Tips for Enjoying Art Exhibitions × National Galleries of Scotland Exhibition
“I love going to art exhibitions.
But I’m not sure if I’m really appreciating them properly…”
In this article, for those who harbor such concerns, I, as a researcher of Western art history, will introduce tips for enjoying art exhibitions.
Based on my viewing notes from the “National Galleries of Scotland: Masters of Beauty” exhibition currently being held at the Tokyo Metropolitan Art Museum (currently open until July 3 in Tokyo, and July 16–September 25 in Kobe), I will share what I am thinking about while viewing art at an actual exhibition, and what kind of things you can focus on to make art exhibitions feel more interesting.
This content is recommended not only for those who plan to visit this exhibition or are wondering whether to go, but also for those who want to know how to enjoy exhibitions.
That said, there is no single correct way to enjoy an art exhibition.
I hope you will read this as one example of how you might look at and enjoy them.
1 Get as close as possible
When I go to an art exhibition, the first thing I do is try to get as close to the work as possible.
By getting as close as I can, I can stand from the perspective of the painter who created the work.
And I strain my eyes to see the brushstrokes and details that are not clearly visible in photographs.
As an example, I will take up a work by Paris Bordone that is on display in this exhibition. (The links posted below are to the official website of the National Galleries of Scotland. You can see detailed images, so please try to enjoy the museum atmosphere at home.)
My viewing notes for this work say the following:
① It resembles Titian’s “Woman at the Mirror”
② The upper part of the chest is quite red
③ There is a thin, gold-colored band-like object around the lower part of the chest
① is what I thought at a glance, while ② and ③ are things I noticed while staring at the work (especially ③).
There is absolutely no need to panic if you can’t come up with impressions like ①. As you encounter many works, knowledge will naturally come to you. As the number of works you like increases, so will your points of comparison.
I think things like ② and ③ can be noticed even without knowledge if you look at the work carefully.
However, once you have these impressions, what should you do?
When I notice things like this, I try to at least ask myself, “Why?”
Why is it red?
Why is a gold band depicted?
Sometimes you find the answer on the spot, and sometimes you don’t.
Furthermore, sometimes there is a correct answer, and sometimes there isn’t.
Regarding this question, the hypothesis I formed is this:
(It might be wrong)
I thought that the eroticism might be increased because of these flushed parts and the gold band.
The area that is red is a part that is always exposed, so it gets tanned. However, the chest area where the clothes are parted is pure white. I feel that this contrast between red and white strengthens the feeling that an innocent part that is not usually shown is being exposed. (The reason the neck area is red might not be a tan, but perhaps this woman behaved in a way that made her body flush in the time before this painting was depicted.)
The gold band is painted so faintly that you can’t tell unless you look closely.
It is so thin that one might think it didn’t need to be painted at all.
However, by painting this, the area around her chest is emphasized.
There is an expression “not a single thread,” but here, I feel that because she is wearing a single thread, it emphasizes even more that she is naked.
By the way, regarding the expression of this band, there was an interesting description in a book I was reading recently.
Although it is a period slightly later than when this painting was created (around 1550), in Tasso’s epic poem “Jerusalem Delivered” (1575), the seductive witch Armida is described as wearing a band even when she is naked.
I have also seen the goddess Venus depicted wearing a band on her naked body (such as in Lorenzo Lotto’s “Cupid and Venus”).
I haven’t investigated the causal relationship or sources of these descriptions, but it can be said that this faintly painted band was likely depicted quite intentionally as a description of a seductive woman.
2 Thinking about the original form
We are accustomed to viewing works in art museums, but the institution of the art museum is a recent development.
Until then, paintings were created to be displayed in places like churches or private residences.
If you try to think about how a work was originally displayed, rather than how it is displayed now, you might find it more interesting to look at.
For example, let's look at Paolo Veronese's "Saint Anthony Abbot and a Kneeling Donor".
Since this painting depicts a saint and a donor, one can guess that it was originally an altarpiece displayed in a church.
In my viewing notes, I have written:
The angel on the left is cut off → is it cropped?
That is what I wrote.
There was no specific mention of this in the catalog, but the National Galleries of Scotland website states that this painting is a fragment of an altarpiece.
The painter did not intend to paint a cut-off angel, did he?
By keeping in mind that the current state of the display might not be the state at the time of creation, you might be able to get closer to the original form of the work. Like this work, it may not only be cut, but there is also the possibility of deterioration over time or later restoration.
Also, I have left a note like this regarding El Greco's work.
Pale. It feels somewhat artificial.
I would like to see it under candlelight.
