'Pose Day': a new angle on museum selfies

Picture: National Gallery

Sunday was 'pose day'. It's part of museum week, a Twitter initiative that encourages people to pose for selfies in front of works of art, striking a pose that imitates or reflects the art. Some people think it encourages new audiences, and others think it's harmless fun. But I think it's degrading to all concerned, reducing works of art to props and reducing museums to foils for people to brand themselves. I discussed it with CBC this week, but here are some more elaborated reflections.

There is something deadening about seeing crowds lining up to take their pictures in the same pose in front of the same work of art, rarely pausing to look at the backdrop. A picture that might embody the highest religious ideals or the profoundest philosophical thought, or simply the apogee of artistic technique, is cheapened when treated as an opportunity for a cheap visual joke. The National Gallery even took pictures of mannequins in front of pictures from its collection (above). It's a daft stunt that trivialises the art. And the visitors themselves are missing out. If they slow down and look they could start to understand why some works of art are appreciated as masterpieces. 

Some works of art reward close study of technique. Others - the greatest - are transcendent and inspirational. It's thrilling to stand before a late Rembrandt or a great Poussin; they represent the highest level of individual human achievement. Unlike modern medicine and science, technology and industry, great works of art embody the creative spirit of a single person, however much they rely on learned technique or reflect their times. Going to art galleries is a chance to step outside our own humdrum concerns and be inspired, to seek to understand ideas that are sometimes alien and to engage with the mind of the creator. For some that inspiration is technical - how was this painted, and by whom? For others it might be more historical, or spiritual. Appreciation isn't automatic; rewards are proportionate to effort, and often requires guidance. But instead of guidance, museums offer cheap gimmicks like selfies and 'pose day'. 

The impetus for all this nonsense doesn't come from patrons. It's being pushed by museums themselves, which now frown on lofty sentiments about art. They seek to make it as much as possible about us, and to bring it down to the must mundane level. They are absolving themselves of the responsibility to explain, offering instead cheap commoditised fun. The curators themselves have devoted their lives to studying art; they must surely think it's worthwhile. They understand what makes a picture great. But the highlights are now flaunted as nothing more than photo opportunities, tokens of high culture that flatter the selfie-taker. 

At one level it ceases to matter whether a picture is even authentic if it's just to be used as background. But at another level I think it does matter to patrons; they do go to museums hoping to participate in a cultural experience. It matters that the backdrop has been identified as a masterpiece, even if they don't know why it has been designated great. The promoters of 'pose day' are cheating them. They are offering a pretend shortcut that requires no effort, but which equally offers no real reward. Promoting pose day shows contempt for visitors, substituting a simulacrum for the actual experience of engaging with art. The visitors leave with a cute photo, but no new knowledge or insight.

The icon of all that's worst about the modern museum is the image of photo-wielding crowds in front of the Mona Lisa. But now even this is turned around and presented as virtue. These pictures were tweeted by the Louvre itself, celebrating the idea that a picture can be like a celebrity. Rather than see this impoverished experience for what it is, we are told to enjoy it as if we are taking the role of the paparazzi. Playing at being a celebrity photographer is elevated as the highest ideal of the modern commodified museum visit. 

Will no one stand up for the selfie stick?

Picture: Hyperallergic

Museums are banning 'selfie sticks', the extendable poles that attach to your phone to take Bigger Better Selfies. It's a no-brainer, really. Long metal poles and distracted visitors focused on their selfies are a recipe for disaster in museums brimming with fragile and precious treasures. And it's an intrusion on other visitors' space, imposing a cordon around the selfie-taker. I don't blame people with selfie sticks; museums themselves are giving out the message that art exists so that it can be a backdrop for selfies. But oddly even people who have argued that people should be able to behave exactly as the please in 'their' museums have endorsed a selfie stick ban. It's an intrusion too far, though I do wonder how the decide where to draw the line (and who gets to draw the line).

What has surprised me is the way the story has taken off. Why has it captured the imagination? I think it epitomises the tensions of the museum experience today. The 'official' message is that museums must become more accessible and relevant: fewer rules, more fun, more technology. But a lot of people are actually uneasy with that proposition. Just read the comment threads, here at the Guardian for example, to see many people railing against the behaviour of selfie-taking visitors. In my experience it's not just crusty old art lovers who are objecting. People don't want their museums to be simply an extension of the street; they actually want a differentiated experience, they want to engage with art and they want to learn more.

I've led a cloistered life, and I'm uncomfortable in all kinds of social situations. I'm still not quite sure which cutlery I should be using in nice restaurants, and no matter how much I try I still can't get a tie to sit right. But for many people the ritual is part of the point of a nice restaurant - dressing up and using the right tools is part of their pleasure. How daft would it be to insist that restaurants become more accessible by letting everyone eat with their fingers (and, incidentally, taking photos of meals is frowned on in nice restaurants too). It's not just high-end restaurants; pop concerts and sports have their rituals too, and people actively seek to become part of them, learning and adopting shared forms of behaviour. There's nothing elitist about it, provided anyone in principle can partake. 

People - even young people and even people who like to share selfies on social media - appreciate differentiated experiences. There are places to dress up, and places to dress down, venues for raucous behaviour and others demanding reverence. We all instinctively get this. We don't need to be told to behave differently at a wedding or a funeral, a football match or a night at the opera. But museums struggle with the concept. They pay half-hearted lip service to the idea that some people go to look at art and might be distracted by selfie-taking mobs, suggesting they might spare an hour a week when the museum would prohibit selfies. But the mainly emphasise their openness, their willingness to let people behave exactly as they please. Their obsession with relevance and access is actually ruining the experience for everyone, because if museums are nothing special there's no good reason for people to go in the first place.

Banning selfie sticks is a good start, but it's only a start. Bring back the photo ban, National Gallery!