SEVENTY TWO POINT EIGHT MILLION DOLLARS.
You can talk to me until you're Pacific Blue in the face about the talent required for abstract art such as this, but I think too many "appreciators of art" are afraid of really speaking their mind for fear of looking stupid, which they already do in their poncy berets, black turtleneck sweaters, soul patches, and shades indoors (Apparently all art appreciators are beatniks from the 1950s).
It's shit. It's okay to think it's shit. I've seen abstract I do like, and THIS AIN'T IT, sweetcheeks. It's not clever, innovative, or delightfully unsettling and unpredictable to my visual senses and expectations. Even if someone did like it because it matched their awful sofa set, who on Earth would actually believe it's worth $72.8m???
I despise artists who try too hard to be different. They try so hard to defy expectations that they even deny that they're trying. They probably wouldn't want to be classed as "anarchists" because that would imply they belong to a group with shared beliefs.
Exhibit A: The Wikipedia entry:
Mark Rothko born Marcus Rothkowitz (September 25, 1903 – February 25, 1970) was a Latvian-born American painter and printmaker who is classified as an abstract expressionist, although he rejected not only the label but even being an abstract painter.
Wow. He must be fun at parties.
You can tell I'm not the type of person to put any worth into celebrity discarded garbage either. If I had John Lennon's snot-filled hanky, I'd sell it. I wouldn't frame it, pray to it, make music videos starring it, I'd just make some idiot pay for something that involved no talent at all, as they are wont to do.
At the end of the day, they're only human. Their talent may be worthy of recognition (OR NOT), but at the end of the day... Celebrities eat Hot Pockets, poo (quite soon after the Hot Pockets), scratch their arses, and sing in the shower like the rest of us.
Take a look at Rothko's other pieces, and try your best to convince me otherwise.