On a bedroom wall in our Chicago condo I hung art, or what I thought was art when I bought it. It’s round and metal and has some little mirrors on it. In the few years it has been there I realize I don’t know art. I’m guessing it’s not art because I no longer like it. Now I think it looks silly and I was silly to buy it and I don’t know why I did.
Since I’m accustomed to it, I haven’t replaced it but think I really should.
Today I saw bubbles of light on that bedroom’s ceiling. Prancing and dancing lights. I hadn’t noticed when the sun shines through a window onto this silly thing, its mirrors bounce baby sun balls around the room like happy Tinkerbells. It’s lively. Kind of artsy.
Mrs. Fitz's Story Emporium 
Over the years, I have gone from being the “Knickknack Queen” to the “Minimalist” approach to decorating. Tastes change, or we simply get sick of dusting our acquired faux art objects. On the other hand, if it makes you happy then it belongs where it is.