As an arts critic, I give in to my subconscious. But what's really happening in my mind?

It’s a haunting image, yet also unexpectedly serene, grounded by a sense of inevitability. 

I was at the AGO to try its Art Rate Monitor program, which tracks how visitors respond to its various collections of art by measuring their heart rates with wristbands and some 120 beacons that track their precise location across the museum’s five levels. 

And it was van der Veken’s “Pietà” that seemed to have the greatest impact on me, calming me down and lowering my heart rate to 70 beats per minute. Some of my other results: I spent the most time (two minutes) taking in Christi Belcourt’s 2014 painting, “The Wisdom of the Universe”; I’m in my “blue” era (not surprising, as that’s always been my favourite colour); and I’m supposedly a “connector,” meaning that I’m “outgoing, loyal and compassionate.” (How flattering.) 

If this all sounds like a horoscope, you’re not wrong. The Art Rate Monitor isn’t meant to be scientific.

“We’re using this more as a tool for engagement,” said Robert Durocher, chief of education and programming for the AGO. “It’s an entryway into an artwork. And it demonstrates that we each engage with art differently and it means different things to different people, depending on their likes, interests and emotional connections.” 

But scientific or not, the AGO’s Art Rate Monitor program led me to reflect more deeply on how art affects us psychologically and emotionally. Why did van der Veken’s sculpture affect me the way that it did? What happens in our minds when we view a work that moves us? And how do our past experiences shape how we experience art? 

These are questions I’ve been grappling for years, especially in my dual role as a critic and reporter. Because there’s an awkward tension in wearing those two hats. As a reporter, I’m supposed to write on what I know to be true. But to be a critic is to sit in a murky sea of subjectivity. 

In a review, I write not about the verifiable truth, but attempt (using the imperfect medium that is the written language) to explain my subconscious, to elucidate why a particular piece of art made me feel the way it did. But there are times when words fail me, when I can’t quite explain what’s going through my mind. 

Not surprisingly, this frustrates me. But it also fascinates me, too. So, in an attempt to better understand what happens in our brains when we process art, I spoke with Dirk Bernhardt-Walther, a professor of psychology at the University of Toronto. 

The art that most resonates with us, he explained, are often the works that we can easily recognize, with themes and ideas that we’re familiar with or that connect to our lives.

When we first view a work, our brains go into overdrive as we try to understand it, holding on to various possible solutions. But when that moment of recognition occurs, everything collapses down to a single answer. 

“That transition from the high energy to the low energy state, that’s the ‘aha’ experience,” said Bernhardt-Walther. “And it’s very enjoyable.”

This phenomenon explains why in the theatre, for instance, many audiences enjoy jukebox or parody musicals, based on artists or other works that they know and love. 

It also explains why, onstage, I’m often partial to immigrant stories. (I’m an immigrant myself.) Or why van der Veken’s “Pietà” so profoundly moved me at the AGO. (Thanks to Sunday school.) 

The science backs this all up. The American cognitive scientist James E. Cutting, in fact, calls the phenomenon the “mere exposure effect.” And it’s behind why most people tend to enjoy figurative art, with images they can recognize, much more than abstract works.

There are practical applications to this research, too. Art galleries can help their visitors better enjoy abstract works by providing more detailed descriptions. Viewers also tend to prefer works that are titled than those that aren’t, said Bernhardt-Walther.

“People don’t just want to enjoy the superficial qualities of an artwork: the lines and the colours. They want to have a deeper connection with it.”

He went on to explain that when we process art, it occurs in two waves. First is a split-second “perceptual” wave — basically an approach or avoid reaction. Then come several waves of contemplation, which can take place for several minutes.

“And it’s in this phase when we’re scrutinizing the work and relating it back to our existing knowledge,” said Bernhardt-Walther. 

That who we are as individuals shapes how we judge a piece of art makes sense. Because art is inherently personal. And it’s fitting that when we evaluate a work of art, we’re also, in some way, evaluating ourselves.

The American critic Barry Schwabsky, writing for the Brooklyn Rail, put it best: “It’s not criticism unless it’s also (at least implicitly) self-criticism. You must be putting to the test, not just the artwork, but yourself in your response to it.”