Art critic Kenneth Clark once admitted that he could enjoy a “pure aesthetic sensation” no longer than he could the scent of an orange – less than two minutes. Now picture one of the world’s big art museums, an almost unending succession of aesthetic pleasures. That’s a lot of oranges.
     
It’s little wonder, then, that researchers have been studying “museum fatigue” since the early 20th century. Looking at paintings is pleasurable but it’s also hard physical and cognitive work. Imagine a visitor on a once-in-a-lifetime trip to the Louvre, wanting to “take it all in”. Faced with such abundance, most people act like contestants on the old game show Supermarket Sweep, grabbing as much as they can in what little time they have. A curator at New York’s Metropolitan Museum of Art found that people looked at individual paintings for 17 seconds each on average. Researcher Stephen Bitgood notes that we ruthlessly try to “maximise utility” in museums; people, for instance, won’t walk back to an area that they’ve already seen.

A recent spell touring several artistic treasure houses in Europe had me thinking about how to experience museums in the most engaging and pleasurable way. The first step is to admit that you won’t see anything remotely approaching the full collection – nor should you try. In his book All the Beauty in the World, former museum guard Patrick Bringley notes, “If you think of The Met’s Old Master wing as a village, it has almost 9,000 painted inhabitants.” Why would you think that you could get to know more than the tiniest fraction in a day?

Rather than a one-and-done “bucket-list” experience, museums should be treated like gyms for the mind and body, more than the soul – places that you regularly return to for upkeep. When I lived in Madrid, I would duck into the Museo del Prado (then free to enter) between appointments to look at two or three paintings (often Velázquez’s bewitching masterwork, “Las Meninas”), then return to the outside world, my mind at once activated and stilled.
 
But if you find your attention or spirit flagging, there are games to play. I tend to enter a room and sit. As museum expert Kenneth Hudson once asked, “Don’t we generally take things in better sitting down?” I will glance around the room, choosing one painting that calls to me. Without looking at the wall text, I’ll try to understand as much as I can about it – who painted it, the period, what the title might be. Then I’ll compare my guesswork with the curator’s information. Alternatively, economist Tyler Cowen has another strategy. “When you go through each room, ask yourself which picture you would take home (if you could take just one) and why,” he says. “This forces you to keep thinking critically about what you are seeing.”
 
More important than what to see is what not to see. Rather than grimly trying to absorb everything in a slog of appreciation, allow yourself the freedom to bypass works, even entire collections, until your level of interest has risen. Always leave yourself wanting more orange.
 
Further reading? Click here to read about how the digital world is no substitute for encountering culture in person. Tom Vanderbilt is a frequent Monocle contributor.

Defence contractors sprang into action after Donald Trump announced plans earlier this year to begin building a $175bn (€151bn) missile-defence shield called Golden Dome (writes Rory Jones). In a bid to secure the contract, US aerospace manufacturer Lockheed Martin announced this week that it had been prototyping a command-and-control hub to be offered as a crucial part of the project. 

Inspired by Israel’s land- and sea-based Iron Dome, the US project (as its more premium name suggests) would be designed to combat a larger range of threats through space-based interceptors and hypersonic defences. Despite its proposed 2029 delivery date, further details about the Golden Dome are unknown. The Pentagon has prohibited discussions about it ahead of this week’s Space and Missile Defense Symposium in Huntsville, Alabama. But with such an ambitious turnaround time, the defence shield needs scrutiny sooner rather than later.

Want to build a business that works (asks Laura Kramer)? In the new issue of Monocle: The Entrepreneurs, we gathered 20 lessons from industry leaders at various stages of their journeys. In candid conversations on Monocle Radio, they shared with us their thoughts on what it takes to succeed, from carving out a niche and building a purposeful brand to knowing when to trust your gut or pivot with grace. The ideas span six continents, with sharp insights from founders and CEOs. Here are three to get you started.

1.
Pursue what challenges you
“I didn’t set out to start a beauty brand. Cutting through in such a saturated market is incredibly challenging – it’s a steep hill to climb. But I saw problems that were worth solving and it felt meaningful to me to try. I decided that I wanted to bring new thinking into the industry and make it more sustainable.”
Emma Lewisham
Co-founder and CEO of Emma Lewisham skincare

2.
Take advantage of overlooked market opportunities
“Growing up in Oaxaca, I would find delicious mezcal everywhere. But many people in Mexico City dismissed it as a cheap peasant drink. I never imagined that it would become a global phenomenon but once the big chefs in the capital started talking about it, tourists came and everyone wanted a taste. At the start, I just wanted to keep my grandfather’s recipe alive.”
Yola Jimenez
Founder of Yola Mezcal, an artisanal brand based in Oaxaca, Mexico

3.
Craft a compelling brand story
“We made a website before we even had the product. My background as a photojournalist came in handy because I knew that a purpose-driven story resonates with people. So I wanted to focus on longevity and build a narrative that reflects my connection to Argentina – my homesickness for the country, Buenos Aires and the artisan craftsmanship that you find in Latin America.”
Victoria Aguirre
Co-founder and creative director at Pampa, a rug and homewares brand in Australia with roots in Argentina

Canadian author Jean McNeil reflects on her journey from Cape Breton Island to Antarctica in a conversation that explores grief, climate change and honouring the earth through her latest novel, Latitudes.