Still relevant

How long do we look at a work of art in a gallery? Numerous studies have shown that it is usually under 30 seconds – with the average being under 20 seconds. Just long enough for a quick ‘what is it?’, ‘do I like it?’ and a read of the wall label.  One might imagine that a famous artwork would hold our attention longer. However, the Louvre Museum has documented that the Mona Lisa is observed on average for 15 seconds – just long enough to catch a glimpse and get a snap for social media. Maybe this is because the experience is so uncomfortable with people jostling for a photographic opportunity.

It is clear from the audience numbers that people like attending galleries. So why is the experience of looking so cursory? Is it because we are living in a world with visual overload? Is there the desire for constant stimulation? Or is it because many of the works in a gallery don’t obviously connect with our immediate experiences?

I was thinking about this while I was reading the Visual Arts column in The Weekend Australian sent to me by Rose Downer. The article by Bronwyn Watson describes a recent acquisition by the National Gallery of Victoria – A panel from a cassone featuring a painting of Trajan and the Widow by the Master of the Santa Felicita Adoration of the Magi c. 1450.

The panel is on display in the 14^th to 16^th century gallery at the NGV – a quiet, darkened reflective space with religious artworks. It is not a ‘busy space’ and offers the opportunity for contemplation. However, prior to lockdown I watched people spend the less than 30 seconds ‘allocated’ to an artwork.

Watson provides a clear, succinct and useful summary of the piece – it took me four times longer to read the article than people spend looking at the Italian panel – and it would make a good comprehensive wall label. We learn of the history of the object – a panel from a marriage chest that contained a bride’s dowry; the scarcity of surviving panels from these prestigious but utilitarian objects; part of the story depicted about the Roman Emperor, Trajan; and why these somewhat unlikely stories were featured on cassoni. There are also a couple of quotes from NGV senior curator of international art, Ted Gott, including a reference to ‘Game of Thrones’ which does provide an oblique contemporary hook.

However, there are two words in Watson’s article that I believe are the most significant for a contemporary audience: ‘civic pride’. Watson says, in passing: ‘The NGV panel is a story about civic pride where Trajan put the good of his citizens before his own pride in fighting foreign wars’. 

When we think of Roman Emperors, the ones most likely to come to mind are the autocratic or despotic – Julius, Nero, Caligula and (thanks to the movie ‘Gladiator’) Commodus. If remembered, Trajan (53 -117 CE) is largely considered as both a successful soldier-emperor, who presided over the greatest military expansion in Roman history, as well as a major philanthropist and social welfare advocate. Regarded by Nicoló Macchiavelli as one of the ‘Five Good Emperors’, along with Hadrian and Marcus Aurelius, he presided over an era of peace and prosperity during his reign.

While there are many stories about Trajan’s conquests, one of the enduring, and often depicted, stories about his humanity is his encounter with the widow which is also known as the ‘Justice of Trajan’.  Told initially in Dio Cassius’ History of Ancient Rome, and later by Dante in Purgatorio, the legend describes how Trajan was petitioned for justice by the grieving mother of her murdered son, as he heads off to the Dacian Wars. Agreeing to examine her plea and mete out justice on his return, the widow begs Trajan to deal with the situation immediately as he may not return. Trajan accedes to her request and settles the case despite his other pressing concerns. (In some versions, Trajan’s son is said to be the accidental slayer of the child and Trajan gives the widow his son to take her dead child’s place).

A further element to the story, which is often omitted, relates to how Pope Gregory, hearing of the story centuries later, was so impressed by Trajan’s justice and compassion that he sobbed and prayed for the emperor who had been condemned to spend eternity in hell as he had died a pagan. The pope’s entreaties were effective as it was revealed to him soon afterwards that Trajan’s soul had been delivered from its infernal pain.

The elements of compassion, justice and salvation were responsible for the popularity of the depiction of the scene – including on cassoni. Many artists over many centuries, ranging from Rogier van der Weyden to Eugene Delacroix, drew inspiration from the legend, and the story was part of a contemporary narrative when the virtues of sacrifice, and civic pride and duty were particularly important.

In recent times, civic pride has often become confused with self-interest, patriotism and nationalism. The focus on borders, the exclusion of individuals, the insularity of ideas, and the polarisation of people into ‘us or them’ is evident in many countries. The coronavirus pandemic has shone a spotlight on places whose leaders have warped their understanding of civic duty – who are most ‘unTrajan-like’ – and there we see that the human fallout is extreme.

Watching the American Democratic National Convention last week, I was struck by how much Joe Biden was modelling himself as a ‘contemporary’ Trajan. The qualities that were constantly emphasised were his empathy, stability, trustworthiness, honesty and inclusiveness. I wonder which Roman Emperor we will see in the Republican National Convention starting tomorrow.

The NGV cassone panel provides a reminder that who we elect to ‘care for’ us has a long history, and that compassion and justice are not givens but require active and continuous attention and nurturing. In this way, a beautiful object from almost six hundred years ago is certainly relevant – and requires more than 30 seconds of our time.