Seeing and Then Really Seeing

One of the largest and greatest art museums in the world is the Uffizi Gallery in Florence, Italy.  When my wife and I used to take students to Italy during the January term, we would always include a guided tour of the Uffizi.  There are literally hundreds of masterpieces on view which celebrate the artistic heritage of Florence.

Art history students who visit the Uffizi are surprised when they move from one room to another to come face to face with one artwork after another that they studied in art history classes.  

If there is a problem in visiting the Uffizi, it is in seeing more masterpieces in a visit  than one will see for the rest of one’s life.  I admit that after about two hours in the Uffizi, my brain felt overloaded with images.  When I left the gallery, I found it hard to recall what I’d actually seen.

That’s when I remind myself that none of the artists represented in the Uffizi intended their works to be displayed in such crowded company.  Each work was originally in a church, palace, or city building, where it was the sole focus of attention.  I have no doubt that the artists hoped that people would stop and study their works, not move from one art piece to another as if they are viewing desserts in a cafeteria line.

In reading an art history book recently, I was struck by the author’s claim that the average person living in the Middle Ages was likely to see only three works of art in a lifetime.  Before we feel sorry for those ancestors, we might ask ourselves if they experienced more of what art is about than we experience in visits to galleries like the Uffizi or Newfields.

Over the last year and a half, two writers at the New York Times have asked a similar question.  Once a month, the writers invite viewers to spend ten minutes looking at, really looking at, one work of art.  My wife has taken up the challenge and admits that it isn’t easy to look at one image for even ten minutes.  She also admits that the exercise brings  unexpected rewards.             

That led me to try the experiment.   I chose a painting of the ducal palace in Venice by the Impressionist painter Claude Monet.  The first two minutes were the hardest, as I felt pressure to see more in the painting.  The only new aspect that I noticed was two seagulls on the right side of the work.

But about the five-minute point, something unexpected happened.  Suddenly, the pink color of the palace marble seemed to intensify as if someone had turned up the light.   Soon after that, I heard the faint cry of the seagulls, as if I were really in the scene.    

We might feel that we don’t have ten minutes to spend time with a work of art, but  doesn’t that suggest that we are victims in our modern world of what Pope Francis called the “tyranny of the urgent?”

I hope you are tempted to try the exercise for yourself.  Ten minutes of silent reflection on a piece of art offers a welcome mental health break.  You might notice your breathing slowing down and your body beginning to relax.  Especially at this time of year, who of us doesn’t need a break from our fast-paced lives?