Art Comes Off Its Pedestal
It is good that art today has come off its pedestal and is not elitist. Art is now only a click away. See it in the palm of your hand or on a computer. Even museums, themselves, are going virtual. It's fantastic to have this kind of access to art worldwide. But no one believes that viewing a painting in a tiny phone snap or even online is the same as seeing the real thing. Do they?
Why People Go to Art Museums: The Photo-Op Phenomenon
We're now just emerging from the lock-downs and closures during the pandemic. Most of us, including me, are thankful for our virtual connections during this confined time. But nothing can replace reality. As real venues open up for us, I look forward, among other things, to visiting actual art in real places. I'm adding to a column I wrote a few years ago because it's so very timely. It's about the art of looking. It's also a commentary on what now brings people to art museums.
Do people go to museums to see the world-famous art ? To get a personal take on the reality of the work they see? Maybe even to get a cultural-historical perspective? Not sure of the motivation, but it's a fact that crowds in museums reached all-time highs before the Corona pandemic. Museums welcomed crowds at a hefty admission price. Swarms of people thought it was worth it. That's a cultural breakthrough.
What does it mean? The triumph of the art museum as a public attraction? It is impressive. But if we look at what most people in museums are doing, what do we see? Over the past decade, I've seen an odd, but now very familiar, thing happening in art museums. You've likely noticed it yourselves. There's a constant click, click, click of the camera as people spend all of 10 seconds in front of an artwork. That's right. According to records collected, the 10 seconds maximum includes the time needed to point and shoot the phone snapshot. So, how much time is spent actually looking at the artwork? In fact, many times people have their backs to the artwork and look backwards through their phone lens to get a selfie with a painting.
The popular currency in today's museum visits seems that they offer such great photo ops! There's a frenzy to take a snapshot and continue onward for the next piece of inventory to tally in our camera roll. Driven by a consumerism of sorts, it seems like looting a brand-name designer store only in order to snap up the tiny name tags sewn in the clothing! Sometimes the crowds taking photos are so large in museums that I had to must to work my way through them and wait for chance to really look at the art. Otherwise, I guess I could just hold my phone aloft and click!
Art Becomes a Selfie
Many visitors take selfies beside an artwork. I noticed this especially among the younger set of patrons to museums. Why? I guess it must be like having a celebrity shot of Mona and me. All this "photo-opping" may reflect a triumph for art in the public eye. But it's disconcerting (to me) when the same people don't even look at the painting for any more time than it takes to click their camera.
They leave the museum with a photo checklist of all they've spotted, a marathon race to the finish.
What does that amount to? It's fun to have a bunch of Mona and Me photos for social media or personal history. But what's been seen or experienced of all that art? That's the issue for me, one of the many art-lovers in the world. Having a snapshot has little or nothing to do with actually looking and seeing the Mona Lisa.
Are We Really Looking ?
Hey, I like taking photos of art in museums and elsewhere. There's nothing wrong with wanting photo mementos. Museums are for the public, and the more they allow the better, IMO. I'm also very much in favour of museums permitting photos (as well as lowering entrance fees). But this rush to click photos impedes the "looking and seeing" experience: the engaging and real-time experience that art offers.
Not looking is a missed opportunity. We miss that personal thing that happens when we look closely in order to see whatever comes. Only if we look can we experience what an artwork can do. You may or may not like what it does. But you get to know, for yourself, what the work is about, what it does or doesn't do for you and with you. That's what I think art is for: the human connection to something vital that lives between the artwork and each of us.
The Slow Look
We need at least a few minutes for any artwork to register in our own eyes and body, and then perhaps some moments more to let our perceptions merge with thoughts and feelings. SLOW looking instead of fast-snapping.
The personal experience of art requires that we take some moments in time to look at it up close and personal, like getting to know a new person. Some art, like some people, already come with a good or bad reputation, and we're set up to see what we've been told. But with genuine looking, it's our own impressions that count. At first impression, some art will seem strange to us, some of it gorgeous or ugly, boring or exciting. That's because art, unlike wallpaper, always does something. We miss all that if we don't take the time to look
The Experience: What We Miss
Replacing real looking time with a fast-snap routine changes the art experience. A snapshot souvenir is fine, like a memento of someone you want to remember. But if the 10 seconds spent with Mona was used just to snap and shoot, what IS there to remember? There is no art experience to recall.
A Devious After-Thought
Here's a strange thought: What if snapping photos is used (even unintentionally) to avoid the act of looking? Are we even interested in seeing an artwork? Are we afraid? Intimidated? Maybe we worry we won't get it or fret over whether we'll react differently than we think we're supposed to ... as if there is a right reaction! Yet another reason for all those snapshots may reflect a cultural need to own an artwork, if only in our camera roll.
I suppose it's a sign of our times to be rushed, overwhelmed with information, advertisements, opinions, distractions. So much is available, so much junk thrown in with the valuable. So much to consume, so much to need. So many time-saving devices, so little time. So great is the pull of media, celebrity cults, headlines, and information reduced to visual/sound bites that we're hard-pressed to construct our own evaluation of what's worth our scattered attention. Perhaps then all we can do is run through the kaleidoscope, trying to snatch a bit here and there. Just as conversation is replaced texting notations and automatic word inserts, this "virtual seeing" in quick snaps leads us to record instead of to regard what we see.
The Value of the Taking it SLOW
What's the antidote to this treadmill? Perhaps it starts with re-valuing the slow versus fast-track. Paradoxically, slowing down can expand our sense of time. Slow food, slow walks, time to breathe out and take things in. Our enforced slow down during the time of pandemic restraints may have made a slow approach more amenable to many of us.
Taking the time to look is part of the creative experience wherever it occurs, inside or outside museums, in natural or human contexts. To experience a work of art takes a moment or two, as it runs through a range of emotions, thoughts, and reactions, including "what the hell is it !" Our individual experience becomes part of the artwork's meaning. It counts.
Art is a vital interaction, not just something hanging on a wall. It needs viewers who look at it, like it or not. Crowds may not be needed. But whenever someone really looks at an artwork, I think a renaissance occurs and the art comes to life. Reciprocally, the viewers who look slowly enough and often enough get to experience this continual renewal.
Please leave YOUR comment. Thanks, Janet