In comparison to the average viewer who looks at an artwork for 27 seconds before moving on, the 15 years that Nicole Mollett spent looking at Richard Dadd’s The Fairy Feller’s Master-Stroke is no mean feat. What led Mollett to keep returning to this painting was not an astute grasp or sharp insight, but a struggle and difficulty to understand its meaning. Even after the many years she has spent attempting to decipher Dadd’s painting, she still describes it as “a kind of riddle”.
“To be everywhere is to be nowhere”, wrote Seneca in one of his letters. He seems to refer to the fruitless nature of trying to absorb and assimilate information on a wide and grand scale, arguing this only provides us with superficial understanding. Instead, what is more meaningful according to Seneca is learning and studying intensively rather than extensively. This is the central idea underpinning Mollett’s exercise, which pertains to the method of observation called “slow looking”.
Often, I become overwhelmed by a sense of panic in art galleries. Despite wanting to examine an artwork and understand it in depth, I feel that the time I spend looking at one work is time not spent looking at others, and often there are works which I feel drawn to, but I feel as though I lack the necessary knowledge to fully understand them. My love of art feels like somewhat of a curse in these moments.
Yet “slow looking” as a practise of observation teaches viewers that it’s much more worthwhile taking time and looking closely. We can celebrate, rather than feel intimidated by, the unknown. Indeed, the practise of “slow looking” is restorative and therapeutic, one that offers viewers solace. With the constant stimulation in the fast-paced modern world, it can be rare that we allow ourselves to stop and feel.
We are distracting ourselves from ourselves, says Aidan Hart, an iconographer and former monk who spent seven years living as a hermit studying icons. To Hart, the process is emotional and spiritual, and its first step is to love and accept ourselves –our response to artworks can make us feel uneasy, and sometimes can even be painful. However, he urges us to not avoid these feelings as it is from experiencing them that we can find meaning and a place of comfort within ourselves. Rebecca Chamberlain, an art psychologist too reveals the practise as beneficial for viewers’ mental health and wellbeing. Through “slow looking”, viewers become more present and calmer, helping “to keep out negative and sometimes intrusive thoughts”.
“Slow looking” is closely connected with the development of abstraction in art. The White Cube aesthetic in the early 20th Century promoted art exhibits, particularly those displaying abstract pieces, in square or rectangular rooms painted white with only one source of light. This directly encouraged viewers to practise looking slowly, as they could connect more personally with the works they encounter without any distractions around them. Kandinsky, one of the key pioneers of abstract art, too promoted “slow looking”, as he believed that an artwork only reveals its meaning when it is slowly absorbed by the viewer. In closely examining its various elements, the viewer will reach a moment when the work becomes unified and whole. “Slow looking” reminds us, as Kandinsky voices, that deeper meaning lies in the details. And perhaps that’s the practise’s true power – it helps us truly see.
Next time you’re in an art gallery, try spending a little longer observing a work you might otherwise have overlooked. Perhaps you may find that this deliberate act enriches your experience and brings new layers of insight. Even if a work seems indecipherable, you might find that its meaning is right in front of you, simply waiting to be seen.
“People art gallery” is marked with CC0 1.0.