Questions to Ask About Art
For a teacher, parent, docent or museum visitor standing in front of a painting, a sculpture or a student's own piece, with a class, a child or a friend to talk to. The 55 questions follow the way a good look goes: what you see, how it was made, what it might mean, the artist and the time, your own response, and a last group for critiquing student work. Within each group the wording a young child can answer comes first and the questions for teenagers and adults come later, and every question has a note on what a strong or a worrying answer sounds like and what to do with it.
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The questions
Each question, and why to ask it
What you see
What is the first thing your eye goes to?
Why ask it
It tends to be a face, the brightest patch or the sharpest edge. Ask what pulled them there and where their eye went next, and the group is already talking about contrast and placement without needing either word.
What colors can you find, and which one is there the most of?
Why ask it
A three-year-old can answer this, which makes it the opener for a young group. Follow with the color there is least of and where it sits, because one small spot of red in a gray picture can be the thing the whole arrangement points to.
What do you think is happening here?
Why ask it
Take three or four different answers before you comment on any of them. A group that goes quiet and waits for you to supply the real story is the worrying sign, so tell them the label has not been read yet and ask for a second version.
Can you show me where you see that?
Why ask it
This is the follow-up to almost any answer someone gives about a work of art. A good answer is a finger pointed at a place: 'her hand is on the door, so she is leaving'. If the answer is 'I just think so', ask whether anyone else can find it for them, which keeps the speaker from feeling caught out.
What can you point to and name, without saying what it means yet?
Why ask it
Go around the circle, one item each, until someone names a thing nobody else had seen. Adults often find this harder than children do, because they jump straight to meaning, so stop anyone who starts a sentence with 'it represents'.
If you could step inside this, what would you hear, smell or feel under your feet?
Why ask it
Young children who cannot yet describe a mood can tell you it would be cold, or loud, or smell of fish. When someone says it would be quiet, ask what in the picture is making it quiet.
What is closest to us, and what is farthest away?
Why ask it
Young children can point to both. Then ask how the artist made the far things look far: smaller, paler, higher up, half hidden behind something else. Some works have no distance in them at all, and saying that everything sits flat on the surface is a real observation, not a wrong answer.
What did you only notice after a full minute of looking?
Why ask it
Time the minute in silence first and expect it to feel long. Good answers are small and physical, such as a second figure in a doorway or a thumbprint in the clay. If nobody has one, give the room another minute before you move on.
Which lines or shapes show up more than once?
Why ask it
Have children trace them in the air with a finger: the curve of a hill repeated in a shoulder, three heads that make a triangle. The answer to listen for finds a repeat that links two unrelated things. In an abstract work the repeats may be the whole subject, so give this one more time there.
Where is the light coming from?
Why ask it
Have everyone point. In a painting the shadows settle it, and a picture with no shadows at all is worth a second question about why it reads as flat. A sculpture borrows the light of the room, so walk around it and watch which parts go dark.
What is in the corners and along the edges?
Why ask it
Eyes tend to stay in the middle of a work. The edges are where figures get cut off, where signatures and dates sit, and where a painter sometimes tucks the detail that changes the scene. For a sculpture, ask what is around the back and how the thing meets the floor.
How would you describe this to someone who could not see it?
Why ask it
Run it in pairs, with one person facing away while the other describes, then let the listener turn around and say what surprised them. Whatever the speaker mentioned first is usually what they take to be the heart of the work. Whatever they skipped is your next question.
How it was made
What do you think it is made of?
Why ask it
Guess before anyone reads the label, then check. Wrong guesses are worth hearing: a child who takes bronze for wood has noticed the surface. With little ones, ask whether it would feel cold, rough or heavy. Whether anything may be touched depends on the museum, and some keep a handling sample for exactly this, so ask at the desk.
Can you find a place where the artist's hand shows: a brushstroke, a tool mark, a fingerprint?
