Surprise and delight at the museum

I’ve always enjoyed museums - particularly those of focused on the visual arts. But most any museum will draw my interest - historical, natural, cultural, scientific, etc. When on vacation I almost certainly include one or more on my itinerary, and I am always reminding myself to take greater advantage of those local to my home.

A visit to the museum is an intentional act of learning, a fundamentally optimistic exercise. We go to experience something new, feel an emotional resonance, and share a common experience with others. It’s a small leap of faith that we need more of in our lives.

Every time I leave a museum, I feel better.

Recently I was fortunate to travel to England for a bit. I made time to visit several institutions - world class museums that hold art and inspiration aplenty. While roaming the streets of London and reflecting on my experience, I started to identify the kernel of emotion that partially makes museums so rewarding.

It was surprise.

Walking the halls and looking at the art and displays, I would often feel a gentle shock. I would literally gasp, or laugh, or stop in my tracks. Surprise perforated the day - but it was nuanced, and there were two specific flavors to unpack. The surprise of recognition and the surprise of connection.

Recognition is a particular experience when you are in some of the great museums of the world. You turn a corner and ‘BAM’, there lies a work of art that you have seen all your life in pictures, coffee mugs, books, and elsewhere.

Two examples to share. When I was in Liverpool at the Walker Art Gallery, I was strolling from room to room, and there he was:

I was as familiar with this image as my childhood dog. I have seen it in countless history books and media images - Henry VIII in all his glory. The painting was so known to me, so embedded in my subconscious that it was like encountering a friend. And there it was, in person, for real.

On that same trip I spent some time in the British Museum, world known for its holdings, many of which are controversial. Walking through the Assyrian galleries, I felt drawn to a small room with wall-to-wall panels of stone, depicting a famous lion hunt. My memory banks started to tingle, and then I saw this:

I was floored. I remembered studying this image in college, part of some ancient history class or something. It has always haunted me. The pain and pathos of this poor creature - the empathy shown by the artist 3,000 years ago. Again, it felt so familiar, so emotionally tangible. The surprise of recognition - the familiarity, the feeling of encountering something I knew but had never actually seen - washed over me.

The second flavor of surprise is that of connection. Of art, artist, and viewer all finding common ground and conveying a message across the years. In my recent trip to England, two paintings in particular drove this feeling home. The first seemed to be a mostly domestic scene:

But when you learn more about the image, it’s much more nuanced - and frankly - amusing. In the far background a group of people chat and enjoy dinner. In fact, it is Christ, Mary, and a batch of disciples preaching, praying, doing the Lord’s work, etc.

But the focus of the painting is on the foreground, where Mary’s sister, Martha, is stuck in the kitchen, seemingly annoyed at having to do the hard work while the others congregate. You can see the real human mood, almost hearing Martha mentally complaining and wishing she could be upstairs with the grownups. Apparently this scene was common subject for painters of the era. But for me, I smiled at the connection I felt with her, and knew I would feel similarly aggrieved had I been in that situation.

But the kicker was the next painting - Ecce Homo:

Look closely at this amazing piece. It depicts Pontius Pilate pointing to Jesus and asking the crowd “Behold the Man." Yet despite the seriousness of the subject, when I first saw this painting I laughed out loud.

Look at the expression of Pontius. He seems so perplexed and a bit confused as to what all the fuss is about. You can imagine him saying loudly “Seriously Bro? Is this the guy?”

Jesus seems to sigh, resigned to his fate, thinking perhaps “Dude, I told you…”

The image is so accessible and emotionally current - so modern. When most paintings of this era depict dour kings, overly serious portraits, and way, way too many depictions of the Virgin Mary….this painting - to me - proves that people back then could also laugh, be irreverent, and process raw, complicated feelings.

In both cases, these paintings were made nearly 500 years ago, yet the humor, humanity, the wry almost sarcastic mood felt as fresh as anything I might see today in a meme or social media post.

That’s the miracle of museums and art across the ages. They provoke recognition and connection with generations past and future. They show us that people have always had the same issues, problems, hopes, and dreams that we struggle with today.

So go visit a museum soon. Put things in perspective, and enjoy the surprise and delight that they afford us all.

Farewell photo

A little slice of life, until next time…

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Disclaimer:

All content and opinions are solely those of the author (Jack), and not representative of my employer, former employers, clients, anyone in Congress, my family, former college roommates, Baptists, the good citizens of Colorado, or my dog Mabel.