I like art. Doesn't everybody? My tastes lean toward crafts for the visual arts. For the performing arts, I like contemporary folk and independent acoustic music with a country flavor, as well as community theater.
I'll buy art in a heartbeat if it haunts me, like the landscape serigraphs of Eyvind Earle do, or if it makes me laugh like the exuberant, colorful, whimsical work of women like Marti McGinnis, or if it fascinates me like any kaliedoscope created by anybody, using any kind of material that could possibly become a kaliedoscope, or if it keeps me warm, like textiles that weavers make from hand-died yarns.
I create stuff that I call art. Whether it's really "art" could be debated by people who know how to define it, but I enjoy doing it and the people I give it to seem to enjoy having it.
My sister says I should sell my creations. I'm tepid about the idea. If you sell things, people can demand them from you, demand that you produce them under a deadline, criticize the quality, and apply other forces that take all the love out of the endeavor.
So I make things and use them myself or give them away. It's best that way. Maybe I'll change my mind someday if Becky keeps encouraging me.