How to Look at Art: Your Guide to Art Appreciation

We all know how visiting a museum or art gallery can sometimes be an overwhelming – and sometimes intimidating – experience. Either you step into a spacious, eerily quiet ‘white cube’, where every sound echoes and every step feels visible, leaving you feeling as seen as the works themselves. Or, you’re surrounded by a packed crowd, hurrying through the exhibit as if racing against time. Your experience can often be complicated by dense, academic wall texts and brochures you have yet to decipher and unpack. Though meant to contextualize the artwork, it can also leave visitors either self-conscious as they read in the spotlight or struggling to find focus amid the crowd’s noise.

Exhibition texts and brochures are meant to help us understand the works in context—often as intended by artists, historians, and curators — but they can also work counterproductively: visitors don’t end up ‘sitting’ with the work the same way, as pre-decided definitions overshadow their own interpretation of the work. In fact, studies have found that visitors to art galleries spend an average of eight seconds looking at each work on display. Is it really the point if you end up spending a good few minutes unpacking the texts, only to skim through the works themselves? Are artworks intended to be ‘glanced’ at? 

The truth is, there is no single, ‘correct’ way to experience art. If we were to seek it, we would first need to tackle the impossible task of defining art itself. But fear not! I have crafted a short guide to help you make the most of your next visit, inspired by my own visit to the Rijksmuseum Amsterdam, followed by Foam Photography Museum to experience slowly looking at completely different types of work: classical works and photography. 

• Slow Looking

Word on the street is that every artwork has the potential to reveal more with a longer look. It’s not about the artist’s intentions, the curatorial narrative, or the museum’s agenda. It’s about you and the artwork, and the connection that can grow when you give yourself the time to form your own impressions.  

• Be selective – it’s okay.

Of course, because of time restraints, ‘slow looking’ means being selective with what works you choose to sit with. It means glancing and passing by other works, and that’s okay. The important thing is that you select a work that you are drawn to. One that intrigues, attracts or even frustrates you. 

Think of the works displayed as a buffet. You skim all the meals, you read the menu. You pick the dish(es) you think you’ll like, but only get to really know them when you taste them. It’s quite similar — the only difference is, tasting the work here implies that you sit down and take your time to get acquainted with it. (Please don’t actually attempt to taste an artwork).

• Large, figurative paintings are a great place to start. 

With so many details and layers, these busy works invite you to take time to uncover the different stories within them. In just a few seconds, you might spot a flower, a bird… But by lingering a little longer, you start to see so much more.

So, here’s my first hand account of a wonderful 18th century figurative painting at the Rijksmuseum. My eyes were immediately drawn to her face. She appeared healthy and well cared for, and the longer I looked, the more I noticed a very subtle smirk—a smirk of confidence, stability and security. I then noticed her velvet red gown. Adorned with intricate lace and fine gold jewelry, it spoke to her wealth and status. 

Shifting my gaze onto her surroundings, I took in the calm atmosphere of the cloudy, sunset sky behind her. Offset by lush greens that crept out of the forest behind her–they seemingly hinted at a prosperous, well-kept estate. Draped over the chair she sat on was a hat with a delicate, soft green scarf as if marking the end of a pleasant day spent outdoors. But she wasn’t just lounging for leisure; the open book in her lap subtly hinted at her nobility and intellect.

The dog, gazing up at her with loyalty, seemed to symbolize devotion, and I wondered about the artist’s intention here. Positioned at the edge of the scene, at the painting’s periphery, it created a subtle distance between the lady, her world, and the viewer—a reminder of her untouchable status. Yet, she didn’t look stern or stiff; with one elbow resting on the corner of a pillar, her posture was relaxed and welcoming. 

As I noticed her casual stance, my attention was drawn back to the open book, as if it pointed to the way we’ve intruded on her quiet moment. This painting was layered with meaning, inviting me to read between the lines and appreciate the intention behind each choice. Unlike many works of this era, which often capture their subjects as distant or untouchable, the details here seemed designed to create a fleeting connection—a moment between the viewer and the woman herself, as if I’d just passed her by. And just like that, I was introduced to a lady I’ve never met.

But… have you ever spent ten uninterrupted minutes with an abstract painting or a photograph? In my case, I went with something in between…

Stepping into the first gallery space at Foam, I was greeted by this striking photographic work by Vivianne Sassen, placed right at the end of the steps. I felt immediately drawn to its intense, reflective red, almost radiating through the glass. I stared. Over time, what initially reminded me of the desert’s scorching heat began to evoke a feeling of calmness, a sense of trust. I stared. Somehow, this photographic work felt reminiscent of a Rothko. Sitting with my thoughts, I noticed how the piece encouraged my mind to quiet down, to stop racing, as if I were physically present in the vastness of the desert.

The longer I stood there, the more it felt like the work and I were “befriending” each other. As I opened myself to its presence, it seemed to reveal layers of depth and tranquility that hadn’t been visible at first glance.

How do you feel? Does it trigger any memories?

The longer I sat with it, the more my mind began connecting the work to my own experiences. It reminded me of home. The deserts that link city to city in Egypt, always greeting travelers with their vast, open space, as if in quiet acceptance. Yet despite that acceptance, there’s a humbling reminder in their vastness, of how small we truly are… And as I sat longer and longer, the thoughts continued to drift and sway, and as much as the work revealed itself to me – it also revealed me to myself. It was quite meditative.

I moved toward another piece in the same series: a green transparent mirror positioned slightly diagonally at the center of the image, with colors shifting depending on what lay behind it. I found myself drawn to its changing hues—blue, green, orange, yellow, and sandy tones—that, despite their contrasts, seemed to blend effortlessly together. As I looked more closely, small details began to emerge: tiny shrubs, trees, and rocks hidden within the landscape.

