The experience of viewing art in your home takes many paths, but
we have now rotated dozens of artworks through Member homes and have seen
distinct patterns emerge in how that art is welcomed and appreciated. The
elements of time, community, and physical context play a huge role in your
experience, creating something more than your initial interpretation of the art
itself.
Many of our friends crave exposure to multiple ideas and want
variety in social and mental life. They consume “experiences” as often as
“goods.” They would like to spend more time with art than the 13 second museum
average (From prior article), but in most cases far less than perpetual
ownership.
So how much time would people like to spend with most fine art?
About two months. We asked our initial Members numerous times and they
consistently replied with two months. The number isn’t magic, and it could change,
but this was clear. In addition, the time rating was independent of someone’s
overall enjoyment of the art. A person who was ecstatic about the art (Imagine
a perfect “10”) did not want to keep the art substantially longer than a person
who expressed lukewarm feelings (Imagine a “6”). Again, given the choice, most
of our friends prefer variety; this is core to the experience economy and The
Art Circuit.
But even within a bound time range changes occur as you linger
with art. While your overall enjoyment might remain consistent, it likely grows
or shrinks over time to some degree. We first uncovered this experience when
Members began to say things such as “I like this piece a lot more now than I
did initially,” or, conversely, and thankfully less often, “I loved this piece
initially but became tired of it after awhile.”
Let’s examine a few scenarios under which art perception changes
over time. First, “I like this piece a lot more now than I did initially.”
Good. This is why we challenge ourselves with new books, food, art - creative
pursuits that expose us to new experiences. With art we learn and grow in our
appreciation of different styles and subject matters. Time helps us acclimate
to a bold color pattern or sharp figurative lines that are unfamiliar. If a
person has not owned much art it could be an acquired taste, as many valued
tastes are, from broccoli to fine spirits.
Bringing new artwork to a Member’s home is the most essential
joy we provide - and it is personally rewarding to us. The feelings of
excitement and surprise are irreplaceable and only occur at that moment, when
the prior artwork is removed, and they glimpse the new art settle into its
location. The room may shift from an ethereal, impressionist interior to a
bold, modernist set of geometric shapes. Or it could move from seaside flats
painted in extremely thick oil to mixed media in black and white. This is a
fantastic moment of adventure and variety. Most of us probably associate this
transition moment with other experiences: an unexpected music track, the first
sight of an unknown city, even images in our social media feeds. They all
provide the rush of new exposure, and these sometimes steep and brew into new
meaning. This is especially true of art.
This is because the art does not stand alone. It exists in the
context of a home, and the people and activities who inhabit it. It’s an
ecosystem. We ask for scores on many attributes, from artwork color to size and
style. This is not the place to examine those data but suffice it to say,
people initially judge art quite heavily based on the color and how it
matches their interior decorations. People do NOT ever stop considering color
as a primary factor, and we’ll share more scores in a few months, but they DO
stop dwelling on the color and start reflecting on the content and style more
heavily. They need time to view the artwork in the morning, evening, and night.
Time to discuss with roommates, spouses, or friends (Living situations are
quite varied in San Francisco). There is a time and moment when the art goes
from an enjoyable surprise into being a part of the home and a comforting
element- or an energizing element. This is what happens when people tell
us they “Enjoy the art more than they had initially.”
But sometimes, luckily much less often, the art is less
interesting over time than initially. You might love an artwork initially but
explore the feelings and thoughts it generates in each context over the course
of a couple weeks. And you might discover that it settles and recedes into the
background too quickly. Maybe it doesn't grab the space and become part of the
room. Or you might find that the shapes, colors, and textures are obvious, and
visual consumption becomes repetitive like a song that won’t go away because the
radio plays it too much. This does happen under certain circumstances, and from
what we’ve seen you likely won’t know this from the first glance, or from
immediately available attributes of the art, but it’s something that we are
tracking with our surveys, to try and understand patterns about which art loses
it luster.
Other exciting things happen when viewing art at home. It allows
you to embrace curiosity. Without museum or gallery boundaries you can even -
gasp - touch the artwork. Don’t tell anyone, but you can. And the art will
certainly project different attitudes in segments through the day. As light is
cast across the artwork it glows with different hues, as it does with natural
vs. artificial light. We try to place artwork in locations that attract natural
light directly instead of from the sides, but not every space enables
this. Museum lighting is incredible; it’s directed perfectly to the shade and
tone of an artwork. But that isn’t the reality of how durable artworks must
gleam inside your home, and we often forget the challenges of hanging artwork
in even the most primary locations. The reality is the art will look completely
different at noon than at dinner. It will change entirely with open or closed
blinds. It is not a perfect and consistent viewing environment with adjustable
light. But this is something to relish rather than lament because you can truly
see and uncover what oil painting, acrylic or photography does under the
different circumstances and how the artwork reflects and day’s mood. Since the
art becomes part of your context it cannot be perfectly sheltered from changing
surroundings, as it is a catalyst itself for some changes.
As the surroundings change, this does not simply indicate
daylight, it indicates people as well. Many people enjoy truly communal
interaction around art in their home. On numerous occasions when we have asked
Members how long they’d like to keep an artwork, their immediate response is
“Long enough to have a dinner party.” That’s a perfect response. It reflects
the pride of having something beautiful and unique to discuss with friends, or
even the private desire to impress visitors with something new. Something that
struck us when we began entering people’s homes to hang art was how apologetic
most people are about their home. “It’s so messy,” or “Sorry we haven’t
organized things properly.” The vast majority of us reading at this moment are
somewhat unsure about the shoes, socks, books and dishes strewn across the
house. But bringing a new and compelling artwork to a person’s home injects a
new set of beauty. Sometimes it even (slightly) nudges people to tidy their
surroundings and share the vibrancy over dinner, wine, beer, coffee - your item
of choice. The discussion that ensues is often about ideas or places inspired
by the art - it’s a catalyst to start that conversation and wonder to broader
museum shows, novels or other creative pursuits. The feedback and experience
created among friends becomes the new context and history of that art for each person,
the collective story you tell around it. This dramatically changes your initial
impression from when the piece was first hung on your wall.
After the friends depart, after you’ve seen the art across times of day, and whether the work is more or less compelling over time, it always leaves for a new home. Likely you feel a moment of nostalgia when the experience draws to a close, but it is quickly followed by the joy and energy burst of hanging new artwork in the momentarily vacant space.
