Last week, I took the train into DC to visit the National Gallery of Art, which is by far one of my favorite places in the city. Regardless of the show or exhibition, I always come home energized and inspired. Sometimes, I’ll even go down just to sit in the “Rothko Room” for an hour — and I know the official name is Tower 1 of the East Building, but I think Rothko Room sounds much more poetic. On this particular trip, I was there to see The Double, a show that a friend who works at the gallery called “life changing” — which is saying something considering she’s one of the top paper conservators in the world and has seen some pretty incredible work over the course of her career. The show really is fantastic and features work by some of my favorite artists, including Frank Stella and Robert Rauschenberg; and it begins with a pair of American flags by Jasper Johns displayed opposite Double America by Glenn Ligon.
For the past several days, I’ve been thinking about the work in The Double and, in broader terms, the three main ways that I tend to see and experience art. For many of us, the most common way to see art is through reproduction, either online or in books. While websites and social media platforms are far more immediate, I vastly prefer books to seeing work online—but I’ll save the whole “screen vs. page” discussion for another day and instead just group them both together as an image of the actual thing. Whether that’s a painting, a photograph, sculpture, or stills from a piece of video art, the source doesn’t really matter as much as realizing that we’re talking about a facsimile of the actual piece. Truth be told, while I have a ton of art and photo books, I rarely look at most of them after the first week or so of getting them. That said, when I want to look at them, I can. Whether I’m looking up a particular piece or a body of work on a specific theme or just immersing myself in a single artist, my books are a fantastic solution and they’re just an arm’s distance away.
My favorite way of seeing art—almost any type of art—is in person, which obviously is a very different experience than seeing it in books. Standing in the Rothko Room that I mentioned at the top can simply not be matched by flipping through a copy of Rothko: The Color Field Paintings. A book doesn’t always allow you to see the work in the same way—I’ve spent hours looking at brush strokes in paintings, grain in photographs, and color or texture details that often get lost on the printed page. But unless you live in or near a city, seeing art in person can be infinitely more difficult than simply ordering a book on Amazon or visiting your local library. And even if you do live in a city, the cost of visiting museums and galleries can be prohibitively expensive. For example, a ticket to the Metropolitan Museum of Art in New York is $30. Prices are similar in museums in Boston, Chicago, and Los Angeles. I happen to live just outside of Washington DC, where most of the museums are free. When I first visited DC in 2014, I had conversation about this with the same friend I mentioned earlier who pointed out that DC is unique in that taking the cost of entry out of the equation fundamentally changes the relationship you can have with art. Removing the fee means that you can visit a museum any time you want and see as much or as little as you like or have time for, without feeling like you have to rush through to get your money’s worth. Or, if a particular show really resonates, you can visit that show multiple times, which I’ve done with several of the shows at the National Gallery and the various Smithsonian museums since I moved here. On top of seeing the actual work, there are talks, lectures, concerts, and films, all of which help to expand our knowledge and understanding of both art and artists.
The third way I experience art is by simply watching others. After I’ve seen a show—or sometimes as I’m going through it—I’ll just sit on one of the benches and watch people looking at art. I’m interested in what interests them. Do they spend as much time on the Rauschenbergs as I do? Or, do they simply glance at them and spend the next ten minutes looking intently at the Matisse that I didn’t really connect with? In each case, questions are raised. What am I connecting with that they don’t see? Or, what am I not seeing that they are? Degas said, “Art is not what you see, but what you make others see” and while that quote is from the perspective of the artist, I’m fascinated by the gap between the two, both as a maker and as a viewer.
Looking at art in a gallery or museum with other people can become a collective experience, not unlike seeing a movie in the theater instead of watching it on Netflix from your sofa. Their reactions often influence our reactions and, in some cases, can be the catalyst for conversation. On more than a few occasions, I’ve ended up in a terrific conversation about a piece or an artist with a complete stranger that broadens my understanding or appreciation.
The great Stella Adler said, “Life beats down and crushes the soul and art reminds you that you have one.” I know that statement isn’t true for everyone, but it’s definitely true for me. The state of the world often causes me an enormous amount of anxiety, but losing myself in art—whether that’s visual art, or music, or film, or books—even for only a few moments, gives me hope that we can be so much more.
Questions:
Are there museums where you are? If so, what impact do they have on your relationship with art? If not, how do you typically see and experience art?
Speaking of art, in episode 59 of Deep Natter, Sean and I talked about a new AI called MidJourney, which creates visual art based on your unique text prompts. Honestly, it’s pretty fascinating and has me wondering if there’s a place in my workflow for a collaboration of sorts. I’ll share some of my experiments in the coming weeks. Look for Deep Natter in your favorite podcast app.
I too much prefer seeing art in person. Second best is in art or photography books, though as you've stated, it isn't at all the same type of experience.
Answering your question: I live on an island far from any major city though we do have an art gallery to view the art of residents-of-the-island. I don't go often because the art ranges so widely in ... technical merit. But when there is a photography show on display, I enjoy seeing it because the quality is of a better calibre. Decades ago when I lived in a city, I really enjoyed going to see the ever-changing art installations. I had no idea how very fortunate I was in those days. I miss that.
The in-person experience is one I value. An example I can recommend without reservation is an exhibit currently on display at the Brandywine River Museum of Art in Chadds Ford, PA. of Dawoud Bey's photography project, "Night Coming Tenderly, Black". The wonderfully curated collection of large Black & White prints presented in a subdued and quiet setting is not to be missed. Unfortunately it is only on display through the end of this month. https://www.brandywine.org/museum/exhibitions/dawoud-bey-night-coming-tenderly-black