Why ask it
Finding one turns the object from a picture of something into a thing a person stood and made. If the surface is perfectly smooth, that is an answer too, and you can ask how much work it takes to hide every trace.
Does it look different from across the room than it does up close?
Why ask it
Send the group to the far wall, then bring them in as near as the museum permits. How close you may stand differs from place to place, so check the signs or ask a guard. The answer you want names something that appears or dissolves on the way in.
Which part looks as if it took the longest, and which part looks fast?
Why ask it
Children tend to equate detail with time, which is a fair place to begin. The second half matters more: a loose, quick passage beside a tight one usually shows where the artist wanted you to linger. Ask whether fast means careless and see who defends it.
What do you think went down first, and what was added last?
Why ask it
Nobody has to be right. A thoughtful answer reasons from overlap: the branches cross the sky, so the sky was there first. With a carving, turn it around and ask what was the last thing taken away.
How big is it next to you, and what would change if it were much smaller or much bigger?
Why ask it
If the class is looking at a projection or a book, give the real measurements and have two students mark them out with their arms. A work you lean into and a work that towers over you ask for different behavior, and size is a choice the artist made that people rarely count as one.
Is there any part where you can't tell how the artist did it?
Why ask it
Puzzlement is an honest way into technique, and it lets the adult in charge admit to not knowing either. Write the question down and take it to the label, a docent or the museum's website afterward, so the group sees a question get followed up instead of bluffed.
Why this material? What would change if it were a photograph, or carved in stone?
Why ask it
Swapping the medium in your head shows what the real one is doing. Strong answers name a loss, like the softness of pastel or the sheer weight of marble. If someone says it would be the same, point to one area and ask how a camera would have handled it.
What has been left out, left blank or left unfinished?
Why ask it
Bare canvas at the edge, an empty background, a face with no features. The group will argue over whether the artist ran out of time or chose to stop, and both sides can point to evidence. Hold back from ruling on it unless the label does.
What it means
If there is a person in it, what are they thinking, and how can you tell?
Why ask it
Let young children answer as the figure, in a voice if they like. The evidence is in the hands, the shoulders and where the eyes are pointed. In a portrait, ask who the sitter seems to be looking at, since it is often the viewer.
If this is one moment in a story, what happened just before and what happens next?
Why ask it
It suits any work with figures or a setting, from about age five. Listen for stories that use the details over stories that ignore them. For an abstract piece it falls flat, so swap it for what the work would sound like as music.
What title would you give it?
Why ask it
Collect titles before the label is read, then compare them with the real one. A title is an interpretation in a few words, so the spread shows how many readings the group is holding. If the label says Untitled, ask why an artist might decline to name a work.
What is the mood, and what in the work is giving you that?
Why ask it
Insist on the second half. 'Sad' is a start, and 'sad because everything droops and the colors are grayed' is a reading. When two people name opposite moods, have each point to their evidence and leave both standing.
Where has the artist put us: above, below, inside the scene or shut out of it?
Why ask it
Viewpoint carries meaning that most viewers absorb without noticing. Looking up at a figure tends to make it grand and looking down tends to make it small, and children can crouch or go on tiptoe to test that. Ask who would normally get to stand where we are standing.
Does anything here seem to stand for something else?
Why ask it
A grounded answer ties the symbol to something else in the work, like the wilting flower beside the old man. Be wary of a confident decoding that comes from nowhere, because not every apple means temptation. If the label explains a symbol from the period, read it out after the guesses.
What do you think the artist wanted us to feel or think about?
Why ask it
Frame it as a guess, since nobody in the room can know. Teenagers often assume there is one hidden answer the teacher is holding. Once they have stated it, ask whether the work would be any worse if the artist had meant something else.
What attitude does the work take toward its subject: admiring, mocking, mourning or simply recording?
Why ask it
The four choices keep a group of older students or adults from stalling. Attitude shows in what has been flattered and what has been exaggerated. If people settle on 'simply recording', ask what the artist chose not to show, because selection is an attitude too.
