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"You have to come over and see my new painting!" A girlfriend of mine gushed with such enthusiam, I grabbed my purse and headed to her house. She had explained that I had been a great influence in her latest work of art. I had seen her work before and likened it to Jackson Pollock. During a casual conversation I explained, "I'm more of an old-school art enthusiest. I love Carrivagio. It's as if you're looking at a photograph." She did her best to school me on the beauty of modern art but just like music, everyone has different tastes.

She greeted me with a kiss to the cheek, beaming. After a cup of coffee she asked, "Do you want to see it?" I had prepared myself for this moment the entire drive over. "Sure." I replied. "What do you think?" I saw before me what looked like a stencilled art piece stolen from a baby girl's bedroom. "The colour is so vivid" I said with syrup in my voice. I could see she was proud and I didn't want to rain on her parade of joy. The little pink flowers, the bright yellow rectangles, a swirl of turqiose blue: I hated it. There was nothing original about it. The worst part was the knowledge that I was the inspiration behind this abomination. If she worked in advertising for Barbie merchandise I would have told her she was right on the money. Instead I asked, "Are you going to show it in the gallery?" She looked it over and panic rose up into my ears. What if she gave it to me? I would have to hang this girly-girl "art" in my home for all to see. "No, I think it'll stay here. It complements our feature wall so nicely." A weight lifted from my shoulders.

It occurred to me later that I had carefully avoided telling her what I really thought of her painting. I've spent hours in galleries around the world, wondering what the big deal was with the Mona Lisa? Why was David's doodle so small? Yet these are known as masterpieces, truely in the eye of the beholder. Who thought it was a good idea for Keanu Reeves to do Shakespear? When I hear Mariah Carey on the radio, I immediately switch the station. A grammy winning singer is like nails on a chalkboard to my ears. Pondering all this, I asked myself, "Am I a bad friend? Should I just tell her it's crap?" Then I tried to put myself in her shoes, a friend tactfully saying, 'Don't quit your day job.' I know I wouldn't want to hear that. We all try new things, some we excell at and others we fail miserably. I decided then and there I would have to tollerate what in her mind was incredibly beautiful. I have since adopted phrases such as, "You know, it's not my cup of tea but I can appreciate the medium." Or, my favourite, "What feeling are you trying to provoke with these shapes here?" Anything that makes her think I am taking a sincere interest in what she's trying to achieve. I know my ass looks huge in my red jeans but I love them. Yellow is a terrible colour for my complexion but I continue to buy yellow shirts anyway. No one has ever told me it looks bad. For now, I watch my friend live out her dream, the one thing that brings immense joy to her life. To my surprise, her last painting sold for $2000.

Learn more about this author, Julie Hartnett.
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