And if you want a classic example of a lucky guy, take a look at E. E. Cummings. I'm sorry, I feel like a pawn when I type his name with all lowercase. His poems are a bunch of symbols! What's so deep about that? "Trans[po R Ta } ti o n." Something like that. It drives me mad that English teachers make us analyze this crap, like there's deep symbolism in it. I could type up a bunch of ascii characters with no intent in mind other than to drive people crazy, and half the English teachers in this country would find some sort of meaning in it.
Same thing rings true with modern art in general. I saw this PURE WHITE CANVAS once, called "Tundra." Gaah! What is that?! I mean, I could possibly understand if there was some kind of gradient from gray to white. Actually, no, that's still not good. But they didn't even have that! It was just a pure, white canvas! No paint! Just whiteness! Another thing I saw that boggled me was in a museum in Chicago. A pile of rocks in the middle of the room. Honest to God- rocks. Surrounded by a one of those fuzzy chiffon barriers, in case anyone dared to steal a rock or alter this masterpiece. These modern forms of art baffle me, I swear. Leonardo would be rolling in his grave.