Popular reactions to art

A few months back, the touring Leonardo Da Vinci reproduction exhibition “Opera Omnia” made a stop in Kuala Lumpur. Whilst obviously not the originals, 17 decent reproductions were made on transparent canvas and backlit to simulate the experience of viewing a well-lit painting as closely as possible. I say ‘decent’ because the method was quite clever, but close up some of the the reproductions clearly lacked the print resolution required to really capture the subtlety of the originals – both Da Vinci’s own extremely fine brushstrokes on areas such as hair, but also the ageing and craquelure that’s a large part of the experience. Obviously, the “3D-ness” of real paint were not reproduced, though I suspect with a little less diffusion on the light used for the initial reproduction, some shadows of surface texture might have been captured. Interestingly, even behind barriers, glass, and at a greater distance – the originals somehow feel much more textural than the reproductions. But I digress – this is not so much about the reproduction method as more general commentary on the public and the way art is seen/appreciated/interpreted in general.

We need to firstly give credit to the Italian embassy for undertaking the exercise at all – even with reproductions, this is not a trivial undertaking, especially considering The Last Supper was printed full size and seamlessly on a single piece of media – a whopping 4.6×8.8m. On the whole, it was well presented and well executed, especially given the limited number of works actually completed by the artist. Furthermore, the exhibition has gone to a lot of cities without a strong existing art or cultural background, enabling a cross section of the population to appreciate it whom might not otherwise have had the chance. And even then, the works are spread sufficiently distantly that they’re not easy to view even for somebody with the time and inclination, much less a casual tourist.

I think these are not easy works to appreciate; they lack the instant punch that something in vivid colours and grand scale might have. It’s important to remember that the originals are now half a millennium old, and frankly – there is no way to know how the originals looked, and how much age has both diminished the original and created the current patinated object. In short – in common memory, the paintings have always looked old. For the average viewer, they might notice a certain consistent tonal palette tending towards the warm and pastel, but with rich shadows, and the odd sensation of fuzziness or smoothness (“sfumato”) juxtaposed against areas of acutely realistic detail (individual hairs out of place, the way leaves in shadow are rendered, or musculature hinted at under skin, for instance). The overall impression is one of controlled, almost airbrushed perfection mated with just enough cues to suggest reality. This is probably heretical, but modern fashion spreads come to mind – an idealised presentation of an idea (or personality) rather than a physical individual.

But – you have to really stop and look observantly to see any of this. And the sad thing is, most of the people stop long enough to take a picture with their phones to look at later (why?!) or a selfie (ugh) – and move on to the next painting. Judging by facial expressions and time spent per painting – perhaps 1-2% of the audience really looked. The rest probably couldn’t figure out what the big deal was, and went back for another selfie with the Mona Lisa (conveniently placed near the entrance, leaving the reproductions of his notebooks with theories of geometry and flight blissfully empty at the back).

We first went on a Sunday morning at opening, and the gallery was packed – I doubt the National Art Gallery here saw that many visitors in the entire preceding month as that single morning. It was impossible to actually see the paintings without either obstructing or being obstructed; much like the originals in their respective galleries. (What I’ll never understand though is the Malaysian penchant for poking the artwork – why? I’ve had the same problem at every one of my exhibitions, with inevitable surface damage from sticky/oily/careless fingers. Art does not give consent, therefore the answer is always “no touching!”). Visiting midweek proved no better – but the cross section of society was different, being mostly professionals and families on the weekend and retirees and school groups during the week. Admirably, the school groups were actually “convinced” to spend some time studying the paintings through being asked to sketch their impressions – which is better than the retirees, who turned out to be the worst surface-pokers of the lot. And almost nobody read the captions or contextual information presented together.

This leads to a greater question of whether what are considered the great classical works of art are too esoteric and require too much education for the average person to appreciate. How much of their veneration is down to the hype and surrounding media circus, and how much down to actual recognition of inherent qualities? Put another way: other than The Last Supper and the Mona Lisa, it’s debatable whether any of the works would have been recognised outside the exhibition by not just our local crowd (remember: Christianity and its icons are not really taught or well known in a Muslim society), but even a less culturally distant one. Perhaps this has always been the case and I’ve just noticed, but it seems mass hype (now driven by social media, instead of the newspapers etc. of the past) applies to pretty much everything from cameras to watches to cars to art. The greater populace seems more willing to accept what they’re told on the basis of “expert” opinion, rather than being objective. Ironically, this is even more important with anything that’s heavily subjective; just as nobody else can say whether product xyz works for your circumstances and needs, nobody can tell you whether you like a piece of art or not.

But it’s becoming increasingly difficult to fight the tide – either you succumb to the hype, create your own hype, or are going to find it exponentially difficult to be unconventional because there’s suddenly not just no support, but actively projected negativity. And you can bet whatever dollars you wish that the mass-averaged product isn’t going to be the best one – it’s just going to be the one that’s easiest to sell. To most, Da Vinci is famous because his paintings are worth hundreds of millions of dollars, and they’re worth millions of dollars because he’s famous – not because he mastered both technique and understanding of subject in an age where most science was either nonexistent or considered witchcraft. Worse, the sums talked about are so vast that they’re incomprehensible in a third world country where costs of living spiral hand in hand with consumer debt (admittedly, abstraction of value might make it easier to assess a picture based on inherent qualities other than monetary value). But the one thing that is relatively accessible and easily available is knowledge – there’s no reason for ignorance because you’re poor. But it is ignorance that keeps you poor.

It’s clear that with a bit of knowledge or trying to imagine painting one of those pictures for yourself, even with modern techniques and technology, it’s doubtful we could do a “better” – or even more aesthetically pleasing – job today; this is what makes him a master for the ages. Perhaps not everybody will understand, but hopefully accessibility to knowledge means more will – before we lose appreciation for art and its aspirational drive for us to create. MT

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