DOES ART HAVE TO BE INTENTIONAL?

"You look like you've caught the sun," said Malcolm, grinning. Brilliant.

I took the Intrepids to the beach yesterday for a birthday treat. The wind had been blustery and the air cold enough for a jumper, a coat and a hat. Somehow through all those layers, the sun had snuck through and had tickled me pink.

We had a good day though, there on the rough sand at Mudeford, overlooking the Isle of Wight. I love looking at the sea, watching it roar and change and crash and spray. It's one of my favourite things to do. As the wind blew sand about and the sun arced across the bay, I found myself relaxing, just listening to the ocean and taking in the sea air. Everything was perfect for a while.

"You've got a penalty notice," said my Dad, returning from the car with my keys and a small plastic envelope he'd found wedged under my windscreen wipers.

What a picture of life - just when everything is organised for maximum relaxation, along comes something to mess it all up. I've only ever got a parking ticket once before - in Lincoln about eight years ago. I'd parked at a creative angle between the white lines and a traffic warden hadn't appreciated the artistic nature of it. I guess some people just don't get art, do they?

That reminds me. Jo, one of the artists in our church, came and sat next to me today. We have artists who paint during the service and today, apparently, it was Jo's turn. She was dressed in overalls and was carrying a small square palette, which she put down on the carpet in front of her. It was covered in paint: thick colours mingling - blue and white, brown and black swirling and dancing where she'd mixed them. It was actually quite beautiful. I couldn't help staring at it.

"It's not supposed to be a work of art!" she whispered, chuckling as I leaned forward to get a closer look. I thought about that for a moment.

"No? I really like it," I said, after a little pause.

It got me thinking though. Does art have to be intentional? I mean does it have to have a purpose, a meaning, a thing that it does? Jo had accidentally created something that she didn't consider to be art at all. Actually, I think she thought I was really odd for appreciating it - it wasn't supposed to be art, but it sort of was. I know we could talk about what's art and what's not for weeks but this struck me as an interesting spoke in the wheel of that question.

Most art is intentional, I suppose. Artists create for love, passion, politics, hunger, food, religion, news, vanity, money, appreciation, exhibition, boredom, humour or identity. But is it possible to create something accidentally that's amazing? I think it is - though I appreciate that Jo could have been a bit offended at me being blown away by her palette, when her actual canvas, the thing she'd set out to do, was several feet away, glistening on an easel for all to see. In fact, it was for that exact reason that I decided not to ask her whether I could take a photo of it to show you.

Plus, that would have been me intentionally creating a piece of art from a very unintentional one and then distributing it for your discussion - which would in itself be art (I think (I also think discussing artwork is part of the artwork itself)) and it would have totally undermined my point.

Mind you, I've discussed it anyway haven't I? It's suddenly got a bit meta-confusing, all this. Anyway, the tale is: I thought it was a beautiful palette of colours and Jo the artist thought I was a bit weird for mentioning it.

My parking ticket isn't a work of art. It's £70 of unjustified paperwork which almost ruined a day out at the beach with the Intrepids. I'm going to sound like one of the inmates at Wormwood Scrubs in a minute, but the rum truth of it is that it I'm an innocent man m'lud and I've been stitched up a wrong'un. No, seriously, the ticket said I had an out-dated tax disc.

31-7-15 it says, my tax disc. I took photos of the car exactly as it was parked so I can appeal and they can discuss it. I might tone the photos all to sepia, give them a frame and then sign them with a flourish when I send them in.