Article

In Plain Sight: You Already Belong in This Museum

By
  • Tamar Avishai
3 min read

As far back as I can remember, I’ve had a complicated relationship with museums. 

My artist mom would take me to different exhibitions as a kid, and I’d hear my rubber-soled velcro shoes squeaking on the marble floor and echoing off the high ceilings. I’d feel the urge to shush them the way it felt like the space was shushing me.

I knew I needed to act with the appropriate reverence. And it made museums thrilling, but also a little scary. What if I didn’t behave the right way? What if I didn’t “get” the art? Would I be invited back?

These are not fears that are limited to little kids. I am now an art historian, the exact kind of person who is supposed to feel at home in an art museum. But I’m still sometimes a little intimidated. Sometimes I’m excited, and other times (can I admit this?) I’m bored. Sometimes I look for benches instead of Botticellis.

That said, I try to walk into art museums with a sense of open, not shut. This is how I approached my Visiting Storyteller residency at the National Gallery in June of 2024, where I spent a week in the museum talking to and recording as many people as I could: curators, other staff, visitors. We talked about what brought them to the museum, and what keeps them there. We talked about what makes the museum experience transcendent, and what can get in the way of that: bluntly, what makes them feel like they never learned the secret knock to access this world.

A graphic shows the words in plain sight in yellow text in the middle of a simplified shape of an eye of the same color. There is an orange background and on the bottom half the logos of the National Gallery of Art and The Lonely Palette with a plus sign between them.

This first episode explores the stories of the people who work behind the scenes at the museum: the role they play in welcoming visitors, the stories they tell visitors to prime them for encountering the art in person, and the ways museum design can help you look.

There is no one way to experience a museum, either for the first time or the hundredth. It’s yours to own and shape. And as you’ll hear in this podcast, the tools to experience your museum are waiting for you. This space is your space. Look as long as you want.

Episode highlights

We have this amazing Calder mobile, which is the largest Calder mobile in the world, which slowly kind of rotates throughout the day. There are different wind vents that help it to continually move… I think one of the most amazing parts of the building is the light and the way that the light changes and creates shadows over the course of the day. You know, I've worked here for eight years and I don't ever really tire of that.

– Isabella Bulkeley, Senior Digital Content Writer and Producer

A woman stands with her back to us facing John Singleton Copley's large painting Watson & the Shark in a dramatically lit roo

Social media is a great connector to people who are creative, who might not know about art history, who are interested in learning about it. We use art as a tool to connect people to humanity and remind us that art is just a conduit to the human experience.

– Sydni Myers, Social Media Manager

Blades of forest, pine, and sage green intermixed with slivers of cobalt and sky blue, crimson red, and rose pink create a band of abstracted tree-like forms across this horizontal painting. The blues, red, and pink are concentrated on a structure, presumably a tree, at the front center. To our left of center, geometric shapes like circles, triangles, and rectangles create the impression of a beaked bird, with each shape being fractured into bands of emerald green, royal blue, brick red, and butter yellow. Closer examination finds other birds nearly obscured within the dark, accordion-like patterns of the leaves, including a flock of red-eyed, black, razor-like birds to our left and another creature with a bird-like head and humanoid body to our right. Across the top third of the composition, the sky is pale blue to our left and brightens to shell pink and then light yellow around a disk-like form, to our right. A couple geometric, stylized shapes read as clouds near the upper left corner. Next to a tiny, white line drawing of two abstracted, animal-like forms in the lower right corner, the artist signed his name, “max ernst,” in white paint and the date, “1939” in red.
Max Ernst, A Moment of Calm, 1939, oil on canvas, Gift of Dorothea Tanning Ernst, 1982.34.1

Somebody had walked around the galleries and asked me about what my favorite piece was. And I said, ‘Oh, have you seen this one?’ And he said, ‘I walked past. I didn't like it so much.’ I replied, ‘I wonder why?’ And he said, ‘Oh, maybe I'll go back and look at it.’ He went back upstairs and [returned] 15 minutes later and said that he loved the piece because he had gone back up to look at it more… Sometimes people just need time to connect with a piece, even if they don't understand it.

Josh Horvath, Visitor Experience Representative

A geranium with vibrant pink blossoms sits in a terracotta pot on a ledge in front of two shelves in this stylized, vertical still life painting. The orange terracotta pot has patches of vivid spring green around its base. The rounded leaves of the plant and petals of the blossom are outlined in black and filled in with areas of parakeet and moss green for the leaves and pink for the petals. The pot sits on a bright, lavender-purple ledge, and two more shelves are stacked behind it. A single terracotta pot sits to our left behind the plant on the lower shelf, and four pots are lined up on the shelf above, cut off by the top edge of the canvas. Brushstrokes are visible throughout. A turquoise strip runs along the bottom edge of the composition, and the artist signed the lower right corner, “Henri Matisse.”
Henri Matisse, Pot of Geraniums, 1912, oil on linen, Chester Dale Collection, 1963.10.41

It's interesting to start at one level of what do you see or what comes to mind, and then to go beyond that level. That's really where you want to go. So often in a painting, you just ask folks, what do you see here? There are different levels of looking. And it's exciting to take people to the different levels.

Estelle Quain, Docent

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