by Megan Neely

I have long taken for granted my ability to talk about art. I enjoy describing how the seemingly innocuous features of a painting or sculpture can be imbued with ideas of enormous gravity. The skill of merging the historical contexts of a work and its actual imagery is a requisite part of the art history discipline. Assisting in WIP courses this semester has reminded me of the difficulty this skill presents. How do you say in words that Michelangelo’s hulking figures on the Sistine Chapel ceiling can be viewed as a commentary on the rivalry between painting and sculpture?

Or how the visual culture of ancient India translated the wider dialogue of Buddhist theology? Writing in art history is to paint with words. Students must link the minutiae of what an artist has created to broader concepts that seem beyond the scope of a single object. The ability requires as much focus and persistent practice as a brush on a canvas or chisel on stone.

If the skill itself is difficult, teaching others how to write about art is just as arduous a process. Visual analysis is a fundamental part of art history, but even students within the discipline struggle at first to use works of art as a resource in their papers. By instinct students automatically turn to familiar ways of writing a research paper, finding relevant literature that speaks about the social and historical contexts that surround a work, or drawing on the themes discussed in class. Neither of these approaches is incorrect, but they typically lead to students disregarding the imagery as a byproduct of those contexts, rather than an object complexly entwined with the ideas. My job as a WIP TA has been to help students adapt to this discipline-specific form of writing, and our training throughout the semester was invaluable towards that process.

One of the most rewarding things about art is the wealth of explanations an object has. I was initially concerned at the beginning of the semester that my own interpretations of the works would interfere with the students’ writing. Ultimately, I feared I would be more of a hindrance than a benefit. Fortunately, our WIP training quickly addressed various ways to respond to student writing. In particular I was drawn to asking questions of students as I commented on their drafts. This allowed me to direct students to ways they could be using the imagery within the wider scope of their argument without comprising their distinctive way of viewing a work. This strategy has not only helped better the quality of my comments for students, but has improved the way I approach my own work. In thinking critically on how to integrate formal analysis more fluidly into a piece of writing, I can now better articulate how to write about art, both for myself, and to students.