What makes a work of art great: thinking about criteria

There is a very nice appreciation of Velazquez painting 'Las Meninas' in today's Washington Post by Blake Gopnik. He calls the painting "the greatest work of art in the Western tradition. Gopnik accompanies the article with another on Velazquez and with photos of works of art that Gopnik considers "runners up" to the Velazquez.  The paper even provides a streaming audio linked to the painting. The Internet version is in fact better than the newspaper version because the online illustrations are in color and one can see them better.

Gopnik got me to thinking about the criteria one would use to measure greatness in a work of (visual) art. It goes without saying that craft competence would be a basic requirement; the artist must accomplish well what he/she set out to do. Gopnik, in discarding works such as the Mona Lisa and Michelangelo's David requires that the work not be so iconic that we can no longer really see it. That is an interesting criterion, in that it is based on our perception rather than something that is intrinsic in the work itself. But I suppose greatness is indeed a measure of our response to the work.

Gopnik seems to measure greatness in terms of the intellectual power of the work -- how strongly does it challenge and reward the viewers efforts to interpret and understand the work. Gopnik spent a week in front of Las Meninas in the Prado recently, and there are few works that would so reward so long and thoughtful an analysis. As readers of this blog might recognize, I rather like intellectual power as a criterion for measuring the greatness of a piece of art.

Art dealers probably would measure greatness in terms of what a work would bring at auction. That seems meretricious to me, especially since I am skeptical about the artistic judgment of the deep pockets that pay millions for a work. Then too, the sales prices of works of art soar or dive according to economic conditions, trends and fads and thus can not be accurate measures of greatness.

Museums, I think, tend to judge greatness of a work of art in terms of its impact on later artists and their art. I like this criterion too, in that it is based on the judgement of other artists who are likely to observe and consider a work deeply. However, it is also a criterion that extends from the pure visual impact of the work to its historical importance. The work of Giotto, for example, does not for me have the same aesthetic value as that of artists of the high renaissance, but it surely has enormous importance in the history of art. Still, I think that there are great works that did not change the history of art, as some artists simply do their own thing. Indeed, I can imagine a work so great that other artists feel it completes a school of art and go on to seek alternative expressions of genius.

This posting was occasioned by my recognition that Gopnik did not emphasize either the emotional impact of a work of art or the pure beauty. Think of the Boating Party by Renoir, a painting so beautiful that one can simple bask in its grace. It is also a painting that leaves one feeling happy, enjoying by reflection the emotional and physical warmth of a day in the country with one's friends.

Alternatively, think of the success of a work of art in conveying a message. After all, works chartered by the church sought not only to link by reference to a theme important to the religion but also to instill in the viewer a sense of awe or devotion. I usually find politically inspired art not to be great, but if one goes back to the renaissance some works intended to reinforce the political status of the patron seem to overcome that liability. Think of Picasso's Guernica, a work of great power that expresses outrage at an atrocity, a work of a major artist at the peak of his career which combines intellectual power with emotional  power and political impact.

If one allows that there are many criteria of greatness of a work of art, then I would suggest that no single work will top the scale in each dimension. Perhaps we are fortunate to have many works of art, each the greatest in its own way.