The following piece is an opinion and does not reflect the views of The Eagle and its staff. All opinions are edited for grammar, style and argument structure and fact-checked, but the opinions are the writer’s own.
I have a confession to make. Mark Rothko’s art has never made me cry. As a matter of fact, Rothko has failed to make me feel much of anything. My issue is that I recently saw an Instagram post by the National Gallery of Art, which said that his paintings often make people have “intense reactions” and even “break down and cry.”
Needless to say, I am not one of those people. For the longest time, I thought I never had an emotional experience because I just didn’t like Rothko. I even got the idea that I wasn’t cultured or educated enough, and that’s why I didn’t tear up at “Untitled.” Only after I lowered my expectations did I begin to enjoy Rothko’s work. It turns out that I don’t have to start bawling in front of these paintings to claim that I liked them.
One of the biggest complaints I hear from others about art is that they “don’t get it.” However, the expectation that we have to “get something” is exactly what sets us up for failure, especially when we expect the “something” to be earth-shattering. It’s unlikely that you’ll burst into tears upon seeing Vincent Van Gogh, Amedeo Modigliani or even Caravaggio’s pieces. The unrealistic expectation that you’ll have a revelation the moment you step into an art museum does more harm than good. If you set your expectations that high only to have them not be met, you’ll feel ripped off. Not to mention, the disappointment makes it highly unlikely that you’ll want to go back to an art museum ever again.
In an article for Psychology Today Alan Jern mentioned a study done by David Bell that dealt with people's fear of disappointment. Bell’s study gave people the option to choose between a guaranteed $3,000 or an 80 percent chance at getting $4,000. What Bell found was that the 20 percent possibility of getting nothing was enough for people to relegate themselves to a guaranteed lower dollar amount. Much like with art, the fear of the low possibility of getting nothing out of a painting seems to be enough to scare people off for good. But that shouldn’t be the case.
The problem is a fundamental misunderstanding of the value of art. Those powerful emotions we associate with art are there; they’re just built up over a lifetime. In my experience, art’s ability to stir emotions comes less from any internal aspect of the painting itself but rather from your personal connections to the artwork. Above my computer in my dorm is Van Gogh’s “Bedroom in Arles.” It isn’t necessarily the prettiest painting, but I have it up here because my dad always compared it to his “garret” when he was in graduate school. Through that connection, the painting gains an added meaning about how education is so important it is worth sacrificing comfort. Scratched on the bottom left corner in pencil is the date I bought it, a reminder that I bought it while traveling for a tournament with my debate team. Those personal connections are the reason I put this painting above my desk, and not the brushstrokes or the colors of the painting.
Because of that, it is nearly impossible to expect to be moved to such an extent on your first visit. Even for a “seasoned art veteran” (a term I dislike precisely because it oozes with the exact kind of pretentiousness that got us here), the expectation that most paintings will bring you to tears is often unrealistic. With that in mind, it becomes unreasonable to expect such a thing on your first or even occasional visit to an art gallery.
Where does this expectation come from, then? A combination of reasons have brought us here, but the biggest seems to be a McCarthyist-esque sense of elitism. I get the feeling that people are somewhat afraid to admit that they don’t experience the advertised spiritual enlightenment because they’re afraid of being branded as “uncultured.” It’s time to stop being afraid to admit that the main reason we love art is because it’s beautiful. It is the beauty that stirs the emotions and enhances our lives. By beauty, I don’t mean just visual beauty. The thoughts and reactions that art provokes are equally important.
Instead, we should try to view paintings similarly to sunsets. Sunsets, like paintings, can stir powerful emotions. But if those emotions aren’t stirred, that doesn’t detract from the value of the sunset. What then makes paintings unique is the wide variety that can easily connect with the viewer’s lived experiences. There truly is something for everyone.
Once we learn to stop being intimidated by art, it becomes shockingly easy to enjoy. The beauty is that both the person who cries at and ignores Rothko have equally legitimate reactions. The fact of the matter is that you’re entitled to your own opinion, and being able to connect to something as beautiful as art should not be gatekept by whether you have the “right” opinion or not.
It is a grave mistake to be discouraged if you don’t start with that personal connection. Don’t get hung up on whether you “get” an artwork or not. Focus instead on enjoying the experience. If you don’t make an effort to expose yourself to art, then it’s unlikely you’ll ever experience its power. My advice? Just go to art museums. Like what you like, then the rest will come.
Deniz Kurdi is a freshman in the School of Public Affairs and a columnist for The Eagle.
This article was edited by Quinn Volpe, Alana Parker and Abigail Turner. Copy editing done by Luna Jinks, Emma Brown, Nicole Kariuki and Charlie Mennuti.