Artist and time
Before we read the label, when and where do you think this was made?
Why ask it
The clues are clothes, buildings, technology and the material itself. Being three hundred years out is fine when the reasoning comes from the work. Read the label aloud afterward and ask which clue misled people.
Who do you think this was made for, and where was it meant to be seen?
Why ask it
A work made for a chapel, a family dining room or a street corner behaves differently on a white gallery wall. The best answers picture the first setting: candlelight, a high shelf, a crowd walking past. Check the label for a patron or a commission before you confirm anything.
What else have you seen that looks like this, and what is different here?
Why ask it
The work hanging next to it is the easiest comparison, since galleries are usually arranged with a reason. Children will reach for picture books, cartoons and video games, and those count. Hold out for one specific difference, not just 'it's the same style'.
What does the label tell us, and what does it leave out?
Why ask it
Most labels give a maker, a date and a material, and some add how the work arrived in the collection. Who paid for it and who owned it in between are often missing. How much a museum publishes differs widely, so ask a staff member or look up the object on its website.
What was going on in the world, or in the artist's life, when this was made?
Why ask it
Without facts this turns into guessing dressed up as history. If you are leading, bring two or three things you have checked and offer them only after the looking is done. A parent with no notes can turn it into something to look up together on the way home.
Now that we know something about the artist, does it change what you see, and should it?
Why ask it
'Should it' is where adults divide. One side holds that a work stands on its own and the other that you cannot unknow a biography. With children, give one plain fact, such as how old the artist was, and ask what they notice now that they missed before.
What would someone who saw this when it was new have understood that we miss?
Why ask it
Think of clothing that signaled rank, a story every viewer knew, or a pigment that cost a fortune. The group will mostly be speculating, which is useful in itself because it marks the limit of what looking alone can tell you. Then reverse it and ask what we can see that they could not.
Why do you think someone decided this should be kept and put on display?
Why ask it
It opens up who chooses: collectors, curators, donors, committees. A good discussion pulls apart 'it is well made', 'it mattered historically' and 'somebody with money liked it'. How a given museum acquires and selects work is its own story, so put the question to the people who work there.
Your response
How does looking at it make you feel?
Why ask it
The mood of a work and the feeling of the person looking at it can differ: a cheerful picture can annoy someone and a bleak one can feel restful. Young children can show the feeling with their face or body before they have a word for it. 'Nothing' is allowed, and asking what the work would need for them to feel something often gets a real reply.
Do you like it, and can you say why without using the words good or bad?
Why ask it
Liking is better asked late, once there is something to like or dislike with. Banning the two words forces a specific. From a small child, 'I just do' is a fine answer, and you can ask them to point at their favorite bit.
Would you hang it at home, and in which room?
Why ask it
Admiring a work and wanting to live with it are different things, and this pulls them apart. 'Not in the bedroom, it would stare at me' says more about what the piece does than a paragraph of analysis. Ask a child whose room it should go in.
What does it remind you of from your own life?
Why ask it
A memory is not an interpretation, but it is often the reason a person cares about a work at all. Hear two or three, then ask whether it was the subject, the color or the mood that brought the memory up. If a child goes quiet, move on without pressing.
If you could come back to only one work in this room, which would it be?
Why ask it
Use it at the end of a gallery and have everyone walk over and stand beside their choice. You will get clusters and a few people alone, so invite someone standing alone to make their case. It also tells a teacher or parent where to begin on the next visit.
Which part would you change or take out?
Why ask it
Have everyone hold up a hand at arm's length to cover the part they would remove, and look at what remains. Quite often the awkward figure turns out to be balancing the whole picture. A person who can defend the cut has moved from taste to critique.
If you could ask the artist one thing, what would it be?
Why ask it
Each person's choice shows what the work left unsettled for them, whether that is how it was done or why. A class can write theirs down and see which the label already answers. In front of a student's piece the artist is in the room, so go ahead and ask.
