In Thomas Hill's flash fiction "Painting No. 1" a man who has become financially wealthy in adulthood has finally realized his dream of owning 100 paintings. He tells the story of how one in particular, the one that stands out from the others as the work of an amateur, means the most to him. More than the work itself, it's a connection he felt to the artist.
I quite enjoyed it and though he doesn't quite, can't quite, articulate exactly why the artist's story resonates so much with him, it's nonetheless relatable. We all like a piece of art (a poem, a song, a movie, etc) that we know is objectively bad, those supposed "guilty pleasures," that for whatever reasons hit us personally.
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