Glum for what reason

I recently had the distinct pleasure of attending two incredible exhibitions at the Queensland Art Gallery. My son and his family and Leah and I strolled around the Picasso and the Russell Drysdale one gorgeous Sunday morning and, after a delicious lunch at Southbank, came back and strolled well into the late afternoon. The works were magnificent, confronting, brazen, emotive, inexplicable, splendid , brilliant!!!! So why was it that everywhere I looked my fellow “strollers” looked so glum? I was quite distressed because many of them looked as though they were waiting outside the school dentist.... and we all remember how that felt! There was a kind of religious silence that hung over the galleries; nobody was talking, discussing the works they were viewing, smiling and certainly no-one was laughing. I wonder why. Was it the stern, accusatory looks that leaked from the faces of the security staff? You know…. The ones that look you up and down as though you are carrying a weapon; or the others who stare at you as though they wish you should clear off home. Maybe. If we venture down to the children’s interactive art section there is life everywhere you look, chatting, pointing, giggling, concentrating, staring and engaging with the art and with their environment.

At what age do we change? Is art supposed to be viewed with sullen morbidity by adults? is that how we demonstrate a respect for the artist? Is it quiet like a library because we are expected to concentrate and learn from artist’s work rather than be gripped emotionally by it? Are we supposed to be dour so people think we are knowledgeable creatures who understand everything we see at an exhibition? Or is it that beauty must no longer set us alight.. that we should be guarded and intense and consider only our own thoughts on matters concerning art and the mind and not art and the heart? I really don’t know. It is worth taking a few minutes to engage with children while they engage with art. Their smiles and busy response should be our inspiration.
Janine Karetai