A few years ago, I went to an exhibit at the Hirshhorn Gallery (part of the Smithsonian) in Washington, DC. The exhibit was entitled "Visions", or something similar. The theme of the exhibit was the future of American Modern Art.
One thing I saw in that exhibit revealed to me how utterly vapid and barren the current notion of "art" is.
What I saw was a pile of bricks. The pile of bricks -- the sort of thing one would see at a construction site -- was, somehow, "art" -- because it was being exhibited in a Museum. If I had seen the same pile of outside the museum, it would have not been art -- the "artistic elite" had proclaimed it art, and so, according to them, it was "art".
From 1986 until his death in 1996, Felix Gonzalez-Torres produced a prolific body of work, transforming everyday objectsclocks, light bulbs, candyinto profound meditations on love and loss. This installation is an allegorical portrait of the artists partner, Ross Laycock, who died of an AIDS-related illness in 1991. The 175 pounds of candy correspond to an ideal body weight, and viewers are encouraged to take a piece. The diminishing amount of candy symbolically refers to Laycocks body languishing from disease. The artist has made sure that the art survives, however, by instructing that the candies be continuously replaced. In the simplest of forms, and with the participation of both his audience and the museum staff, Gonzalez-Torres comments on personal pain and the endurance of art, while challenging traditional museum practices and expectations of museum visitors.
Also at the Hirshhorn Gallery they had video of a woman sucking her toes on a loop and called it art. I was glad admission was free.