah, or just get tired of your own bullshit and start asking real questions. But no one picks their taste from a shelf. Most of it’s hardwired, the rest is what life did to you when you weren’t looking.
Skill’s the opposite. You’re not born with it—okay, maybe 20% is luck or genes or freakish muscle memory. The rest? That’s just scars. Hours and years. Calluses and missed notes. The part nobody claps for. You build it, brick by brick, until your hands ache and your ego can’t tell the difference between “talent” and just showing up again tomorrow.
Here’s where most people screw up: They stand in front of the tap, shivering, waiting for the perfect mix. Is this water hot or cold? Is this song “good” or “bad”? Do I have taste, or just Wi-Fi and an Instagram account? The ones who get anywhere, they don’t ask. They just keep mixing. They turn both taps and see what comes out.
So I stopped judging. Judging is for people who want to avoid feeling. I just listen. I try to find the mix—mine, not someone else’s. That’s the only real job any artist or listener has. Not to pronounce a verdict. Just to feel, and keep turning the taps until it makes sense. Or until you can’t hear the pipes anymore.
Art is the only place where being wrong is just another color.
If you’re looking for someone to hand out gold stars for taste, try kindergarten. If you want to know what’s real, go stand under the tap. It’s usually somewhere between burning and freezing.
That’s where art lives.