Tanya and I have spent two days exploring two of the great museums of the world — the Prado and the Reina Sofia, both in Madrid. The Prado’s collection consists mostly of works from the 16th and 17th Century. It includes many of the most important works of the era. The Reina Sofia’s collection consists mostly of work from late 19th and 20th Centuries. Tanya preferred the Prado and I, the Reina Sofia. Tanya said that the Prado put her back in touch with why she wanted to be an artist in the first place. Many of the paintings were ones she had studied in Art school.
The Prado did not move me in the way that it did her. Many of the works in their collection were biblical scenes interpreted by the artist or portraits of noble people. These paintings were either commissioned by the church or by a wealthy family, two types of patrons that are near vomit-inducing to me. The biblical scenes were usually the artist’s interpretation of some part of Jesus’s life, usually either his being born or his dying. There seems to be an entire body of work missing — Jesus’s little league team, his senior prom, college graduation, all missing. The portraits of noblewomen were usually dressed in some high collared garment that resembled a neck brace while the men favored funny hats.
After a while, the paintings evolved into biblical scenes where the women were topless. And then there was Rubens. Rubens seemed to favor paintings involving rape, beheadings, and/or satan. There were also still lifes and landscapes. I attribute these to be because this was an age of exploration and discovery. Something had to adorn the walls of those early ships plying the seas, just like the Viking Cruises of today, Viking ships of yore must have had similar, albeit higher quality art. The skill of these artists was undeniable, but being limited in their subject matter made the art less interesting to me. Occasionally, the artist would slip a subversive image into a painting, but that was about it for imagination.
The gap of more than two centuries between the Prado collection and the Reina Sofia collection showed how much the world changed in the intervening centuries. The Reina Sofia had very little figurative work. The best known piece in the Reina Sofia was Picasso’s “Guernica”. There were a number of Picassos on display. This not the first time that I have seen Picasso’s work in a museum, but there’s really nothing like it. His genius just flies off the wall. The museum in Tel Aviv displayed three small works of his from different periods of his life. It was a joy to see how he transformed and reinvented art. The Reina Sofia had numerous works by Picasso and many more by artists influenced by Picasso. Seeing these paintings, drawings and sculptures was to be in the presence of greatness. If I see God, I want it to be through the eyes of Picasso.
In addition, there were works by many other artists, including Dali, who is another personal favorite. We wandered for hours in each museum (something we seldom do) and could have wandered more, so vast and interesting were their collections.
As with any museum, some of the art moved me while others barely caught my eye. This art watching started me thinking about what qualified a piece to be art, and if it was art, what made it great? Everyone has their one definition, some would say that art should be above judgement. For me, it’s a little more complicated. I think there are a few tests that I apply to a piece to determine whether I, (a) want to think of the piece as art, and (b) want to consider it good or great. I am sure others will disagree and that’s fine, we must all be our own arbiters of taste.
First, I think a work of art must have an element of craftsmanship. I don’t want to look at a piece of art and think with a high degree of confidence that I could have made the piece myself. I say this as an average guy with no particular skill or talent — not as a painter evaluating the work of other painters, or a carver evaluating the work of other carvers.
The next test that I apply is, would I have thought to make whatever the piece is? Obviously, this test is more difficult to apply as something figurative involves fewer choices by the artist than something abstract. However, how the subject is posed and lighted and adorned are all ultimately decisions of the artist and show the artist’s vision. The craftsmanship is how they carry out that vision.
The third test, is that if I had the ability and the imagination to create the work, would I have done it? This is maybe more about what I would want hanging on my walls. There are a number of pieces of art in the world that I would not want on my walls. That doesn’t mean someone would. As with most of my rules, these are more guidelines, not all three have to be met and there are no checklists. I don’t walk through a museum actively asking these questions about each piece, it’s usually only when I am in a quandary about a certain piece.
This is probably part of what makes being an artist difficult, knowing that everyone who sees your work is passing judgment on it and on you. It’s also knowing that most of the people who see your work probably won’t like it that much. For that, I try to not express my opinion on creative works very often. People doing creative things should be encouraged because they are putting piece of themselves out into the world and should be respected for that.
The Reina Sofia had a large exhibit of Ceija Stojka, a gypsy or Romany holocaust survivor, who died in 2013. She spent time in several Nazi concentration camps. She started painting in 1988 at the age of 55 and was self-taught. Most of her paintings were about her early life. There works were mostly on paper and sometimes her technique could be described as crude. But, she developed her craft and created a large body of incredibly powerful work and clearly conveyed the atrocities she saw. That’s why we should be kind in our criticism — it took her 55 years to start painting and she did incredibly powerful work until she died. I wouldn’t want negativity to drive an artist not to share their work.