Five minutes in front of a painting

In a museum, the average time in front of a work is a few seconds. Then the label, then the next room. Nothing wrong with that; it is how we walk. But a work you are thinking of living with deserves something else, and the something else takes five minutes and no training at all.

The first minute: say nothing

Stand where you can see the whole thing without turning your head, and let your eyes go where they want. Do not read the title yet. Do not decide anything. Notice only where your eye lands first and where it goes next; that path is the work's own choreography, and the artist spent longer on it than on anything else.

The second minute: come closer

Now get as close as the room allows. Look at how the paint is put on: thin and flat, thick and raised, scraped, dragged, layered until an earlier colour shows through. A surface tells you how the work was made and how it will age. It also tells you something no photograph can, which is why a work that looked ordinary on a screen can stop you in a gallery, and the reverse.

The third minute: the edges

Go to the sides. Where does the image stop? What did the artist decide to leave out? Look at the corners, which are the least rehearsed part of any painting, and at how the picture meets its edge. Collectors learn to look at edges the way cooks taste a sauce: it is where the care shows.

The fourth minute: step back again

Return to the first spot. The work is different now, because you are. Ask the only question that matters: does it still hold you? A work that gets better the longer you look is the one to live with. A work that gave you everything in the first glance will give you nothing on the hundredth morning.

The fifth minute: one sentence

Say, to yourself or to whoever is with you, one sentence about what it does. Not what it is of; what it does. “It makes the room quieter.” “It looks like it is about to move.” If you cannot find the sentence, that is an answer too. If you can, you have just done what a good advisor does, and you did it yourself.

Why this matters before buying

Screens flatten. Every work on this site is photographed well, and still the surface is only half the work. Ask for a short video, or for the work to be brought in front of a window, before you decide.

Five minutes cost nothing. A work costs what it costs. The best protection against regret is the slowest look you can afford to give.

The sentence travels. Years later, that one sentence is what you will tell a guest. It is the beginning of a work's story in your house.

If you would like company

This is what we do every day from Mexico City: help people find, buy and live with original contemporary art. Book a free 30-minute call, or simply look at the works for sale and write to us about the one that stays with you.

Image: “Maleza” by Bastián Pino, oil on canvas.