Mark Swed of the LA Times poses some great questions in his recent Critic’s Notebook. The core of the issue is this: how much do we really need to know about an art work to connect with it? Says he:
Do you understand a piece of music better if you know its secrets, or does illumination destroy mystery just as explaining a joke defuses its humor? Might audiences at classical music concerts be more receptive, not less, if they didn’t read program notes? Is there a reason why so many people who profess to believe in the Bible haven’t actually read it?
It’s a topic that’s come up before in this weblog and will likely come again. Our answer to the question, as managers, informs how we market an exhibit or performance, how we inform it through program notes or signage, and how we measure our success in engaging an audience. Our default assumption seems to be that the more information we cram at an audience about the technical or biographical elements of a work, the better their experience will be.
Louis Pasteur’s famous quote — ”chance favors the prepared mind” — could certainly apply to ”meaningful cultural experiences” instead of ”chance.” But does ”prepared” always mean ”educated” in the traditional sense? Couldn’t a particular life experience, sense memory, or emotional state also prepare us to be moved, even if we have no idea of the mechanics of the moment that’s moving us?
Swed doesn’t offer many conclusions, except to describe two conceptually intense cultural events — one that was over-described the other under-described for his taste. And since the interest and benefit of such educational efforts varies by the individual, it might be best to offer opportunities to learn more (through many paths of knowing), without preaching to the whole congregation.
I always try to get early to the Huntington Theater in Boston, because they have such illuminating background material on the play in the program, which enhances my experience by situating the play in time, context, and biography.
In contrast, once we drove from Boston to New York City to see Dustin Hoffman in Death of a Salesman. On the way down we read the play to each other. BIG MISTAKE, because the surprise turns and dramatic moments were over-anticipated, dulling the experience.
Moral: Offer what you can afford of high-class commentary and let the subscriber decide what to access.
I think the amount of information you need is in inverse proportion to the amount of recognisable information in the artwork viz. the more abstract, the more information it helps to have.
The other issue is the type of information you make available. Situating the work / artist in context is helpful; trying to explain the meaning of the work is reductive and presumptious (unless the work really is that poor).
Eric Booth, author of ”The Everyday Work of Art” has much to say about this. How do we ”enter” a work of art? He offers a great example in his workshops. He’ll tell the participants that he’s going to perform a work of art; a sonnet by Shakespeare. But before the performance, he asks the group to suggest ways to prepare for experiencing a work of art. People suggest talking about sonnet style (14 lines, rhyme scheme, etc); Shakespeare’s life at the time he wrote the sonnet; defining some of the words in the sonnet, etc.
Instead of doing any of these however, Eric asks each person to write down their answers to four different questions (they won’t need to share their responses):
1. What do you call it when you’re feeling low – give it a title.
2. Write down two things you might do that are indicators that you’re in this state of mind (i.e. eating a carton of ice cream)?
3. Imagine you’re down in the dumps — what are two thoughts about other people that you might think of when you’re feeling this way?
4. What is something that takes you out of that low state of mind?
He then performs the poem.
http://www.shakespeare-online.com/sonnets/29.html
Immediately we are connected to the art. We identify, it has RELEVENCE for us. What we bring to the arts encounter is to make it a personally relevent connection. It’s engagement before information. Once we’re engaged in the art, we then want to read the program notes to learn more.
It’s a challenge for all arts administrators to think about this — how do we engage our audience authentically? Different art forms will need different types of engagement. It’s not always emotional. It can be participatory (like Merce Cunningham having audience members roll the dice to determine the dance), it can be by tapping competence — by what people already know.
There’s much to learn in this area. How can we help make the arts encounter be the biggest possible experience for our patrons?