What Makes Great Art?
Experiencing different artistic mediums has a wonderful stretching effect on the imagination.
Over time, I’ve been gradually expanding my understanding of what makes great art. A few days ago, I was invited to the Dior Men’s Summer 2026 show in Paris, where I had the opportunity to visit La Galerie Dior, the gallery and archival space showcasing the legacy of the iconic fashion house.
Wandering through the various spaces at La Galerie and witnessing the development of the garments, I added a new element to my definition of great art – its relationship with time.
Before I get into this, here are a couple of other definitions:
Great art compels action; it encourages the viewer to reach out and touch. This is often true for strange or impossibly well-crafted sculptures. The veins of Michelangelo’s David appear soft enough to press, or an ornament with an unusual texture. There's something incredible in the idea that an inanimate object can compel the action of an organic being.
Secondly, I believe that great art induces a loss of self. The artist creates a unique pocket in the universe, so enchanting that the viewer is momentarily immersed; the artificial psychological constructs of being separate from the world fall away as the observer drops into the oblivion of the story or image realm. This is the effect induced by my favourite books: Camus’ The Plague, John Williams’ Stoner, or Yann Martel’s Life of Pi.
Thirdly, I think size is an important component. In his journals, French poet Baudelaire described the importance of this. Dimension adds magnificence to a piece, making it more impressive and enhancing its beauty.
Finally, the most recent element to add to my definition emerged during my visit to La Galerie Dior. As the curator explained the evolution of the couture house with a captivating love for the man, the myth, and the maison, it dawned on me that great art is also measured through its relationship with time and eternity.
Many of Dior's earliest designs have retained their impact and innovativeness. As the curator highlighted, the dresses could, and indeed would, still be worn today, were they not priceless.
This ability to transcend time, the strength of the relationship between the piece and the eternal, is a hallmark of great art. It's a delicate instance when the creation of a mortal somehow touches eternity, puncturing through the mind’s construction of time, much like Adam extending those extra couple of centimetres in Michelangelo's The Creation of Adam to touch God.
As Jean Cocteau, a notable French poet, playwright, and filmmaker, once said:
« Dior, ce génie léger propre à son temps dont le nom magique comporte Dieu et or. »
(Dior, that delicate genius unique to his time, whose magical name contains God and gold.)
I enjoyed that very much, this was an enriching description , thank you!
Absolutely beautiful. Thank you for this. Recently, in conversations with some of my wildly talented artist friends, I’ve noticed a sense that while we have this deep unshakeable need to create and that what we do or express is necessary, it also feels so very devalued and unimportant in the world where capitalism is king. Almost superfluous rather than vital. Of course, we can’t help but keep going and lean on one another to push past discouragement. Reading this just reminded me, yet again, of the why. Why I relish art. Why I make music. Why I love fashion.
I didn’t mean to wax poetic, but thank you for the reminder of why it matters. ♥️