It's so passé to bash poetry that doesn't rhyme, or painting that doesn't represent something concrete. Some people love both. Why would that offend? (Or, more to the point, why wouldn't people deeply offended by that be the right ones to offend with art?)

Also, if you think a poem doesn't rhyme just because the line endings don't rhyme, let me let you in on a secret. (Now you know.)

Basically every poem has rich sound and image interlinks, or it wouldn't be a poem.

You might find two concepts juxtaposed random, but if someone else sees a lot in that pairing, who's the one lacking?

If everyone finds a thing perfectly random, it's called noise, and no one pays any attention. Generally noise is not offensive, especially when you can opt in or out.

Splatter on a canvas seems about as inoffensive as possible. Don't like it? Keep walking.

OK: you might feel someone else's work should feature here instead. You might feel cheated of an entrance fee. You might rail against the privilege of an established painter who turns in a canvas of solid beige that finds its way to a major gallery wall.

But we have to admit, those are all meanings prompted by the blank in the gallery.

It's understood now that works derive some, much, or all of their meaning from context and interpretation. These works that rile some people up are playing with those people most.

A blank beige canvas in a gallery of great works means something different from what it would mean on a coffee shop wall, or next to a dumpster. The air of legitimacy lent by an artist's name and reputation mixes in with that. It's part of the trick.

And sometimes it's nice to look at a blank space, or relax from trying to process a swarm of intense images, and just doodle mentally with some unconnected dots.

You're welcome. The museum was thinking of you.