The Sistine ceiling paintings are amazing, of course, but seeing them in context, as opposed to isolated as closeups in books, I felt that they had to compete visually with an awful lot of other stuff. Not compete in terms of quality (they’d win all contests), but in terms of visual distraction. Too much artwork in one room! And they were so far away up there on the ceiling. It was like going to hear your favorite classical guitarist in a stadium, or perhaps a stadium with several stages, and other excellent musicians are playing other pieces at the same time! The performances might be great, but it’s hard to hear them.

The Raphaels, on the other hand, command and enhance the rooms they are in. Everything in those stanze works together, and creates an amazing environment. And when the tour groups move on, after their cursory stop on the way to the Sistine, you are in there alone with the paintings. It’s better than being a Pope :)

I don’t know. I was surprised myself. It must have something to do with the context and the competition. I felt that compared to the other artwork in the vicinity, the Raphael frescos were not as powerful as I had always imagined they would be, looking in books. The Sistine Chapel ceiling frescos are infinitely more powerful than anything I had imagined.

I don’t think I could name a favorite artwork if I had to. For me the thrill is in the discovery of something that shifts my view of the world, and of course that’s a moving target. On a recent trip to Italy, I was very moved by a number of things, including the Raphael stanze at the Vatican, Piero’s frescos in Arezzo, and the David. Those were all pretty expected (though certainly not disappointing!). But there were also some things that caught me by surprise. Like the inlaid marble floors outside the Duomo in Siena. And the ceilings of the Uffizi! I think I was the only person in the museum who was looking up.

I also saw an exhibition ten years ago of Aboriginal paintings at the Natural History Museum here in L.A. that was a revelation. And lately I’ve been fascinated by information graphics, and the insight that Edward Tuffte brings to them.

More often than asking people to tell me their favorite artwork, I find myself asking for and giving recommendations of books and music. Years ago a writer friend found out I was a fan of Thomas Pynchon, and he suggested I check out Don DeLillo. And I can’t remember who first introduced me to Radiohead, but I’m sure glad they did.

But that’s sort of off topic. Recently I began asking students on the first day of class who their favorite artist is. I have them write it down on their contact sheet. Mostly I get the usual suspects like Van Gogh and Michelangelo. And some students say they don’t know any! Talk about blank slate! But ocasionally a student puts someone down I’ve never heard of, a painter they just looked at in a magazine or something like that. And I get introduced to a new artist. Fun stuff.

Birgit, the image that accompanies your post is so lovely that I keep coming back to it just for sheer pleasure.

The question for the museum guard is kin to some of my favorites — I sometimes play games with my friends when we are at exhibits or museums — which piece would you take home and hang over the couch? Which would you hang where it faced you over morning coffee? Where you could see it lying in bed? Which do you love in its proper (probably museum) setting but wouldn’t really want to have in your house? Which one(s) would you think of building an entire building just to house?