We are still reeling, adjusting. 

A few weeks into the coronavirus lockdown in California and around much of the world, people are worried about elderly friends and relatives, unemployment figures are soaring and we stare out of the windows like the women in Edward Hopper’s paintings, dying to get dressed, to go out for a drink, to be in a crowd. A massive recession looms on the horizon.

Art? It is somehow inessential and essential at the same time. 

After the initial shock of a global pandemic wears off, it’s to art we look for comfort. (And terror, and distraction, and catharsis.) But we don’t really have art right now, or at least it’s not very easy to get to. Visual art, for the most part, is locked up, safe and humidified and air-conditioned, in museums and galleries that we have no access to at the moment. All we can do is squint at photos and videos on our phones. 

Edward Hopper: Hotel Window, 1955.

The art world was caught with pants around its ankles. PR assistants were sent into the galleries to do shaky video tours for Instagram and gallerists got more generous with their exhibition photos, putting them up on their websites in the hope of the odd crisis buy.

Honestly, why haven’t museums and galleries produced more online material before, even just for the sake of accessibility? 

For so long museums have made people travel to see their exhibitions instead of making art available online. God knows how much carbon emissions I’ve produced and how much money I’ve spent on trekking to far-flung places – Japan, Texas, places in between – to see art that I can’t experience in any other way.

If you haven’t had the means to travel, too bad. The museums’ online presence has been very bare-bones and focused on the belief that the only thing that matters is the physical experience within the museum walls.

(I suppose I know why this is: the resources are always limited; most institutions could use the ticket sales they get from in-person visits, and we all know art is better seen live.)

For someone like me, always wanting to be up to date on everything, the sheer amount of art material being pushed online right now feels anxiety-inducing. Before now, I was limited to the institutions I could reach physically – should I now be keeping up with everything, everywhere? Hyperallergic’s headline “2,500 museums you can now visit virtually” freaks me out.

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What also freaks me out more is how artists are going to get through this. It’s not about just a couple of weeks of lockdown for them.

The art market is going to slow down; every gallerist who’s been in the business longer knows that the art market is the first to go and the last to come back. And many artists support their practice by working in the service industry, which has now been driven into the ground. Art always survives – ars longa, vita brevis – but what if you are trying to make rent? 

Support artists whose work you love. Buy pieces if you can, spread the word if you can’t.

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But about museums:

Right now, art institutions are asking themselves in panicked tones what they are for. Yes, art is necessary, but how do you create and deliver the art experience in an engaging and attractive way for visitors who can’t be there in person? “Without a physical audience, it is essential to create new languages so as not to remain silent,” writes Fondazione Prada, the luxury brand’s art arm.  

And creating a new language just like that is hard. The public art museum institution has remained virtually unchanged since its inception in the late 18th century, with British Museum, the Uffizi and the Louvre opening their doors. Hang interesting things in a big space; let people in through the door to look at it, exit through the gift shop. For the last decade or two museums have tried to think about what they should do online, but they haven’t really felt much urgency around it: the in-person, physical visit has always been the most important thing.

Now it is institutions like Fondazione Prada – the ones with money, flexibility, style, and experience in producing audiovisual content – that have a running start at rethinking how we experience art at times like these. Archives will be mined, podcasts produced, photos and videos abound. Public museums with their rigid structures and funding will follow, but for the most part, slowly.

(Credit where credit is due, however: LACMA’s Instagram game was definitely on-point already before the crisis.)  

Edward Hopper: Second-story Sunlight, 1960

To experience art during the lockdown, I can see a couple of options: 

#1 Enjoy text-based work

Museums are no good for experiencing text-based art. Nobody wants to read standing up, and the backless museum benches are not very comfortable, either. This is the time to look up your favorite artist’s writings online, or maybe find a copy of a book on AbeBooks and have it mailed to you. 

There’s also this spreadsheet of artists’ books that were going to be released at the L.A. Art Book Fair – now canceled – including links on where to buy.

#2 Look at video art on your couch

While your apartment (probably) is not a black box, you can still enjoy video art without compromising the experience too much. Most pieces in museums are digital projections anyway. You can start looking on Vdrome, an online cinema that screens films by visual artists.

For Your Art newsletter has been doing a good job of putting together many online offerings.

#3 Let’s rediscover public art 

So much of it is bad! So much of it is good! Go discover the pieces that are in open air, maintaining a safe and respectful 6-foot distance to others.

You can see Chris Burden’s Urban Light even if LACMA is closed, or the streetlight installation I prefer, Sheila Klein’s Vermonica, that’s in front of the Bureau of Street Lighting on Santa Monica Boulevard. LA is full of good murals. Keith Sonnier’s Motordom is on the facade of Caltrans District 7 downtown. There’s a Richard Serra at UCLA and a Banksy downtown if that’s your thing. Simon Rodia’s Watts Towers have been under conservation work for a while, but you can peek at the spires from behind the fence.

A bonus for the creative: 

Let’s also bring back mail art! A favorite of the Fluxus crowd, it is a small, lightweight, safe and humble way of reaching each other in these weird times. Order a book of stamps online and get to it.

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But god, I do miss the museum. 

Google Arts & Culture lets you visit the Reina Sofia and the Uffizi virtually, but that’s not what I want – I want to be in the galleries in person, and get a cup of coffee in the cafe afterwards.

I miss the art, I miss the people-watching. I miss the space and the experience. Museums are a place where the rest of the world falls away; a place of contemplation and discovery.

So very unlike my apartment right now. 

P.S. The only ad-hoc ramping-up of museum online presence that I approve of and love with my whole heart is in Oklahoma, where Tim the security guard has taken over the National Cowboy & Western Heritage Museum’s social media feeds. Tim is a hero for our time.