I was not aware of my status as an art tourist until I travelled to Rome. A group of us spent an eventful weekend visiting some of the most touristy destinations. My mindset was that of someone who felt the need to see everything all at once, essentially, a tourist. I wanted to take everything in and I was not too worried about seeing “art.” In fact we saw very limited amounts of formal art in galleries and looked upon the amounts of street art that surrounded Rome. I was caught up in the idea that I should do the most touristy things as possible, there didn’t seem any time to actually go to a museum.
This program masked what I thought of as being an art tourist. Taking an overnight bus to Rome and feeling absolutely exhausted in order to see anything I did not have access to in Venice really gave me a newfound insight as to the lengths and privilege it takes to get there. We had a plan of what we wanted to see and when, and we tried to follow through. However we were not able to do everything on our list. In fact, we were so tired of traveling that the second day we barely left our Airbnb. This made me wonder what it must be like for artists and art historians who have such limited amounts of time to spend at biennales. I thought I was going to pass out from lack of sleep and too much exposure. I realized that this is the reality of many of the art world. In order to find the privilege to make it to these far European cities, one must sacrifice just a little of themselves for the sake of art. In a way, an art tourist becomes a sort of performance art. A performance that entails lots of testing of the mind of those at the center of the art world where the audience is oneself.
There seems to be expectations to view as much work as possible: quantity over quality. I had the urge to go to the Vatican and see the Sistine Chapel, but somehow, the universe intended for us to see the most mundane tourist attractions. I was not wowed by the Palatine Hill or the Roman Forum. I was certainly not taken aback by the Pantheon either. I did not feel like an art history student, I felt like a tourist and it made me a little sad to know that I was able to strip away my identity as an art history student so quickly, just to become another average tourist.
In Venice, it was so easy to denounce the existence of all the tourists in San Marco. I learned to forget to say “excuse me” or “sorry” because no one would ever even hear me over the clicking of snapshots and audible gasps as they seize the beauty of Venice. I found myself completely distinguishing myself from those tourists and referred to their lives as much separate from my own. I was and still am an art history student, yet while in Rome, I forgot about what that really meant. What I am trying to illustrate is that I had a mini identity crisis in Rome. I thought I was an art history student or an art tourist, and yet I became just a plain tourist. I fell into the trap that I had to see everything that Rome had to offer without realizing why I was really there. Maybe I was captivated by the intricacies of the city or completely oblivious to the fact that I subconsciously had no idea the true weight of being an art tourist
In this moment, I am on an overnight bus to Zurich watching the Italian countryside fade away into oblivion. I reflect on my time in Venice as joyful and one full of many revelations. I realized that there is no way of stripping away the tourism from art tourism. These identities are intertwined. Secondly, it is ok that I did not see that much art in Rome because I was not there to view art, I was there to be a tourist. I am satisfied with admitting that even though I despise tourists, mainly those I have encountered in Venice. And finally, one must really really love the work that one does in order to spend various amounts of money to travel to Europe. I don’t think I am at that stage yet, but I do hope that one day I will find something that I love so much to be the art tourist of my field.
Abdih2,
I agree with you. When I think of my little trip to Rome I don’t remember seeing a museum there. I do recall visiting the nearby country of the Vatican and its museum or galleries. I recall its Sistine Chapel; on the ceiling God was a painting of God creating Adam. I bought a book of art and it shows a close up of God’s finger touching Adam’s finger, I think. I recall that the Vatican is guarded by guards from Switzerland, “Swiss guards.” Anyway, I would agree that I did not see a memorable art museum in Rome either.
Like you I stuck to the Roman ruins. In about 1979 the coliseum had lots of cats in it. Across the street from that was the Roman forum and a few columns. We high school students who took Latin did not spend the night in a hotel in Rome because it was so expensive. Instead we spent four nights in lesser-known Sorrento, from which we took day trips, one to Rome, a trip through Assissi (then town with the horse race), another to Naples and Sorrento for a wood carving studio, a tour-bus ride down the beautiful Amalfi drive, and a boat trip out to Capri. Not staying in Rome saved us money, but meant that we did not see as much as you did in your weekend there.
How cool that you saw catacombs.
My grandfather identified the hanging body of Mussolini, identified it for the American government. After World War II, my Mom grew up in Rome, from 1945-1948 or 1949, starting at age five. When you were five you may have been working on reading, and so was she. So her mother wanted her to keep going so she wanted her to go to an English language school. Five British women founded the Overseas School of Rome. It was my grandmother who obtained from the American Ambassador the right to use one of Mussolini’s castles as a school building in the Overseas [International?] School of Rome. Kids at the school had a private meeting with the pope. And lots of other stories about Rome … . But the stories, if they were about art, were about outdoor things like you saw, including a fountain. There is the Trevi fountain. Mom must have thrown a coin into the fountain because she was able to return to Rome with me when I was in high school with my Latin class.
Glad you chose Rome. It’s OK you were e tourist; in the 19th century traveling in Europe was seen as part of being educated. I am impressed you took yourself Rome and you were visiting it on your own, not on a tour. As you pointed out it takes energy to do that, look up the sites you wish to visit, pausing to take care of yourself, not being dragged around by someone else. (Polly LYNN)
Thank you for the reassurance! I have definitely realized that it was not the worst thing in the world to be a tourist and it was important for me to become more grounded when it comes to traveling. I wish I was able to visit Florence where I would have seen more art, but I am glad that my trip to Rome was successful!