Pick on the people, not the cameras. On the photos at the National Gallery in London.

There has been a lot of discussion in recent months about policies on allowing photos to be taken inside museums. In this article written by Nina Simon and published on her blog Museum 2.0 she reflects on this and its effects at the National Gallery in London.Here is the link to the original and below is my translation!

I was wrong.

Five years ago, I wrote a post about taking photos inside museums as freely as possible. I believed that taking photos (without flash) in a museum greatly developed the ability to personalize, memorize and enjoy the experience. And I still do. Most of the time. But last week, a series of articles written from London changed my mind.

Some of them are from a blog that has a very apt name: Grumpy Art Historian (nda: The Grumpy Art Historian). Blogger Michael Savage and I rarely see each other, and that is why I love reading his posts. Last week, he wrote a series of articles about what’s new when it comes to photos inside the National Gallery in London: for the first time, the National Gallery has allowed photos to be taken, without flash.

The result seems to be total chaos. Lots of flashes. A mass of ipads. People leaning over and touching the works dangerously. A swarm of cameras everywhere. The works are like beleaguered celebrities, pursued by a horde of novice paparazzi.

Reading Michael’s posts carefully, it seems that the cameras are not the biggest culprits. They become the weapons of an already unwieldy mass of people. They are the weapons of people herded together in search of novelty. A scene like the one you see above does not just represent a chaos caused by a dense cluster of cell phones and cameras. It is a confusion caused by people.

In a museum, a mass of people pressed against each other does not allow an unobstructed view of the works, but rather turns it into a planned event. You find yourself stuck: people around you, in front of you, and pushing you from behind. Suddenly, however, a camera, which would be harmless in an uncrowded environment, becomes as annoying as someone talking during a movie screening at the cinema. You are all in the same space, and you can’t even distinguish one from another the cameras around you.

Why is this museum always so crowded? Because it is famous. Michael points out that some parts of the National Gallery are still relatively quiet and easy going; everyone crowds around the stars of the gallery, such as Van Gogh’s Sunflowers and Botticelli’s Madonnas.

The cult of celebrity is much stronger in fields where the public is not very knowledgeable. Do you remember the name of any opera singer? And of any painter? And of any museums? The biggest museums are the supercrowded ones, and mainly people all concentrate in front of the most famous works in the collection. At the Louvre there are so many rooms where there is practically never anyone, but this in the room that houses the Mona Lisa will never happen.

Museums have exacerbated this cult of celebrity by putting a lot of emphasis on blockbuster exhibitions and traveling shows; they create packages with the greatest hits that you can’t pass up. They create the experience that will not be repeated another time in a lifetime, and the crowds flock. You are told that you must not miss this opportunity and so you want to capture the moment as best you can! And the crowd scrambles in a continuous and hurried search, camera strictly in hand. Art is captured like a limping animal in a playground...but art is not something that can be tamed.

Thinking about all this, I am reminded of that beautiful scene in the most photographed barn in America, described by Don Delillo in White Noise. Two characters go out to see this barn and see that all the people are photographing it. One of them, Murray, says:

Nobody sees the barn.... Being here is a kind of spiritual surrender. We only see what other people see. The thousands of people who have been here in the past, those who will come in the future. We have accepted that we are part of a collective perception. This literally colors our vision. In a wayit is a religious experience, like any form of tourism.

The barn, like Van Gogh’s Sunflowers, is subdued. With each shot, it moves away from being a barn and closer and closer to the image of the barn. It is sacrificed to the continuous capture of its image.

I agree if that happens to the barn in a novel. I’m not sure it’s okay for art and cultural artifacts. Is there an alternative? Michael Savage might say: go back to the old days when you weren’t allowed to take pictures inside museums. Get rid of the camera. I think cameras are, yes, a distraction, but really we need to get rid of the crowds.

Next week I am leaving for a vacation: camping in the High Sierras. In order to do that, I have to have permission from the park. So I had to either plan ahead (I didn’t) or get up at five in the morning and stand in line for three hours to get a permit (as I will). Permits are needed in the nature park for the same reason that restrictions are given to museum visitors: to protect the artwork or nature and to ensure positive, safe experiences for participants.

The permits do not cover the entire park, only the most damaging parts, and the need for this permit system is not due to pure economics: anyone can get a permit for a reasonable fee. The system is based on the idea that there is maximum safety and guarantee of a positive experience in nature; therefore, rules and systems are needed to ensure that certain limits are not exceeded.

The same is true for museums. Diversity in ways of learning is eliminated if certain rules are followed. Some people like to draw, others like to take pictures, and still others like to talk or watch. Each of these actions can be stimuli for meaningful engagement and involvement, and everyone can do these things peacefully if there is enough space between them.

I think of the best museums as generous places. They welcome different people who spend different amounts of time doing different things to find themselves attuned to the work on display. If they are famous museums, they welcome people for many hours a day and give them a good experience, despite the high demand.

Crowded places become thrifty places. They deal with money out of necessity. Any deviation from our course of action becomes more visible and frustrating. Diversity produces accusation instead of understanding.

Let us find a way to introduce generosity to the world’s greatest museums. Let Van Gogh be Van Gogh. Let people see Sunflowers the way they prefer, in their own little piece of space and time. We need to build systems that allow visitors and art to flourish.

Warning: the translation into English of the original Italian article was created using automatic tools. We undertake to review all articles, but we do not guarantee the total absence of inaccuracies in the translation due to the program. You can find the original by clicking on the ITA button. If you find any mistake,please contact us.