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The Tate Britain in London, England has a number of leaflets in the entrance that tell you which couple of pictures on a particular theme to look at if you opnly have a few minutes or are feeling blue or are on a date etc etc Great idea !

How many things are missed at first glance?

So much...too much. Alas.

Here in the Netherlands there is a televisionshow for children called somethng like lookers. And their tagline (translated without the actual text by me!)e is) olives are yuckie you have to learn to eat them. To learn to do that you first need to learn to taste. The same it is with art. Before apreciating it you'll have to learn to look..

The program shows all sorts of different short films that make you look differently. ( I remember a film with red things found in streets all over the world but a film of the beach with the smae men over and over again sometimes just disapearing in to the sand or sea( It is so fun to notice that when we watched with 3 people we al saw different things..
I thought of this while reading your article..

I read from my Bible every day, and sometimes I choose an entire passage or chapter or book (if it is a small one) and read it daily for a solid month. I hold on to what God has revealed for far longer, I understand it better, I feel it and get to know it, and, many times, I hit the end of the month and find that I am still discovering new things from the same words.

yes...i have a few books of poetry or literature that each time i read, i learn something new or view it from a different perspective.

i agree with you that a piece of art in a gallery wasn't meant to be put near hundreds of others.

knowing this now will help me to be more mindful when i am absorbing art in a gallery or elsewhere. to take my time and not finish...perhaps come back to look some more.

thank you for this.

how beautifully true keri. i read those first lines and found myself nodding, smiling and saying yes!

i'm the same way. i like to absorb the moment. sometimes, as though taking in each stroke of the paintbrush in a sense of trying to feel, and not simply see the painting. or in a photograph, stepping into it. not always to analyse, but to see what's between the light and the shadow. almost as trying to discover a secret that was left behind.

when i previously had my gallery, i had a lady that came in almost every day. she was quiet, maybe shy is the answer, but she didn't need to say much to be bold [in a precious way]. i always wanted my guests [well, hopefully customers was the better word] to take their time with the paintings. i'd over them a mug of coffee or a glass of water, simply to make them feel more at ease. i had furniture in the gallery, in each room to offer sitting space. but this particular lady had did it just perfectly, in her own quiet way.

each day, there was only one room that she would "absorb". it wasn't a big gallery, most rooms having just 5 to 6 paintings. but she would simply come, one room at a time and sit there. looking.

i'd offer her a coffee or water and usually she'd say no. i believe it was because she was simply shy, but after the fourth visit, she finally said yes. i think we just mutually understood. and i soon realised that her favourite room was the hallway, and she'd simply sit on the stairs.

i came to look forward to her visits, even though having the business, you'd be glad if people didn't just come to look, rather buy as well.

and the day that this particular exhibit was "complete" for her, she came into the gallery, brought me a package of coffee and purchased a greeting card from another artist. it was a sale that i so appreciated because although small, it was her way of contributing. simply saying thank you.

i like to take the neighbour's or a friend's kids out for walks. first off, they slow the pace down and second off, they teach me. because they discover every crack on the street, every little pebble and all the things that we always overlook. and the simpliest things with the happiest in awe eyes.

simply absorbing. life and the smallest, most wonderful things.

i think i've maybe said too much?

but you simply rekindled a thought. igniting something. not just in art, but in life.

thank you keri!

angela.

i couldn't agree with you more. my most memorable experiences in museums or large galleries is to decide ahead what floor or piece of the place i want to view.
you hit it on the head with your comparisons to reading, listening or watching. it is the same.
we are in information overload.
slow down?

thanks for making such a great blog... first visit and will be back!
susan

I used to read that book as a little girl when I was visiting my grandparents. My Nana loved birds. She and I would sit in the window and watch them. She could name them all.

of all the pages in a book could have found, you found a treasure of mine too.

I am lovin' the image from the field guide... the shadows of birds. I acquired some shadows the other day too, albeit in a little different form. :)

See here

Why not walk into a museum and just go to see one piece. Stop and enjoy it, sit awhile longer. And then leave. Why do we feel we need to see everything each time? Why not when something touches us, stop hold its hand, and be with it alone.