What initially appeared to be the smooth, uninterrupted surface of the desert, its dunes almost like layers of frosting (yes – that’s how it resonates with me), actually revealed its rough edges, its textures. I appreciated that. It felt real. 

Though I’d love to keep going on and on, and talk to you about more and more about other works I’ve seen, I’ll leave you here with this exercise document. It’s a template for you to use on your next museum visit, a gift to you by us, so you can journal your thoughts too. Remember! There are no rules. Art is subjective and is as unique as your thoughts are. In fact, they say an artwork is completed in our minds.

Supported by Abdul Hameed Shoman Foundation

كيف ننظر إلى العمل الفنّي؟

قلم: نادين حلمي
ترجمة: ليان الجقة

نعلم جميعاً كيف يمكن لزيارة متحف أو معرض فنّي أن تكون تجربة مربكة أحياناً، بل وقد تنطوي على شيء من الرهبة. فهي إمّا عبارة عن الدخول إلى قاعة بيضاء فسيحة يغلّفها صمت مريب، حيث يتردّد صدى كل صوت وتشعر مع كلّ خطوة وكأنّك محطّ أنظار الجميع، تماماً مثل الأعمال الفنية المعروضة؛ وإمّا أن تجد نفسك وسط حشود مكتظّة تندفع في أرجاء المعرض كما لو كانت في سباق مع الزمن. وغالباً ما تزداد هذه التجربة تعقيداً بسبب نصوص الشروحات الفنية المثّبتة على الجدران وكتيبّات المعرض والتي تزيدك إرباكاً في محاولة فكّ رموزها وفهمها. فعلى الرغم من أنّ الغاية من وجودها هو وضع العمل الفنّي في سياقه، قد تؤدّي هذه النصوص إلى شعورك بالحرج وأنت تقرأ تحت أنظار الجميع، أو تستدعي منك بذل جهد إضافيّ للتركيز وسط كلّ ذلك الضجيج

لا شكّ أنّ الهدف من هذه النصوص الجدارية والكتيّبات الخاصة بالمعرض هو مساعدتنا على فهم الأعمال الفنية ضمن سياقها وكما أرادها الفنانون أو المؤرخون أو القيّمون على المعرض. ولكنّها قد تؤثّر أحياناً بشكل عكسيّ، حيث تُهيمن التفسيرات المسبقة على التجربة الشخصية للزائر، مما يحدّ من تواصله مع العمل الفنّي بطريقة مباشرة. في الواقع، أظهرت الدراسات أنّ زوّار المعارض الفنية يقضون في المتوسط ثماني ثوانٍ فقط في النظر إلى كل عمل فنّي معروض. فهل المطلوب منك حقاً هو قضاء الوقت في فكّ طلاسم تلك النصوص مقابل مجرّد ثوانٍ في تأمّل العمل الفنّي نفسه؟ هل تكمن الغاية من الأعمال الفنية في مجرد إلقاء نظرة خاطفة عليها؟

الحقيقة هي أنّه لا توجد طريقة واحدة و”صحيحة” للنظر إلى الفنّ. وإذا ما حاولنا تحديد هذه الطريقة، سنجد أنفسنا في مواجهة المهمة المستحيلة المتمثلة في تعريف الفنّ نفسه. لكن لا تقلق! لقد أعددنا لك دليلاً مختصراً يساعدك على تحقيق أقصى استفادة من زيارتك القادمة إلى معرض فن 

النظر البطيء

يُقال إنّ كلّ عمل فنّي يحمل في طيّاته الكثير ممّا يمكنك اكتشافه إذا أمعنت النظر فيه لوقت أطول. هذه العملية لا تتعلّق بنوايا الفنان أو بالسردية التي يقدّمها القيّمون على المعرض أو برؤية المتحف، بل تتعلّق بتفاعلك الشخصي مع العمل الفنّي، وبالرابط الذي قد ينشأ عندما تمنح نفسك الوقت الكافي لتكوين رؤيتك وانطباعاتك الخاصة

كن انتقائياً – لا بأس بذلك

نظراً للقيود الزمنية على زيارتك، من الطبيعي أن يتطلّب “النظر البطيء” منك أن تكون انتقائياً في اختيار الأعمال الفنية التي تقرّر التفاعل معها. وهذا يعني أن تلقي نظرة عابرة على الأعمال الأخرى، وهو أمر مقبول تماماً. المهمّ هو أن تختار العمل الذي يجذبك، أو يثير فضولك، أو حتى يولّد لديك شعوراً بالانزعاج

تعامل مع الأعمال المعروضة وكأنّها بوفيه مفتوح، حيث يمكنك أن تطّلع سريعاً على جميع الأطباق، وتلقي نظرة على قائمة الطعام، ثم تختار الطبق أو الأطباق التي تظنّ أنّها قد تعجبك ولكنّك لن تعرف ذلك فعلياً إلا عندما تتذوّقها. الأمر مشابه هنا – مع فارق وحيد هو أنّ “تذوّق” العمل يعني أن تجلس وتأخذ وقتك لتتعرّف عليه عن قرب (رجاءً، لا تحاول تذوّق العمل الفني حرفياً!)

ابدأ باللوحات الكبيرة التصويرية

اللوحات الكبيرة ذات التفاصيل الكثيرة هي مكان رائع للبدء، فقد تشجّعك هذه الأعمال الغنية بالطبقات والتفاصيل على قضاء الوقت في اكتشاف القصص المختلفة الكامنة فيها. قد تلاحظ زهرة أو طائراً في غضون ثوانٍ قليلة… ولكن مع مزيد من التأمّل، ستبدأ في رؤية المزيد ممّا لم يكن ظاهراً للوهلة الأولى

بدعم من مؤسسة عبدالحميد شومان