I like to wander around art museums, and on one visit, I shared a gallery with what seemed like a private tour group.
One woman was conducting the tour for three people, when they stopped at one of these all-white paintings.
She was describing the potential meaning behind the work, and noted that sometimes the artist expresses textures, or covers some background work.
It's hard to describe, but I felt this sort of absurdist joy when I watched all four of them lean in very closely for half a minute, only to discover absolutely nothing unique about the work in its texture or color.
Maybe sometimes art isn't made for the observer, but the observer's observer.
One woman was conducting the tour for three people, when they stopped at one of these all-white paintings.
She was describing the potential meaning behind the work, and noted that sometimes the artist expresses textures, or covers some background work.
It's hard to describe, but I felt this sort of absurdist joy when I watched all four of them lean in very closely for half a minute, only to discover absolutely nothing unique about the work in its texture or color.
Maybe sometimes art isn't made for the observer, but the observer's observer.