Unless you're a college student, your closest contact with art history is very likely in art museums. But are you genuinely fascinated by a museum visit, or do you feel overwhelmed or as if you're not getting all you could from the experience? Art historian Bernadine Barnes offers some suggestions to help bring art to life, and help you become more engaged and active in your attitudes toward art.

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The building as art
Many museums are works of art in themselves. Take some time to "read" the building: Is it set apart from other buildings around it? Does it make you feel insignificant or welcome? Is it a reused building? A well-known example of adaptive reuse is the Musée d'Orsay in Paris, which was originally a train station. But there are many other examples of adaptive reuse, especially many smaller art museums that were once private residences.

In museums that once had other functions, consider how the art is used to recall or deny the earlier function of the rooms. Ask yourself why works might have been placed where they are: Does natural light from a window correspond to the light within the painting? Does a cramped space force you to look at details in a work?

When architects are commissioned to design a new museum, they make conscious choices regarding the building's style, scale, and the way in which it will fit into its surroundings. During much of the 19th and early 20th centuries, architects most often chose the classical style, with its suggestion of high artistic achievement that has stood the test of time. But a classical temple does not reflect local culture, contemporary attitudes toward art, or even the style of most of the collection inside.

In recent decades architects have turned away from the grand, but sometimes chilly, idealism of classicism to create museums that look industrial, sleek, or playful. The building itself might suggest the challenging and unstable nature of art today. The Guggenheim Museum in Bilbao, Spain, for example, offers viewers a fantastic play of forms that seem to grow or unfold in an uncontrolled way.

Be selective in your looking
One of the most exhausting forms of exercise I can think of is walking slowly through an art museum, stopping every ten feet or so to stare at an object hanging on a wall. Your heart rate drops, and your brain waves probably do, too. There's nothing wrong with scanning a museum's collection and then zeroing in on a few rooms, themes, or works that really interest you.

Consider the groupings
No matter what area of the museum you choose, ask yourself why the objects are grouped the way they are. Very often they are grouped by historical style, and comparing the works will allow you to discover what the characteristics of that style are. Do most of the works share a sharply drawn edge (as in Jan van Eyck's* Man in a Red Turban), or are they sketchy or hazy (John Singer Sargent's* Madame Gautreau)? Do the shapes swirl around some point (Jacopo da Pontormo's* Deposition), or is everything orderly and still (Dirk Bouts's* Lamentation of Christ)? Do you seem to see some imaginary world (Très Riches Heures*) beyond the surface of the painting, or is everything on the surface (Rogier van der Weyden's* Descent from the Cross)?

You may find that some works combine styles (as in Robert Rauschenberg's Estate). If that's the case think about why the artist made that choice--was it a way of paying homage to another artist, a way to define certain areas of the painting, or just a way to shake up the viewer?

Compare and contrast
If you choose to focus on the work of a particular artist, try to choose one who is not too well known to you, or compare something you know and like with works that are less familiar. For example, let's say you're in the Louvre, and you (like everyone else) want to see the Mona Lisa. After you've waited your turn to see this icon, step back and look around. Is another portrait in sight, or another painting with a landscape in the background?

Play the game of compare and contrast--the results may surprise you. In the case of the Mona Lisa, you will very likely discover how truly odd this painting is. You'll probably find that whatever other painting you select, it will be more colorful, more sharply focused, and more detailed. If it's another portrait of a woman, you will probably find that she is more beautiful, has nicer clothes, and has better jewelry than Mona Lisa.

If you've found a landscape, you're likely to decide that the other painting looks more "real"--maybe it has a town, a nice play of light, or more trees. You may even end up liking lots of other paintings more than Leonardo da Vinci's masterpiece, but in the process you'll also discover for yourself why Leonardo's work is so interesting.

Take a child along
One way to broaden your perspective is to take a child to an art museum. Have her pick out what she likes, and ask her why. If the child is young, you may find yourself going through a whole museum in search of dogs or interesting buttons, but you will almost certainly look at works you might not have noticed, and details you didn't know were there. For example, if your young friend is on the lookout for dogs, you might consider what type of dog the artist has chosen, and what role it has in the painting. Is it a tiny, fluffy thing being softly caressed by an attractive lady (as in Sir Joshua Reynolds's* Nelly O'Brien); or is it a huge hunting dog, who is controlled effortlessly by an obviously powerful man?

Note changes in themes and styles
No matter who chooses the theme you look for, you'll probably discover intriguing differences in style, context, or even how you feel as you're looking at the paintings. Art historians look to various phenomena in the culture to explain these changes, and if you are familiar with the literature, religion, or political history of the time, you might do the same. But even if you're only speculating about why styles or themes change, focusing your attention and approaching the collection with a question in mind will turn your visit into a richer learning experience.

Get physical, but don't touch
Don't forget that the work of art is a physical object. Get close--look at the brush strokes (as in Vincent van Gogh's Crows in the Wheatfields) or chisel marks (Michelangelo's Tomb of Lorenzo de' Medici). Think about the process that the artist had to use to make this work. Can you see evidence of layers of paint? Has the paint been built up in areas (a technique called impasto)? Does the artist leave the work unfinished (Michelangelo's Divine Head)? Think about all the choices the artist made with every stroke.

Pretend the depicted scene is real. How do you fit in? Are the figures in the painting gesturing at you, the viewer, or have they made room in their group for you? Many paintings made during the Renaissance or Baroque periods, for example, use some sort of device to make the viewer feel part of the scene. It may be convincing perspective (as in Raphael's The School of Athens), a riveting gaze (Titian's Venus of Urbino), or a figure who seems to lean out of the painting into our space (Caravaggio's* Conversion of Saint Paul).

If you're not shy, you might also try imitating the poses of some of the figures, or making a sketch of the work. These are good ways of really understanding how much "art" is in any piece you look at--how carefully the artist has lined up forms (as in Paolo Uccello's* The Battle of San Romano), put a little more twist in a pose (Donatello's David), or even presented a figure in such a way that it could not balance for long (Gianlorenzo Bernini's* David).

Look at the Labels Last
Labels and museum catalogs are wonderful sources of information, but they should add to your experience of the art, not substitute for it. Take the time to look and ask your own questions first. If you do, the information will make more sense. And your art museum just might become a place of discovery and wonder.