The Cantor Arts Center show that runs through December is not being called an exhibition. Rather, it’s an experimental installation titled, curiously enough, Question. Visitors are encouraged to ask about art and find new perspectives—perhaps by sitting on a floor cushion to examine an African Kongo figure. They can change the color of one wall, and rearrange magnetic letters on another wall to articulate their thoughts. Question is designed to be provocative, says curator for education Patience Young. Recently she mused on—but intentionally didn’t quite answer—some of the queries that Question asks.
Stanford: This [Miró painting] looks like something a child could do. Why is it in an art museum?
We start by looking at the intent. Certainly there is a freedom in children’s work, and some accomplished artists cultivate that, or try to return to that, but with a mature intent in their imagery. So consciousness of what you’re doing and the meaning behind it are some of the ways you can think about how Joan Miró’s work is distinguished.
How come worn, broken or imperfect objects are in the museum collection?
People come through and look at the Roman torso that doesn’t have a head, or arms or legs, and ask, “Why is this here?” We explain that some things are [displayed] because of their very age. We have a Koryo dynasty bowl from Korea that was broken in the firing process but lovingly repaired in the 10th or 11th century because it was valued.
Can we understand art from cultures or periods other than our own?
A lot of visitors to the museum would assume that a 17th-century Italian painting is from a tradition and a culture they can understand. But we don’t understand an Allegorical Landscape, 1631, which has this gargantuan pomegranate and men standing around looking at it. It’s a painting that is puzzling.
Why should I look at something that is disturbing?
Do you like looking at Rodin’s The Gates of Hell? Is it disturbing? Yes. Is it visually interesting? Yes.
How is value determined?
Curators, when they acquire a work, write up a full justification for why it should be in our collection. So we’ve hung tags on some paintings that say “small edition,” “amusing and vivacious,” “won gold medal at International Print Exhibition, Los Angeles, 1922.”
Where is the meaning in a work of art?
We’ve chosen some things that don’t have an obvious meaning. There’s a work of calligraphy that’s interesting because one character can be read two different ways. It totally changes the composite meaning of the painting to read the character as “heaven,” instead of “to die young.”
Who decides what is art and who is an artist?
You decide. Visitors may type in their definition of art and it’s displayed on the wall with all the other definitions—[quotes] by Winston Churchill, John Cheever, Pablo Picasso, Federico Fellini, Emile Zola. I love Beverly Sills, who said, “Art is the signature of civilization.”
