Standing Still: In Defence of Direct Experience with Art

Unidentified man viewing my video "Vincent Price's Ups and Downs" at Chartreuse Gallery in Phoenix, AZ.

What does it mean to stand still and truly engage with an artwork?

It does not require a degree in art history or theory. It requires humility. With art, it isn't a win or lose thing. If you don’t understand a work immediately, neither you nor the artwork has failed. Visual art is not meant to function like a news broadcast or a comic strip, delivering instant clarity and closure. It is expressions of thought carried across time and space.

Every artwork, whether painted, sculpted, filmed, or rendered digitally, is one person’s communication layered with cultural nuance and shaped by the creator’s particular way of seeing. To engage with it is to meet that communication halfway. You must open yourself to it, weigh what you encounter against your own experiences and beliefs, and allow meaning to emerge slowly. Understanding requires something from you.

Sometimes you may need context, a key to unlock part of the work. Give yourself permission to try first. Stand with the piece. Let it speak. Then, if you require support, read the wall text or catalogue and return to the work again. Understanding rarely happens all at once. Art can reveal different things at different times of day, in different moods, and at different moments in your life. In the end, you will find meaning that resonates with you. On a number of occasions, I have found meaning in artworks that contradicted general translations. When that happens, I don't immediately think I got it wrong, it meant something to me. I hold onto my understanding and compare notes with others. Maybe my reading was only shallow and someone else read it deeper. Art very often deserves conversations to draw out biases and novel perspectives. I find it especially important to talk about contemporary art as it is infused with conceptual supports, and talking it through with someone helps.

Children understand this instinctively. I have watched them respond to paintings with their bodies, dancing in front of gestural canvases, mirroring movement and emotion without hesitation. They do not worry about being correct. They are open, responsive, and unguarded. In a society that increasingly struggles with listening and humility, introducing children to art and to the patience it requires feels more necessary than ever.

Art requires us to slow down to listen with our hearts.

 "Your realizations are no longer your own; prepackaged interpretations shape them. The experience shifts from an internal dialogue to an externally managed one."

The Problem with Mediated Experience

Increasingly, however, we are encouraged not to experience art directly but through layers of technology: augmented reality overlays, projection mapping, interactive screens, and guided interfaces. These digital tools promise to enhance engagement, to make art more accessible, more exciting, more “relevant.” But they also risk displacing the very thing that gives art its power: the private, reflective encounter between artwork and viewer.

When technology inserts itself into that encounter, it takes control of the narrative. It determines what information is delivered, in what order, and with what emphasis. Your realizations are no longer your own; prepackaged interpretations shape them. The experience shifts from an internal dialogue to an externally managed one.

The result is a more passive form of consumption. Instead of grappling with uncertainty and forming personal interpretations, viewers receive curated explanations delivered through a device. The wonder, curiosity, and even productive confusion that arise from direct engagement are redirected toward the spectacle of the technology itself. The artwork becomes secondary.

This matters because the encounter with art is fundamentally relational. Just as physical contact between parent and child establishes belonging and connection, a direct encounter with an artwork establishes a subtle but real connection between creator and audience. Art can collapse time and distance. It can present a way of seeing that alters how you understand something forever—if you allow it to.

Museums and galleries are, in this sense, cultural cathedrals. They are spaces where individuals can encounter aspects of themselves and of humanity more broadly. Art can be austere, sensual, ugly, hilarious, or transcendent, just like people. It is, in a very real sense, soul food. But nourishment requires attention. It requires the presence of both body and mind.

"When museums deploy technology to “grab attention” in a high-stimulus environment, they risk reinforcing the very habits that prevent deeper engagement."

When Technology Becomes the Experience

Advocates of augmented and virtual reality in museums argue that these tools add interpretive layers, attract wider audiences, and make collections more engaging. They are often cheaper to implement than fully immersive installations and rely on devices visitors already carry. In an era when cultural institutions face financial pressure and declining attendance, such arguments are compelling.

Yet these solutions typically address symptoms rather than causes. If visitors spend only a few seconds in front of an artwork, does this reflect a failure in captivating a viewer with an original artwork, or a broader cultural failure to cultivate cultural reverence, attention, and patience? When museums deploy technology to “grab attention” in a high-stimulus environment, they risk reinforcing the very habits that prevent deeper engagement.

Technology designed to make art more exciting can inadvertently teach viewers that art, on its own, is insufficient and that it must be animated, augmented, or explained to be meaningful. In doing so, it undermines confidence in both the institution and the artwork. The analog presence of a painting or sculpture begins to appear archaic, as though it cannot compete with the mediated experiences that surround it.

This is not an argument against technology itself. Technology has clear uses and benefits. But when it stands between an individual and an artwork, when it becomes the primary channel of experience, it can shield viewers from the uncertainty and introspection that make art meaningful. It encourages immediate comprehension rather than patient exploration.

"Artworks are among the most honest and deliberate objects human beings create. They deserve the time and attention required to meet them on their own terms."

The Value of Slow Looking

Art rewards slow consumption. Often it requires revisiting an artwork without immediate payoff. Writing functions the same way, just like serious reading or listening. These practices run counter to a culture oriented around speed, novelty, and constant stimulation. But they cultivate forms of attention and reflection that are increasingly rare and increasingly necessary.

A meaningful encounter with art begins privately. Look first. Listen to your own reactions. Sit with your confusion or discomfort. Only afterward should interpretation become public through conversation, debate, or scholarship. When interpretation is delivered immediately through technological mediation, this internal process is short-circuited.

Great art will reveal the viewers to themselves. That revelation cannot be outsourced.

To engage with art is not to touch it or perform in front of it. It is to approach it with respect, even when you dislike it. Artworks are among the most honest and deliberate objects human beings create. They deserve the time and attention required to meet them on their own terms.

Toward an Informed Culture

If museums and galleries hope to foster deeper engagement, the solution does not lie in more technological overlays but in cultivating informed audiences of people that know how to look, reflect, and linger. Countries with strong public engagement in the arts demonstrate that this is possible. Cultural literacy, not technological spectacle, sustains meaningful participation.

What we need is not more mediation, but more confidence: confidence in viewers’ ability to think and feel for themselves, and confidence in the artworks that institutions choose to present. If an artwork has been selected and preserved, it is worth our time and trust, like a book in a library or an article in a respected newspaper.

Stand in front of it. Open yourself to it and let it reveal itself. Be patient with what you do not yet understand.

Leave the device in your pocket.