It ought to be Beautiful, albeit in a wicked way, as a protest against the ugliness of the world in general, not mentioning the art world. There's something suspicious about beauty; it appeals to the the unruly senses and to the masses -- and the sourest academics, well bottled and preserved in their textually spiced winegear of theories, can not understand it. Long live the revolution.
Wild, Unharnessed: One would think twice before using this wild beauty for greeting cards (or, at least, check the address twice). Art without straight lines and common nonsense, the aforesaid wickedness and unsettling hints of deepest insanity, is the nutritious soil in which weeds can grow and bloom. The wild flowers of beauty blossom despite all chaos-through-order and discipline that we're currently suffering, they're the herbal cure to concrete blocks and timetables.
Last but not least: Entirely Unpredictable -- thus keeping the stove so hot that you may cook a nicely bubbling stew of all dull ideas that kept you enslaved. Serve them with a funny, ridiculous light; these ghosts of the mind, now gently poached, were only dangerous as long as enough people took them seriously; security almighty, holy economy and whatnot. Laugh at those silly things -- as heartily and loud as possible. Have fun. (That's an order.) Create art. Dance.