PrintIn his essay on art, ‘The Renaissance,” critic Walter Pater writes, “Not the fruit of experience, but experience itself is the end.” Pater asks that we delve into our psyches and truly “experience” moments that might otherwise pass us by. But if you recall visiting a museum at age six and thinking you would rather be anywhere else but there, you know that nobody is born with an innate understanding of how to view art.
So when does our perception of art begin to change? Is it only after taking an art history course that art starts to pulse with significance, or can we appreciate art without knowing a lot about it? Robert L. Solso, head of the Cognitive Laboratory at the University of Nevada, has a theory. As he writes in his book, The Psychology of Art and the Evolution of the Conscious Brain, “The coincidental development of modern man and manifest art objects was enormously important because ... both were the direct consequence of the rise of consciousness.”
Solso’s model shows that the transformation from our club-bearing ancestors to modern humanity is similar to how a young child develops into an adult, replacing the baby blanket with an iPhone. As we become more conscious of the world around us, our perception of art changes to fit our individual perspective. Many associate their discovery of art with a significant moment in their education. Professor Keith Moxey, the art history department chair at Barnard, says, “I only became interested in art as an undergraduate because I’d never had much contact with it previously.” Two other art history professors at Columbia, Anne Higonnet and Natalie Kampen, have similar responses. While Higonnet visited many museums and churches as a young child—“My parents wouldn’t take no for an answer”—she recalls that her love for art history “began with a great teacher in high school.”
Professor Kampen, who specializes in Greek and Roman art, believes, “Everyone has more fun with art if he [or] she knows something about who made it and in what circumstances.” Ancient art, for example, has specific functions and iconography. A person who knows nothing about classical pottery might have a hard time truly appreciating a Greek vase, even though it still has universal aesthetic value. “If you present it as some sort of abstraction, ‘ART,’ in which they’re expected to admire it without a sense of how it was used, most folks nod politely,” notes Kampen.
Art history students agree. Dina Georgas, BC ’11, an art history major, admits that her Greek heritage makes her biased towards Greek art—“It brings my universe into center,” she says with a grin. But with a little nudge from a modern literature course, Georgas’ thoughts began to change. “My taste is still very traditional, but taking Modernism has made me appreciate contemporary art more because I understand more about the time period,” she says. In fact, when asked whether she prefers Sandro Botticelli’s classical Primavera (1478) or Marcel Duchamp’s highly abstract Nude Descending a Staircase, No. 2 (1912), Georgas picks the latter. “I like the compositional dynamics,” she says. “It’s like seeing the human figure through the modern lens.”
Yet there is more to consciousness—and more to art—then learning about history. After all, Walter Pater insists that art is about pure experience rather than analysis. A perceptive eight year old just might prove Pater right. Ella Braunstein, a second grader at Bank Street College School for Children, makes exceptional observations when shown the Botticelli and Duchamp. “I like the Duchamp because it reminds me of the Tin Man from The Wizard of Oz,” she says. “But it also reminds me of seasickness, which I don’t like.” She found the Botticelli strange because “everyone is totally ignoring everyone else,” revealing a crucial aspect of the painting that is often overshadowed by the complex mythical imagery.
Ella’s education in art has already begun. She has been painting since the age of 2 and saw Michelangelo’s David on a trip to Florence, something that many college students would die for. Ella eagerly gives me a tour of the many paintings on display in her apartment. Her style ranges from broad colorful strokes that look like magnified Pollocks (painted at age 2) to dramatic trees against a deep blue sky (age 4). Ella demonstrates a knowledge of art well beyond her years—until she shyly says, “Museums make me bored sometimes,” and becomes eight years old again.
While education enhances our perception—Professor Higonnet says her taste in art “keeps evolving”—Ella’s ability to relate art to life experiences like movies, emotions, and feelings proves that art speaks to our inner conscious, even at a young age. One can only imagine where art might lead Ella in the future, especially if she chooses to study it. But one thing is certain: her perception of art will continue to change as long as she continues to experience.