Perhaps because it was displayed next to the healthy-looking Venetian school paintings, the paleness of El Greco's work stood out. This paleness might be the result of trying to express the divinity of Christ, which is different from that of ordinary people, but for me, as a non-Christian, Greco's expression feels artificial, or perhaps overly dramatic. However, at the time this painting was originally displayed, it was not viewed under the constant light like it is now. I thought that expressions that look overly dramatic under modern light might appear more effective in their original location, inside a dimly lit church, in the flickering light of candles.
3 Looking for strange things
Since the word "art" (bijutsu) contains the character for "beauty," many people might be viewing them under the premise that "artworks are beautiful things."
It is, of course, wonderful to simply feel that something is pretty or beautiful.
I also think it is interesting to try and think about the reasons why you feel a particular work is beautiful.
However, there are things that can be seen by temporarily removing the filter of "it is a beautiful thing."
When I look at works of art, I search for "strange parts."
Let's take Velázquez's "An Old Woman Cooking Eggs" as an example.
Even when looking at a photograph of this painting, it doesn't feel that strange, but when I saw the actual piece at the exhibition venue, I felt something was a bit off.
When I stared at the work to try and pinpoint where that "strange feeling" was coming from, I felt it particularly in the lower part of the composition.
The true nature of that discomfort was the "perspective."
I felt that the composition and my own eye level did not match. The vessels depicted in the lower part of the composition are drawn as if looked down upon from above, but because I was viewing them from the side, it felt strange. This sense of discomfort might only be felt when standing in front of the work.
I suspect that Velázquez painted this with a perspective that looks down at the old woman's hands. I thought that by having this perspective of peering in, rather than painting it from a straight-on side view, the work gained a more immersive, snapshot-like quality.
As a side note, the reason I was scrutinizing the depiction of the vessels in this work was because I had in mind a description from a paper I read previously regarding Velázquez's "The Triumph of Bacchus" (pictured below). The author of that paper noted that glass is depicted at the feet of the god, while earthenware vessels are depicted at the feet of the peasants, and suggested that the divinity of the wine god Bacchus might also be expressed through the vessels rolling at their feet (Aneta Georgievska-Shine, 2012).
The position of the pot rolling at the feet of the eggs the old woman is cooking also feels slightly unnatural (is it necessary to lean it against something here?).
In terms of the order in which they were painted, "An Old Woman Cooking Eggs" came first, and perhaps by practicing these kinds of depictions, he was able to conceive of the depiction in "The Triumph of Bacchus" later on.
I also felt a sense of discomfort with this Rubens painting.
For those other than myself who feel a sense of discomfort with this painting, please try to explore the true nature of that feeling.
4 Trying to put yourself in the shoes of the patron
In the modern day, the image of an artist as someone who creates what they like in the way they like might be strong.
However, for artists of the past, rather than doing as they pleased, their main work was creating what was requested by their patrons.
When I look at works of art, I make it a point to consider not only the painter's perspective but also the patron's perspective.
When I say "patron," some of you might think that you cannot understand the feelings of people from such a long time ago. (Even I, who study art history, do not know much about people from the past, so I have no choice but to imagine their emotions based on books written at the time.)
Of course, there are aspects where thinking differs if the era is different.
But perhaps, even if the era is different, there are also things that remain the same.
For example, while looking at Van Dyck's "Portrait of the Marchesa Ambrogio Spinola," I took the following notes.
If I were to have my portrait painted, I would want to ask Van Dyck...!
It might be a questionable impression for someone studying art history, but I will include this honest thought as well.
The actual painting is more graceful and delicate than it appears in photographs. I could easily imagine why people at the time commissioned portraits from Van Dyck.
If you try looking at the art from the perspective of "Why did they choose to commission this painter?" or "Which painting would I want to hang in my own room?", you might find a different way to enjoy it.
I will also share a bit of art history regarding this painting.
In most portraits like this, the light hits from the left side, but why is that?
It is because it was a standard practice to paint with light coming from the left, as light coming from the right would cast shadows on the canvas when the painter held the brush in their right hand. I imagined that the Tokyo Metropolitan Art Museum might have been lighting this painting from slightly to the left to display it effectively.
*Some paintings have light coming from the right, taking into account the light from windows in the location where they were originally installed.
I have written various other things in my viewing notes, but I will stop here, as I feel that talking too much might actually deprive you of the joy of your own experience.
What I have introduced in this article is only a small fraction of the works on display at the exhibition.
I hope you will all find your own favorite works at the venue.
Well, this time, I talked about art for the first time in a while (I had been avoiding talking about art because my head was full of my master's thesis, but since I hit a wall with the thesis, I wrote this as a breather).
I would be happy if this article serves as one of the triggers for you to enjoy art exhibitions.
I hope to continue sharing the joy of art so that you can all truly feel that "art is fun!"