A lot of art is lonely art. People come to a museum and look at the pictures on the wall, but they don’t really talk to each other. It would be better if they did, but how do you start?

I’ve heard people say that if you go to an art gallery with someone you just met, it’s rude to immediately start talking about what you see in front of you. But it’s hard not to. You’re both standing there looking at the same thing; surely there must be something you can say about it.

There are things you can say about the picture that are not either completely obvious or completely uninteresting, such as:

– Has anyone else ever said something like this about it? Do you agree?

– What is this feeling exactly? Does it have a name?

– What does this remind me of? Can I think of anything else that reminds me of this? Can I think of anything else that reminds me of those things? (Imagine what questions like these might yield if posed by a child.)

– Who made this picture? Was he or she interested in any other pictures or sculptures or buildings or poems or songs or anything else that seems similar to this picture, in some way? Or is this picture

It’s no surprise that it feels lonely to look at art. When you go to a gallery, you are surrounded by people who are looking at art. What is surprising is how much of the time they don’t look like they’re looking at anything.

Modern art galleries are crowded — but not with people looking at art. Most of the time, people who are in a gallery are looking at something else. Some of them are talking to each other or checking their phones or eating a sandwich or taking a picture of something that isn’t art. I think this is a problem that modern art has brought upon itself. Modernism, as the art critic Robert Hughes once told me, was “an exercise in loneliness.”

Even the most exuberant and sociable modernist works — Jackson Pollock’s drip paintings, say — make it hard for viewers to connect with one another, because there’s nothing to connect about: no story, no clearly visible means of production (like a brush mark), no content that would give rise to debate — just splotches of color on a flat surface. The same goes for Andy Warhol’s silkscreens of Marilyn Monroe, which were meant to be seen in reproduction: even when you’re standing right in front of one

“The art world is a business,” says one gallery owner, “and in the end it’s not about the art.” But what is it about?

In our own work we are driven by a sense of personal relevance and mission, but in the galleries we see mostly work that seems unappealing or irrelevant. It feels lonely to walk around in a gallery. There is nothing to grab onto, no motivating narrative. A few moments of painterly pleasure, or a nice shape or color, but nothing that deeply affects us.

And then there is the feeling of isolation we get from looking at modern art: everyone else looks like they’re having fun, but we’re not. How can it be?

We are looking at works that are made to be seen and understood as object; but they seem more like a puzzle to solve than a thing to look at. They do not invite us into their world; instead, they make demands on us. They are asking for something that we can’t give them: our attention and appreciation.

It’s not just the pieces themselves: it’s also the way they are presented. We feel like we have walked into an art gallery and found ourselves in an insurance office: there is no heart-warming sense of place,

I’m standing in front of the work and I don’t get it. I stare, I study, I think about it at length and from different angles. I look at the artist’s statement and try to find a way to relate it to what is in front of me. The more time passes, the more confused and a little angry I become.

The artist is famous. The gallery is a big deal. There are other people in the room, pointing at the work and nodding wisely, as if they have some inkling of what they’re looking at. But all I see is a big, ugly mess that doesn’t make any sense to me.

I feel helpless and stupid. And if you’ve ever found yourself in this situation, you know exactly how I feel.

Art can be lonely. It feels like there’s something happening inside you: a response, an intuitive understanding that’s not being communicated to anyone else around you. You look around and everyone else seems to “get” what’s on the wall or hanging from the ceiling or sitting on the pedestal in front of them – except for you.*

And this happens all the time in art galleries: art is made to be seen communally; it has no meaning without other viewers; its

The great art critic Robert Hughes, who also had a vast knowledge of religion and was not averse to discussing it in his art criticism (both in the New York Times and in his books), said that he could not believe that post-modern art was not a gigantic joke, despite the sincerity of its practitioners. He saw no way that any human being could look at some of the things that were on display and treat them as serious expressions of anything other than their own self-regard.

Clement Greenberg, the Marxist critic, understood better than Hughes why some people might see modernism as an exercise in self-expression; but he thought it better to create something new and have it be judged by its own terms, rather than as a representation of something else. I think that is probably true. But what if there are no terms?

A friend of mine pointed out an exhibition at Tate Britain recently which was a retrospective of the paintings of Frank Auerbach. Auerbach is one of those artists whose work is admired by other artists, perhaps because they know him personally or know other people who do. He’s done a lot of portraits (of Francis Bacon among others) which are very good indeed, but he also does landscapes and interiors. One room

Loneliness is a subjective and personal emotion. It can be defined in any number of ways, but loneliness is generally defined as the feeling of being alone, even when one is not physically alone. The opposite of loneliness may be defined as the feeling of contentment or happiness while being surrounded by people.

Loneliness is often thought to be an emotion that occurs when there is a disconnect between the desires and expectations of a person and those who share his or her living space. In other words, loneliness may occur due to disappointment over a missed opportunity for friendship, romance or familial relationship.

Loneliness can also occur when an individual experiences social rejection or betrayal by others, such as friends or family members. When a person suffers from this kind of loneliness it can lead to depression, anxiety, anger and low self-esteem, among other negative effects. Many people suffer from loneliness throughout their lives without realizing that they are actually suffering from it.

Loneliness may also occur due to clinical depression, bipolar disorder or mental illnesses involving feelings of despair and hopelessness. Clinical depression may result in feelings of sadness and despair that lead to feelings of isolation and loneliness even in the presence of others. Bipolar disorder often involves periods in which individuals feel extremely happy followed by periods in which they feel