Beyond Blanket Judgments: Presence Over Prejudice in Experiencing Art

Last week I wrote about how artificial intelligence can only replace art that doesn’t require the human touch (“AI can only replace boring art“) — the kind of output where there’s no authentic artistic intent or connection. That same idea has been on my mind as I read a recent Financial Times opinion piece where critic Ariane Koek cautions against writing off immersive art, a form that inspires both fervent enthusiasm and dismissive criticism, as nothing more than a flashy “screensaver.”

Koek cautions against writing off immersive art as nothing more than a flashy “screensaver.” She writes:

“The distinction isn’t between immersive and traditional — it’s between work that reveals meaning and work that masks its absence. Some of the most affecting immersive installations I’ve seen were modest in scale. Others, despite vast budgets, left me cold. When artistic intent is present, you can feel it — the work holds your attention, not just your senses.”

This insight points to something arts professionals know in their bones but sometimes forget in practice: art should not be judged wholesale by its format or its venue.

The trap of blanket statements

It’s easy — maybe even comforting — to fall into sweeping statements about what kinds of art matter most. We’ve all heard them, and maybe said them ourselves: immersive exhibitions are shallow; stadium concerts are just about spectacle; basement theaters are where the “real” art happens. These judgments become shorthand in professional conversations. They shape funding priorities, institutional choices, and critical discourse.

But here’s the problem: they aren’t true. Or at least, they aren’t universally true. A massive stadium concert can touch someone’s soul as deeply as a chamber recital – just look at the devotion to Taylor Swift and Beyonce. A scrappy black-box performance can fall flat, even as an exhibition in a major museum can provoke profound reflection. Immersive art can be empty surface — or it can be a doorway to meaning that traditional forms can’t provide in quite the same way.

Intent over form

Koek’s reminder is important: it’s not the medium, the scale, or the budget that makes art worthwhile. It’s the artistic impulse, the intent, the human presence embedded in the work. This is the same reason AI-generated art can feel hollow — when intent is missing, we sense it immediately. What remains is texture without depth, surface without center.

If we train ourselves to pay attention, we can tell when artistic intent is present. It’s the moment when time drops away in a performance, when an installation pulls you into its rhythm, when an image lingers in your mind long after you leave the gallery. The form is secondary. The venue is secondary. What matters is whether the work reveals meaning, or masks its absence.

Why this matters for arts professionals

For those of us working in the arts, rejecting blanket judgments isn’t just about fairness — it’s about responsibility. We help shape the way audiences encounter art. When we dismiss entire categories or venues, we send subtle signals about what is “worthy” and what isn’t. That, in turn, influences how audiences show up, and even who feels welcome in artistic spaces.

We also risk underestimating the potential for new audiences to connect meaningfully with art in ways we might not expect. As Koek notes:

“Culture’s future lies in finding new ways to combine tradition and innovation. Immersive exhibitions are often the start of a journey, not the end. And these days someone’s first meaningful connection with art may well happen in a 360° room rather than in front of a flat canvas.”

For many people, their gateway into art may not look like the one we had. That doesn’t make it less valid. In fact, it makes our work even more urgent: to meet people where they are, to invite them deeper, and to help them recognize the richness of what they’re experiencing.

Choosing presence

The antidote to blanket statements is presence. Instead of deciding in advance what a form, venue, or technology can or cannot do, we can commit to being present to the work itself and the experience it creates. Presence opens us up to be surprised, to be moved in places we didn’t expect, and to appreciate the variety of ways art touches human lives.

This doesn’t mean suspending our critical faculties. Not every immersive show succeeds, and not every stadium performance leaves a lasting mark. But if we begin with presence rather than prejudice, we give ourselves and our audiences the chance to encounter meaning wherever it emerges.

The task for arts professionals is not to rank forms or guard boundaries. It is to nurture attentiveness — to help people notice when art is revealing meaning, and to encourage them to stay with that experience.

Because in the end, what matters is not whether art is immersive, traditional, digital, or analog; whether it takes place in a gallery, a black-box theater, or a stadium. What matters is the spark of human intent — the impulse that makes the work more than decoration, more than distraction. When we stay open to that, we honor the full spectrum of how art can live in people’s lives.