The Attraction of Ambiguity by Ebie Quinn

            The Gardner Museum achieves it’s greatness by being both perplexing and thought provoking. In 1903, Isabella Stewart Gardner, turned her house and large art collection into a museum for the public to enjoy. She required that all of her pieces remain in the exact same place, allowing no modernizations to be made. Personally, I do not have extensive historic or religious knowledge, and in looking at a painting I couldn’t tell you the story behind it. I don’t even have the means to fabricate a fake one. That being said, the museum was just as entertaining for me as it might be for a historian or an art expert. The entertainment for me stems from a different place then it might stem for someone else, and that is the beauty of this museum. The sheer amount of material allows for many different opinions and joys.

In particular, I connected with a book shelf being featured in a hallway. The piece was understated, which spoke to me. There were many paintings and tapestries filled with grandeur to appreciate, but the bookshelf could easily be overlooked. More than anything, this bookshelf confused me. It was a beautiful brown, and it seemed to be varnished. Inside there were many different books with titles like, “Renaissance in Italy,” and “The Louvre.” Each book had a price tag hanging off of it. The bottom of the bookshelf was engraved with two scenes. The first appeared to be a King standing by himself, and the second was the same king, but now with a girl weeping at his feet. The scenes were detailed and each had an intricate background. I was immediately drawn to the piece, not only because I connected emotionally, but because it was so bewildering to me. It was so different from all of the other pieces of art. It wasn’t depicting arbitrary monarchs that I might know but probably wouldn’t, it wasn’t flashy, and it certainly wasn’t boring. I found myself captivated by this bookshelf. Gardner was known for her intentionality and I began pondering what her intent was with this. Why were there price tags on the books? Were they ever really being sold, or were they just a part of the piece? These questions probably have factual answers, but I didn’t discover any of them.

This experience with the bookshelf was reflective of the rest of the museum for me. Yes, there were answers, and stories, and reasoning that someone visiting could appreciate. But for me, each piece of art was ambiguous, allowing me to connect in whichever way I felt regardless of the intention. I relished in my own confusion. Whether you are a historian who takes pride in their knowledge of facts, or like me, a teenager who appreciates not knowing everything all the time, you will enjoy a visit to the Isabella Gardner Museum.