The Last Voice in Art Appreciation

 

When it comes to art appreciation, I often wonder why my opinion doesn’t matter. I know why — but it has little to do with how much knowledge I have about the subject. And I am not alone in being inconsequential.

In truth, the perspective of the common man has rarely influenced what is considered valuable or significant in the art world — and that is unlikely to change. Art, much like power in society, is shaped by those with the resources and reach to dictate cultural narratives, regardless of what the majority feels.

When it comes to art criticism, the voice of the man on the street rarely counts if it doesn’t align with that of the elite critics. His thoughts live and die in informal corners — at tea stalls in Kolkata or Trivandrum — but seldom travel beyond.

The psychology of how we perceive art is complex — a code difficult to breach, an algorithm impossible to decipher. There are countless stories of world-class musicians performing incognito in train stations, unnoticed by passersby. Beautiful photographs appear on our screen savers all the time — if only we are ready to notice. Even great poetry, tucked inside a “Good Morning” message, rarely earns a second look. The pattern is everywhere.

Consider Picasso: he never painted for the masses. He stripped art to its essentials, challenged convention, and sought truth through childlike simplicity — much like our prehistoric ancestors might have done on cave walls. Satyajit Ray captured a similar sentiment through Dutta’s character, revealing how true artistry often lies in seeing differently, not merely in seeing more.

Not everyone can — or even wants to — see the world the way Picasso, Ray, or Calatrava saw. And perhaps that’s the quiet beauty of art itself: it doesn’t demand approval; it simply waits for the few who pause, look, and truly see.

Art continues to remind us that beauty isn’t democratic—it reveals itself not to everyone, but to those willing to slow down, observe, and feel beyond the frame.