Teens/adults - Lesson 2: Group Interpretation

What would it be like to have a group of your friends look at an art work together and talk about it? This kind of activity has a lot of benefits. Invariably, people in the group will spot things that you’ve missed, and they will interpret the work in ways you haven’t considered. And it’s fun.

This interpretive exercise is much like a book group. The individuals in a book group are not literary critics typically, but they are curious, observant, and willing to talk through their experience about a book. That same kind of discussion can be enjoyed looking at art works together.

Where I live, there is a book group of men, and we meet monthly. The group’s called Burgers and Books, and every time we meet, we get food from the local Shake Shack and after we eat, we talk through our reactions to the selected book of the month. It’s a group of about 20 guys, but given busy schedules, people attend when they can. One of our books selected last year was Joseph Paul Vorst, a monograph of the Latter-day Saint artist who was born in Germany, immigrated to the United States during the Great Depression, and lived in St. Louis until his early death in 1947.

After learning about the artist’s life and discovery of the artist—his story was new to nearly all of them—and discussing the book, one of the club members said, “Let’s just pick a painting in the book and all talk about it.” To the best of my ability, and with reconstruction help of the participants, here’s my recollection of the conversation which I think is instructive for any group of people who want to try art criticism as a group.

Joseph Paul Vorst (American, born Germany 1897-1947)

Drought (1938)

oil on masonite, 39.5 x 35

Used with permission of the Vorst estate

Cast of characters:

Eli, software developer (and manages Burgers and Books group)

Noah, business manager

Cameron, a graphic designer

Derek, investment banker

Blake, business manager

Michael, law student

Ryan, Wall Street analyst

JR, Software security officer

Glen, writer—and author of the book on Vorst

Setting: A common room in a high-rise apartment building, with men gathered in a circle sitting on unusually comfortable chairs.

Noah: Let’s choose a painting and all just talk about it.

Cameron: How about “Drought,” page 136?

Glen: I’ll give you a quick set up. Vorst lived in St. Louis during the Great Depression. The Dust Bowl happened throughout the 1930s, just to the west of him. “Drought” was painted in 1937. So what do you see? There’s a man.... What’s he doing? What else is in it?

Blake: He’s praying.

JR: Look at those veins on his arms.

Ryan: And huge hands. And feet, too.

Blake: He doesn’t have shoes.

Derek: There’s poverty. His belt is a strand of rope.

Eli: All the crops are dying.

Cameron: He’s praying for rain.

Noah: Those animals look like they’re on their last legs.

Glen: Look at the cow’s ribs. It’s about ready to keel over.

Eli: Is that cat chasing something?

Michael: Where? Oh, I see it.

Derek: The woman is covering her face.

Ryan: I like that you can’t make out the face of the child. 

Blake: I’m checking out that empty bucket on the right side. There’s no water. 

Noah: And it doesn’t look like there’s going to be anything from that well.

Eli: Is that a tear streaming down his face?

JR: Wow. Cool.

Cameron: Everything’s a symbol. The eave of the roof is collapsing. 

Glen: Vorst painted this same roof a few times. So the images in this painting aren’t a depiction of a specific event, I don’t think. He’s constructing the image rather than illustrating something he’s observing.

Noah: Those curving shapes appear everywhere—in the corn, the leafless trees…

Eli: …The draping of his pants—everything’s withering.

Glen: Vorst did this thing where he’d scratch into the surface of the paint with a sharp tool like a dentist’s pick. Look at his hair. You can see all of that texture.

Blake: I see it now.

Michael: I’m not an art expert or anything, but there’s a lot of emotion in this painting. 

Derek: He’s desperate.

Glen: I had only seen this painting in a black and white photograph, but when I finally tracked it down, I went to visit the collector. He was very private. Didn’t allow me to take a photograph, even. But I walked into his basement and I saw this painting and had such an emotional experience. 

Cameron: It's great. 

Eli: Love it.

Glen: Would you say it’s hopeful or hopeless?

Eli: Something’s going on in the painting though.

Glen: What?

Eli: It’s a storm. Those are rain clouds, I think.

Blake: The same colors are in lots of places.

Ryan: What do you mean?

Blake: Look at his shirt. It’s a white shirt, but the blues and greens of the sky are in it, too.

Derek: And what do you make of the light peering through the clouds? It’s like the heavens are hearing him, I think.

As I said, this is the conversation as best as I could remember it. What struck me most about the exchange of ideas at the time is that I thought I knew the painting really well. I had studied it, written about it, talked about it, and yet this group of people who had never seen it before had managed to see things and interpret it in ways that I hadn’t thought about. Their enthusiasm for it was really exciting.

I also loved the feeling in the room of discovery. You could sense it. These men like art well enough, but I wouldn’t say it’s a primary interest for all of them. And yet, they all felt like any observation was welcome, and as they uncovered more and more, their enthusiasm for interpretation grew (and maybe for art itself). A great experience. My thanks to them for letting me share.

- Glen Nelson

Now it’s your turn. Can you gather some people together and “read” an art work?