Oh, how I hate the rush-through wonderful museum type people! My aunt is like that... she'll pay 100 dollars to go to the best museum in the world, and then just skim through in fifteen minutes. "Why are you reading everything about the exhibits?" She'll ask me. Duh. Thaat's what a mueseum is for. But, I love to sit and stare at a painting, poem, book, or even a normal object to memorize it, and know it from every angle. especially Serot paintings. I love Serot. That was random.

I do this too! When I used to live in London and then subsequently when I travelled to London on business I used to dash into the National Gallery to look at the Claude Lorrain paintings that I love. I often walked straight through the galleries to the room where they were hung, not stopping to look at any other pictures. If I was in a rush, it would be a very quick walk round the room and out again. There was a time when UK galleries and museums talked about charging an entrance fee. OK for people who wanted to spend several hours browsing but impractical for those of us who like our art in small doses!

Keri you have absolutely nailed a notion that has been troubling me for years. (I hadn't figured it out yet myself.) I studied art history in college and loved learning about it, but found that every time I went to a gallery I felt overwhelmed and left wanting. I had decided that I must be an art-loving imposter or something. But after reading your wonderful post, I can see now that I just couldn't take it all in at once. It would have been a luxury to sit and absorb several works, rather than feeling like I was breezing by everything because I had to cram it all into one day. Thanks for making me feel so much better about this, I may actually want to go to a gallery again soon.

i never thought of that before, that pieces of art were not made to be looked at in a succession of others... that's so interesting and can be applied to so much in life. thanks for bringing that to my attention! :)

A few years ago I came up with my own "Gallery Overload Prevention System" after too many experiences of leaving with my brain nearly dead from over-stimulation. I enter a gallery room, stand still and quickly scan the walls taking note of the pieces that really pop out for me. I go and look at ONLY those pieces (usually is 2 or 3 in each room). Then I move on to the next room and repeat the scan. I used to feel obligated to give my time to every single piece on the wall. Crazy. I don't feel obligated to read every book in the library. If it is a small gallery, sometimes when I am "finished" I still have the mental room to look at more. That is when I backtrack and give some time to the pieces that didn't make my "first cut".

Thankyou, for introducing me to Mary Oliver! I have just spent half an hour researching her and her evocative poetry. Like many others who have left a comment I am about to go travelling and shall bear your post in mind.

The Twenty Minute Special does exist, although it's called a Membership and usually it requires you sell all that you have in order to afford it. And then you still have to pay for parking...

One of my favorite pleasures in life is to re-read books at different ages, or different seasons, or states of mind and recall how I've felt at each time. I think so differently about books such as The Bell Jar or The Great Gatsby now than I did when I originally read them. Books tell us so much about how we view the world; to carry one for a year would make it a sort of secret, permanant part of your person--sounds beautiful! Thanks for sharing.

I'm just about to go travelling for hopefully a very long time. I'm going to have to remember this advice! I ended up with cathedral / gallery burnout after my first six month trip away.

It also prompted me to write something I've been thinking about appreciating books and houses and places and people - strange just before I leave Adelaide, potentially forever.

This was the perfect post to get me in the right mindframe for two upcoming trips to Vancouver and New York. During both trips, I will have limited time to myself and I've felt overwhelmed trying to pack it all into my schedule. You've reminded me that I need to go for true experiences instead of experiencing everything. Now I'm going to spend some extra time going over the websites of museums I want to visit, contemplating just what I want to see and I'll focus on those moments... and make sure I give myself every day to contemplate instead of getting caught up in the rush of the city.

However, I don't think museums necessarily need to provide a special discount deal for "slow contemplation"; I'd wager that those who take your approach get more value for their entrance fee than most. Still, I wouldn't mind a "slow contemplation" day that bans tour groups and noisy speed visitors.

Hi Keri,

This is my first time commenting on your site. I have Living Out Loud and love it! I also follow your blog now and again. This post resonated with me as I have recently been listening to John O'Donahue's Beauty on disc in the car. I find that I need to play sections over and over again to really let it sink in. I am that way with books as well and I know exactly what you mean about art galleries! Thanks for your inspiring work!

Jill

You might enjoy some work by Bill Viola which almost rewards the viewer for spending more time contemplating his work.

*just a thought*

That's a good idea about art galleries/museums. If you ever go to D.C. - the galleries/museums there are free so no pass needed there.