I enjoy most schools of art that I’ve ever studied, with one big exception so far. Rococo, the 18th-century style characterized by intricately ornate decoration, just leaves me cold. In painting or in architecture, most examples of this movement strike me as a celebration of shallowness: too light, too insipid, with nothing to really say. The examples shown here look like little more than the work of a comfortably elite society wallowing in its own idleness and excess.
Actually, I’m surprised rococo hasn’t come back into fashion yet.