I bought some art the other day — nothing too crazy, nothing too expensive, nothing made by an ex-graffiti artist going legit and now giddily bilking rappers out of their piles of new money. Just something beautiful, something I had an emotional response to, something that I perceived as having value independent of its function or cost of production.

That’s how it begins, right? Not my personal collection, but the idea that value is subjective, open to interpretation and influence. If you look closely, the art I chose will reveal something about me, yes, but not that I’ve been hoodwinked.