Has your first impression changed since we started looking?
Why ask it
A closer for a single work. Remind people what they said at the start if they have forgotten. A changed mind is one good result, and 'I still dislike it, but now I can say why' is another.
Could a child have made this, and what would be different if one had?
Why ask it
Somebody is thinking it in front of most modern work, so you may as well ask it out loud. Look for control: clean edges, layers, a decision about where to stop. The honest answer is sometimes yes, and then the better question is why this one is on the wall.
Does a work have to be beautiful to be good?
Why ask it
Save it for teenagers and adults, and ask it in front of something harsh or plain on purpose. People will bring examples from outside the gallery, like a war photograph or a sad song. Pull them back to the piece in front of you: if not beauty, what is this one after?
Student work
Can you tell me about what you made?
Why ask it
A small child may give you a story ('this is when the dog got out') and an older student the problem they were trying to solve, and either one is the thread to follow. Say back what you heard, then get curious about one area: 'tell me about this blue part'. If all you get is a shrug, describe one thing you can see and wait.
Which part are you happiest with?
Why ask it
Starting with the maker's own judgment shows you what they were aiming at before anyone else weighs in. If the answer is 'none of it', ask which part was the most fun to do. That is usually where the piece has some life in it.
What was the hardest part to get right?
Why ask it
Students usually know where the trouble is: the hands, the far edge of the table, the glaze that ran. Letting them say it first means you are agreeing with a diagnosis, not delivering one. Ask what they tried, then offer one suggestion and stop.
What do you want someone to notice first, and is that what we noticed?
Why ask it
Ask the group what they saw first before the maker answers, or the comparison is spoiled. A mismatch is the most useful feedback in a critique because it is a report, not an opinion. The maker then decides whether to fix it or enjoy the surprise.
What is working in this piece, and where exactly?
Why ask it
Put this one to the rest of the group, with the rule that praise has to point at a place. 'The reflection in the window' helps and 'it's really good' does not. Run this round before any suggestions so the maker knows what to protect when they go back in.
What would you want to ask the maker before you suggest anything?
Why ask it
'Did you mean the background to be that flat?' saves a student from being corrected on something they did on purpose. If suggestions start flying before anyone has asked what the piece was for, stop and reset. With younger classes, one question each is plenty.
Do you think it is finished, and what tells you?
Why ask it
Young children often stop when the paper is full or when they are bored, and older students tend to keep going past the point where it was best. Ask what one more addition would do to it. Resist answering for them, even when you can see it.
What did you figure out making this that you will use in the next one?
Why ask it
Ending here turns the piece into a step, which takes some sting out of its flaws. Have them write one sentence on the back or in a sketchbook. A vague 'be more careful' deserves a nudge toward something they can do, like mixing the color before starting.
Leading a conversation in front of a work of art
Practical guidance for the conversation itself
Before anyone speaks
Look first, in silence
Give the group a full minute with the work before the first question, and say out loud that you are timing it so nobody feels they have to fill the silence. The small discoveries come out of that minute, and a group that has had it has something to say when the first question lands. With children under six, thirty seconds and a job ('find three animals') does the same work.
One work, not the whole room
Twenty minutes with a single painting teaches more looking than a lap of forty. Choose two or three works for a visit and walk past the rest without apology. A work with figures, a setting and some puzzle about what is going on is the easiest place to start a group that is new to this.
Hold the label back
Once the title, date and artist have been read, the group stops guessing and starts agreeing with the wall. Gather the group on the side away from the label if you can, and read it aloud when you reach the Artist and time questions. The guesses made beforehand are what make the facts interesting.
Ask the museum how it works there
Rules on group size, sitting on the floor, sketching, photographs, bags and how near you can stand are different in every building, and some galleries have their own. Call ahead or ask at the desk when you arrive. Many museums also have a schools or family program, and the people who run it will tell you which rooms are quiet at which hours.
