Last weekend, I stood in front of a painting that once made me cry. It's bold, abstract, full of chaos and feeling—something that used to stop me in my tracks. But this time, I barely saw it.

I was too busy dodging phones, trying not to appear in the background of other people's perfect shots. A couple near me took turns posing. They never even looked at the brushstrokes. And that got me wondering: are we still here for the art?

The rise of the "photo-first" museum visit

Museums used to be quiet spaces for thought. Now, they're Instagram's favorite backdrop. You'll see people queuing—not for the art itself—but for that angle, that light, that viral corner. Some don't even know the artist's name.

This isn't about shaming anyone for taking photos. Photos are memories. But when taking a photo becomes the purpose of the visit, something shifts. The artwork becomes a prop, and the museum turns into just another content farm.

There's a big difference between photographing a piece because it moved you—and going to a museum just because you saw it trending.

Are we consuming art, or just using it?

Art is meant to be experienced. To stand in front of it, let it confuse you, challenge you, make you feel something—even if that something is discomfort. But emotional engagement takes time. And time is hard to spare when your goal is a flawless post.

This habit—experience hunting—isn't just about museums. We see it with sunsets, coffee shops, even protests. But with art, the impact feels sharper. When a painting becomes a background and not a subject, it loses power. And the viewer loses the chance for connection.

Why this actually matters

You might wonder: what's the harm? Museums get more foot traffic. Art gets seen. Everyone wins, right?

Not quite. Here's why this shift has consequences:

1. Shallow engagement: Snapping a photo takes two seconds. Understanding a piece might take twenty minutes. One brings likes. The other brings meaning.

2. Crowding and disruption: When galleries are packed with people staging shoots, those who came to reflect quietly often can't. The space becomes performative, not contemplative.

3. Pressure to perform: Not posting about your museum visit almost feels like a missed opportunity. There's a social currency in showing where you've been—even if you didn't really experience it.

4. Art becomes disposable: If the visit is only about the photo, once it's posted, the art is forgotten. It's no longer a lasting impression—it's a trend with an expiration date.

So, what can we do differently?

You don't need to ditch your phone. But here are a few ways to shift the focus back to the art itself:

1. Put the camera away—just for 10 minutes: Stand in front of a piece without your phone. Look at it like you would a person—really look.

2. Choose one piece to sit with: You don't have to see everything. Find one painting or sculpture that grabs you. Spend time with it. Read about it. Let it speak.

3. Take photos after you've felt something: If you connect with a work, take a photo to remember the moment—not to manufacture one.

4. Journal instead of post: Jot down what you saw, what surprised you, what made you pause. This reflection often sticks with you longer than a caption.

5. Respect the space: Be mindful of others. Museums are shared experiences. Give others the chance to see, not just scroll.

Not all moments need proof

There's something freeing about keeping a moment just for yourself. No camera. No audience. Just you and the art.

Art doesn't need our approval. It doesn't need to be aesthetic or viral. It needs to be felt. And that kind of connection doesn't live online—it lives inside you, long after you've left the room.

So next time you walk into a gallery, maybe try this: skip the selfie. Let the art take the spotlight. You might be surprised by what you actually see.