Why Do We Tend to Romanticize Historical Art and Criticize Modern Art?

Recently, I visited JingDeZhen (景德镇), a place more commonly known as China’s porcelain capital. There, the Jingdezhen China Ceramics Museum became the highlight of the trip. It had 7 floors, each showcasing the ceramics found in different time periods, tracing the progression from the Tang Dynasty to modern ceramics.

On the lower floors, it was quite fascinating to see how people in the past were able to create such intricate pieces of art without having access to as many tools or skill sets as we have available now. To be honest though, as soon as we reached the floor of modern porcelain art, I wasn’t as impressed. Yes, the modern artists probably went through a lot more training and had access to advanced equipment. But does that make their pieces any less valuable? At the end of the day, all the pieces there were quite captivating. So why wasn’t I in awe of them like I was with the pieces on the lower floors?

So often we judge others’ work by merely looking at what is presented to us. We fail to account for all the emotions, hardships, and vulnerability that the artist must have poured into the work. It is easier for us to appreciate something that has a long history. We admire paintings or sculptures from the past mostly because we think they are a gateway for us to see the true story of that period. But guess what? There is no way for us to confirm or deny it. In reality, we are seeing a version of the truth filtered through years of scholarship, analysis and interpretations. Our admiration here is often for the narrative about the art rather than the art itself. Therefore, we end up creating our own historical fiction to be able to appreciate it.  

Modern art, on the other hand, seems to be much more susceptible to scrutiny because the creator’s journey is still too present, too human, and too inconvenient to romanticize. With modern art, we cannot rely on a predetermined narrative. We are forced to be active beholders. This exposes the fragility of our own taste, knowledge, and failures. Criticism of art is often a defense mechanism against this exposure.

To put it into a more familiar perspective, isn’t today’s version of art the videos people post on social media, the pictures they take, the work they publicly share? Maybe, art isn’t considered to be fragile solely through its delicate physical nature. It is fragile because it is burdened with the impossible task of holding two incomplete stories, the story of how something came to be and the story of how it is seen. When we admire historical art, we pretend both stories are settled. When we criticize modern art, we are overwhelmed by the fact that neither is.

Perhaps the greatest admiration that we as onlookers can offer is not to confine art into “good” or “bad”, “embarrassing” or “inspirational”, “professional” or “amateur”, rather it is to stand in the gap between the beholder and the creator, acknowledging that both are trying to use art to interpret life as it has presented itself to them. Art might be in the eyes of the beholder, but it doesn’t hurt to consider the artist’s journey towards creating it either.

About the Author



Nitya Menghani is a young Gen Z, who has lived her whole life in Shenzhen, trying to navigate through the twists and turns of a young adult life as an expat in the city. She is an aspiring businesswoman eager to create an impact and is currently pursuing a business management degree. Other than that, she has also freelanced as a social media assistant manager, sales and customer service intern, and AI marketing content creator. Her writing is inspired by the complex thoughts and conversations that stem from the ordinary moments of life. She hopes that by writing them down, she can perhaps help herself and others navigate through them too.

Nitya can be contacted via WeChat on the following QR.