Great Uncle Fred? I have just come back from a trip to the National Gallery with my friend`s auntie who knows lots about art. She showed us this picture of Madam Somebody by a French man and I said, "What`s so good about it?" And she said, "If you have to ask that question, then there`s no point my answering it." Does that mean that I am incapable of learning what is the difference between a good picture and a bad picture? What is the difference? (Harriet, Spring 2008)

No, you are not incapable, anyone can learn to appreciate art (almost anyone) and I think your friend`s auntie must have been enjoying the picture so much that she could hardly speak. Still, it is a hard question to answer unless it is true that a good picture is one that makes you want to paint your own picture... Although there are some pictures that I love passionately, I have never felt very confident talking about them or about pictures in general and, even at my age, I speak with caution, even nervousness. My favourite painters are Piero della Francesca, Rembrandt, El Greco, Goya and Chagall but my preference for them over all the others is not something I would be able to explain. They speak to me most clearly, I suppose. It has been said that there are no bad reasons to like a picture but there are infinite numbers of bad reasons to dislike a picture... You must try to be unlike me and listen to your own response. Despite my great age, I still have in my mind what I think other people might think, what I ought to be thinking, and that gets in the way of a proper appreciation. But the skill of the artist, what s/he is trying to achieve, how well the challenge has been risen to and how the picture appeals to the heart, these can be worked out, perhaps, with a bit of practice. In a good picture, everything contributes, everything is essential, nothing could be removed or changed without spoiling the whole. I think. As you can tell, this is a subject with which I do not feel entirely at ease but I think I have said nothing untrue. The main thing, it seems to me, is to be true to your own response and to make that response as informed but spontaneous and joyful as possible.

Print