When all you have is a reproduction
In a classroom or at a kitchen table the work is a projection, a poster or a page. Tell the group the real size and the real material before you begin, because a screen makes a miniature and a mural look alike. If the museum that owns it has a zoomable image online, use that for the questions about brushwork and edges.
Wording it for the age in front of you
Three to six
Keep to things a child can point at, count or act out: colors, animals, the weather, what the person is doing with their hands. The senses question and 'what do you think is happening here?' carry most of a visit. Five to ten minutes on one work is a success, and copying a figure's pose with their own body counts as an answer.
Seven to eleven
This age loves a story and will defend one, so the before-and-after question and the title question do well. It is also the age to start asking 'show me where you see that' after every answer. They enjoy being detectives about how a thing was made, especially when the adult admits to not knowing.
Teenagers
Give them something to disagree with: the label, each other, you. Permission to dislike a famous work, as long as they can say why, usually produces more looking than any amount of encouragement. The questions about what the artist intended, whether a child could have made it and whether art has to be beautiful are built for this group.
Adults
Many adults want the facts first and treat looking as a test they might fail. Start them on the plain inventory, where there is no wrong answer, and keep the label for later as you would with a class. With a friend, trade answers instead of quizzing: give yours, then ask for theirs.
A mixed group
On a family visit, let the youngest answer first. Their observations are concrete and give the older ones something to build on, and it stops a confident adult from settling the matter in one sentence. Then hand a harder version of the same question up the ages.
What to do with the answers
Send every answer back to the work
Whatever someone says, the follow-up is some form of 'where do you see that?' It turns an opinion into an observation the rest of the group can check with their own eyes. After a few rounds, children tend to offer the evidence before they are asked for it, and that habit is the main thing a visit can teach.
Say it back without grading it
Repeat the answer in slightly different words and point to the place it refers to. Avoid 'good' and 'exactly': praise for one answer can tell everyone else that theirs was the wrong one, and the talk narrows toward what the leader seems to want.
Let two readings stand
If one person sees a storm coming and another sees it clearing, have each show their evidence and leave it there. Most works support more than one reading, and a group that expects a ruling stops looking the moment it gets one. The exception is a plain fact, such as what the object is made of, which the label can settle.
When you do not know
Say so. A leader who does not know how a print was pulled or who the woman in the portrait was has an honest question to add to the list. Take the list to the label, a docent, the audio guide or the museum's own website, and tell the group afterward what you found.
Give the facts late and one at a time
Drop in a single piece of context, such as the date or what the work was made for, then ask what people see differently now. One fact that sends eyes back to the work is worth more than a lecture that lets them drift to the next room.
When the work belongs to someone in the room
Asking what it is
To a young child, 'what is it?' can sound like proof that you could not tell, and guessing wrong is worse: the dog you called a horse stays a sore point. Ask to be told about it, or describe what you can see: 'you used a lot of orange up here'. The child will usually supply the subject without being asked.
Praise that points nowhere
At home, 'I love it' is the reflex reply to every drawing held up, and it gives the maker nothing to keep. Name one place and what it does: the dark corner that makes the lamp look lit. In a classroom the same habit pays twice, because a class that learns to praise precisely is learning to criticize precisely too.
Advice before questions
A suggestion made before anyone knows what the maker was trying to do is often aimed at the wrong piece. Run the order the Student work questions are in: the maker speaks, the group says what it sees, the group asks, and only then does anyone suggest. Keep suggestions to one or two, phrased as something to try.
Taking over the brush
Drawing the correction onto a student's work fixes that piece and can teach them that the adult's version is the right one. Show the idea on a scrap of paper or on your own sheet. Whether to use it stays the maker's decision.
Ranking the room
A critique that ends with a best piece turns every later one into a contest, and the students who most need to hear about their work may stop putting it up. Compare each piece with what its maker set out to do and with their last one, not with the easel beside it.