Hotel Paintings

There are two things I routinely think the moment I step inside my hotel room for the first time: "I wonder who stayed here last night and what sort of unspeakable debauchery occurred," and "Seriously, where do they get these paintings?" Both ponderings tend to remain unanswered, but that doesn't mean I don't try drawing my own conclusions. The former thought, though, mostly by choice, is given little rumination time as I usually just figure it's probably best that I remain in the dark about the events of my room's previous night. The latter thought, on the other hand, is a brainwave I'll bet each of our inquisitive cerebral cortexes has fired off at one point or another.

If there's a majestic, awe-inspiring hotel painting out there hanging above a very bland, wooden headboard bolted to the wall or a basket filled with packets of complimentary mud-flavored coffee, I have yet to see it. I'm not saying the paintings in hotel rooms lack a trace of genuine talent, but I'm fairly confident that in several cases you could wind up with a near replication if you blindfolded a kindergartener afflicted with ADHD and handed him the same '70s-influenced subdued paints and no brush.

I would be interested to know the reaction of one of these paintings' artist as he stumbled upon a print of his work in the corridor of a Holiday Inn Express while vacationing. Is there an immediate sense of pride or dejection? Would he be overcome with artistic acceptance or career-ending humiliation? I feel as if either of the two -- or maybe both -- sentiments would be understandable. I mean, granted, it's no Louvre exhibit, but at least the painting is no longer sitting with a clearance sticker in the corner of TJ Maxx. And, you know, someone found it appropriate (okay, tacky) enough to purchase it and hang publicly.

I say puff your chest, Picasso, and wear that badge of misguided artistry with delight! Someone's painting had to suspend over that handcuffed, balding businessman and his transsexual escort in leather, so why shouldn't it be your canvas print of a coyote atop a queerly zigzagged mesa, howling into the pastel moonlight? High five!