Seeing is not the same as looking. I was reminded of this once again during a visit to Palazzo Strozzi. That experience prompted this reflection on slow art: taking time in front of a work, setting haste aside for a moment and trying to really observe what is there.
Curiosity and wonder are never automatic when we enter a museum. Sometimes we feel that we have already seen everything, or that we have to see everything. Yet staying in front of a single work for a little longer can completely change the experience.
Seeing and looking are not the same thing
A few days earlier I had visited Palazzo Strozzi with a colleague to see the exhibition Money and Beauty. We stopped in front of several works, walked through the rooms, looked, felt surprised and even laughed. But we were in a bit of a hurry, and we left convinced that we had seen everything there was to see.
A few days later I returned to the same exhibition with some colleagues. This time we were welcomed by Fondazione Palazzo Strozzi for a conversation about the works. Each of us took a small stool and we sat around a few paintings, without thinking too much about time.
The experience was completely different. Looking together, listening to what others noticed and discovering details I had missed before changed the way the works appeared to me. Each of us left feeling richer and, somehow, lighter too: for a couple of hours, our everyday thoughts had remained outside the palace.
Taking time in front of a work of art
That experience made me think about how often curiosity and wonder remain hidden away. Things can seem obvious, already seen, almost consumed by our gaze before we have truly observed them.
Slowing down can change our relationship with what is in front of us. We can notice a colour, a gesture, the light, the way a figure occupies the space. We can ask ourselves what attracts us and why. We may realise that the person beside us is seeing something entirely different.
You do not need to know the artist or the history of the work before you begin. Knowledge certainly helps, but attention comes first. And attention needs time.
Slow art: a simple practice to take with you
For me, slow art begins precisely here: choosing not to rush. In a museum we can let go of the idea that we must see every room and every work, and instead give ourselves the luxury of really looking at just a few.
Take a stool, if there is one. Or simply stop in front of a work. Sit, look and ask yourself: what do I see? What was the first thing that caught my eye? What did I overlook in the first few seconds? What feeling does the work leave with me?
They are simple questions, but they can give back to the experience of art something that haste often takes away: the possibility of being surprised.
A reflection that began at Palazzo Strozzi
This text grew out of an experience I had during the exhibition Money and Beauty at Palazzo Strozzi and from an article I wrote for Pensalibero. I wanted to keep it in my Notebook because, even after many years, the question still feels relevant: how often do we really allow ourselves the time to look at a work of art?
