Six years ago, right about this time of year, buffeted by wind and approaching rain, I shivered in the cold while waiting in a queue outside St. Petersburg’s renowned State Hermitage Museum. Unlike most visitors, who checked their coats and bags in the cloakroom, I piled my gear into my backpack, then bypassed the people milling about in the large entrance foyer and made a beeline for the galleries.
Like a kid entering a gigantesque candy store, I was bowled over by the visual feast that greeted me; the sheer immensity, grandeur and lush colors were cotton candy to my eyes. The exquisite silence that echoed in each room, hanging in the folds of heavy window drapes, gave me a taste of what it might have been like to live inside these quarters centuries ago. Even the elderly docent, her purple-tinted hair coiffed just so, tip-toed beside me, as if wary of making a sound.
Then the shuffling of rubber soles and click-clack of approaching high heels brought me back to reality, reminding me that tourists were on the loose nearby. Like a herd of horses, they came barreling into the gallery. I stood back from the hordes, anticipating mayhem – and blocked views of the paintings.
But I needn’t have worried. These ‘check-list’ tourists, digital camera ready in hand, were short on time – and long on lenses. Literally. Lenses of all kinds dangling from their bags, shoulders and backpacks.
One by one, they would stop – more like skid – in front of a painting, long enough only to read the title and determine whether the artwork was created by a ‘famous artist.’ If so, they would call out to their co-tourist friends, snap a shot of the painting in question and in seconds, scurry off to the next piece. The painting had barely registered a blip on their eyeball – and already they were off.. to the races. Renoir! Matisse! Oh look here! They dashed between one painting to the next, from one gallery to the other, capturing in the space of a nano-second viewing, nothing more than a photographic record of the paintings that hung on the wall.
It was an astonishing sight. What was the point?
I was reminded of that bizarre experience in wind-swept Russia just the other day when I went to see the World Press Photo exhibit in Old Montreal. Over the years, I’ve come to appreciate the exquisite moments of life, war, death, birth and the human experience that photographers around the world have captured over the past year. The images never fail to enlighten, surprise, inform, sadden, and amaze me. I can stand in front of a single photograph for fifteen minutes (if it were possible to do so), or circle back to it later; observing, imagining, trying to recreate the bigger story of what happened just before – or possibly right after, the image was taken.
The photos drip with joy, agony, ecstasy, terror and love. How can one not be frozen in place, at the very least for a few moments, captivated by the single slice of human emotion or landscape?
When I entered the large hall in the Marché Bonsecours, the place was abuzz. A quick glance around confirmed that a school field trip was underway; a large gaggle of uniformed private-school teenage girls were huddling, chatting, squealing and generally acting like teenagers do.
But then I noticed the St Petersburg Phenomenon – with a twist. Instead of digital cameras at the ready, each one of these girls had their smartphones in hand. And, as if they were on a school photography assignment (which, perhaps, they were), they snapped away.. one photograph or detail or label after the other. They didn’t look up – or at – the photograph itself, but only at the image they were trying to capture through their phone.
I stood back and watched the girls for awhile, both amused and stumped.
And then I remembered how, when I was a little girl and my sisters and I would visit a museum, it was a quiet affair. No sounds of digital doodads, no photographs being taken of photographs, no selfies, no Instagrams. We just walked around, stopped and looked at the art. What remained was that which was etched into our brains and visual memories… not onto our memory cards.
Amit, there are few things that I mourn as much as what you described. if ART is not to be viewed, scrutinized, surprised, incited or even angered……… by the pure visual and visceral ….of experience….it will indeed be reduced to a very flat two dimensional pastiche….
When you return to UBUD, there is an exhibit at the Lukisan on “LEMPAD”. I’ve seen it already, but make sure you go and ponder and enjoy.
Hope this finds you well, Phiphi
Yes, thnx Phiphi I heard of the Lempad exhibit, and I’m definitely planning to take it in during (or after) the UWRF.
There is nothing like standing in front of the original painting, particularly when you have seen it before in a book and there it is! Totally magic, these people are just not living in the moment, what a shame….
Absolutely.. they’re living IN their phones… (I nag my teen-niece about it all the time)
I went with a friend my age to the Arma recently. The idea didn’t even dawn on us to snap a photo with camera or phone. We discussed the paintings, the periods, read the brief history written about the artist and the work, viewed them up close, then at a distance. I felt satiated, like I’d eaten a five course meal with accompanying wines.
Glad you’ve been making time for ART! Who’s showing at Arma these days Sherry? Have you gone to see the Lempad show at Neka? If not, let me know if you’d like to join me – either during or after the UWRF (btw, are you going?) xo
Hear, hear! and very well said, Amit. I couldn’t agree more. It used to drive me potty in Bali, groups of tourists standing in front of temples or beautiful statues taking endless photos of each other with their phones and cameras. I doubt they even noticed the scenery – these were just token shots, quickly taken to impress friends and share on Facebook, whatever. I wonder how many of the happy snappers that you describe have actually really ‘looked’ at a painting? seen the brush marks, the layers, the mistakes, the imperfections, the cracks in the glaze? the thickness/thinness of the paint – stood close, stood back? Absorbed the details. I doubt many have 😦
Hear hear indeed! I knew that, as a fellow artiste, this story would resonate with you Lottie. It truly is disheartening that the quick snap ‘n go has replaced the leisurely, flaneur-style of luxuriating, ruminating, reveling in the aesthetic wonders of the moment.
I agree with this. At concerts you see arms go up with mobile devices trying to record it. So people are at a concert – a real event, but watching the band through a screen, to record poor quality footage when they could be having an amazing experience with the reality.
Mobile devices has their place of course but I also think it’s rather sad how they have come to dominate our life experiences.
…which is why we need to remind ourselves and those around us to… LOOK UP 😉
The digital and smart device era has really impacted our ability to be present – I’ve been guilty of this but at least (I guess) I am mindful of it!