Critiquing the virtual

This week our Curator of Interpretation, Nicola Waterman, asks the question: should we suspend our critical faculty when we view art online?

If history has taught us anything it’s that crisis prompts or accelerates change - demonstrating that necessity is indeed the mother of invention - and the global crisis triggered by the coronavirus pandemic is proving to be no exception. It has long been a key objective of art institutions (particularly those funded by the public purse) to reach wider audiences; bringing people into gallery spaces, yes, but also finding other ways of providing access to their collections. With galleries, museums, theatres and music venues closed (or with reduced capacity) around the world, virtual access to galleries has progressed at a pace much faster than I believe we would have seen had COVID-19 not happened.

Whether increased online access has widened audiences or merely offered existing audiences a means of continuing to enjoy art while galleries are inaccessible is a matter for another time, because my focus in this article is the question of ‘authenticity’ of experience, and more specifically, whether it is reasonable for audiences to exercise critical judgement when they are not experiencing art in person.

There’s no question that we experience art differently when we view it virtually. It is next to impossible to fully appreciate the materiality of the work; touring an exhibition via our PCs cannot replicate the ambience of a gallery; and there’s something about experiencing art in the company of other people (as maddening as that can be!) that I can’t quite put my finger on, but is in any case missing when we view it online. But what about our ability to engage with the themes of the work, or respond to the artist’s intention (stated or otherwise)?

I’ve been reflecting on this because not long ago it was suggested to us that some opinions we’d shared on this platform were unfair because the works in question had been viewed online rather than in person (despite the gallery making the online resources available, presumably with the intention of reaching the widest possible audience). It got me thinking about some of our previous exhibition commentaries, and I asked myself: had we viewed it online, would we have been less critical of the lack of women artists in Tate Britain’s 2018 exhibition, All Too Human? If we’d walked through virtual galleries, would our incredulity at room after room filled with work only by men have been absent? Viewed on our computer screens, would we have failed to ask ourselves the question, ‘Can you, and should you, separate the art from the artist?’ in response to Klimt / Schiele at the Royal Academy in 2019? And I really don’t think we would have, nor - more to the point - would it have been reasonable to expect us not to feel that outrage, ask that question, had we seen the exhibitions online.

Because if we’re serious about reaching a wider audience, and making art accessible to people who for any number of reasons may never set foot in a gallery, even when they reopen (and let’s face it, it’s hard to imagine exhibitions becoming MORE affordable while institutions are fighting to recoup their COVID losses, and threshold fear remains a genuine barrier for very many people - hell, I have to screw my courage to the sticking point to walk into some of the fancier commercial galleries, so I get it, believe me, I get it), we can’t make it conditional on people saying only nice things about what they see, and we certainly can’t invalidate people’s opinions by saying, ‘Well, you wouldn’t understand, you haven’t seen it in person’, because you might just as well slam the gallery door in their face and have done with it!

No, what we must do is throw the virtual doors wider, ask people in, invite them to look around, tell us what they think. Will we always like what they say? No. Will our work sometimes be misunderstood, or not fully appreciated? Inevitably. Will feelings sometimes be hurt? Probably. But isn’t it worth it? Isn’t it worth risking a little criticism (even a whole lot) to engage as wide an audience as possible; to prompt discussion and debate on some of the important issues artists and curators are tackling with their work, even when we can’t see it in the flesh? We believe the answer is yes, and that’s why we will keep doing what we’re doing: providing a virtual platform for women artists and space for critical thought.

Editors’ note: ‘Critiquing the virtual’ struck a chord with our SP Global correspondent, Camille Ignacio, who joins the conversation with this passionate defence of digitalised art …

Maybe people who are active in the art world or art world-adjacent are forgetting that ‘non-art-world’ people have the right to see and speak about art, too. To say that the means by which we view art (or anything not experienced in person) should dictate our right to an opinion is simply so unfair.

Should we instead crowd ourselves into a film backlot or an artist's studio from now on, instead of seeing the final products on screen or in galleries? How exclusive is art meant to be?

In my piece on Parcel Exhibitions, I noted that accessing the arts during a time such as the pandemic is capable of bringing a sense of comfort to many. But this highfalutin nonsense really takes away the sensitive, thoughtful components of art and instead brings snooty academicism and too-good-for-you elitism to what should be things that invoke engagement and emotion, that produce feelings - whether positive or negative - that are decidedly not exclusive to art world activities.

Have we forgotten that before the internet and widespread travel, many people only saw the great masterpieces in worn-out coffee table books? Isn't it that general popular opinions on the greatest works in history were formed upon such independent, discreet viewing (and even then, filtered through the art critic's eye or art historian's voice)? What makes today's art so immune to such judgement?

Digitalised experiences are indeed only one way to view art, certainly not the be-all and end-all. But I do believe it is a very practical and sensible way to do so during - say it with me - a global pandemic. And not just a pandemic involving health. We are absolutely going through a widespread reckoning based on long-standing class and racial tensions.

How does it happen that our opinions - whether positive or negative - on a certain matter are expected to change just because of a difference in the mode of delivery? The thing we react to remains the same.

I understand that the quality of art in real life is very different from what is digitalised, and I miss visiting museums and galleries and seeing works in real life, just like anyone else. After the pandemic, I would encourage anyone with the means to travel, as I do, to go see what they can. And for those who cannot afford it, I encourage them to train their critical eye, as I also do, by viewing what's available online.

Perhaps the keyword here isn't just ‘art’, but ‘access’. Specifically, intellectual access.

If art-adjacent people suggest suspending critical faculties just because ‘important’ work is being viewed online by those who are less knowledgeable and less eloquent - or perhaps less connected? - then perhaps a re-assessment should be made as to who all this art is being made for. Because if it isn't for an audience comprised of varying voices and opinions who have different means of viewing - a.k.a. everyone - then maybe there isn't even a point in sharing the work in public. That's not what sharing means.