There’s no nice way to put it: in medieval art, babies were pretty damn ugly.
But why?
It’s not because artists hadn’t worked out how to paint them properly – in fact, this was a deliberate stylistic choice… In medieval artwork, one baby popped up a whole lot more than the others: Jesus Christ.
There was a popular notion that Jesus was born “perfectly formed” and remained “unchanged” over time; this led to artists depicting him as a sort of weird little old man – and influenced portrayals of other babies too!
This all changed with the dawn of the Renaissance, and a new emphasis on realism in art.
Plus, as artists began to embrace non-religious subjects, wealthy patrons could commission portraits of their own families – and they didn’t want their own children looking like little old men!
So, ugly babies were out and cute babies were in. Way less disturbing, but nowhere near as fun…
Skip the awkward small talk over overpriced cocktails. Here's why a museum is your secret weapon for a memorable first date:
Side-by-side walking eliminates the awkward face-to-face restaurant staredown. This positioning creates a more relaxed atmosphere where conversation can develop organically as you move through the space.
Strolling through art and history shows you're cultured—without trying too hard. You don't need to be an expert; showing interest in something beyond Netflix and takeout speaks volumes about your curiosity and depth.
When words fail, point at any bizarre Renaissance baby and ask "Why does that infant have an eight-pack?" Instant ice-breaker. Art provides endless topics to discuss, from the sublime to the ridiculous, making those initial getting-to-know-you moments flow naturally.
Cheaper than dinner and drinks, and definitely fancier than a coffee shop. Many museums have "pay what you wish" options or free admission days. You get all the sophistication without emptying your wallet.
When you're done, you have a natural end to the date—or an easy excuse to keep going elsewhere if things are clicking. "I'm getting hungry after all that art appreciation. Want to grab a bite?" is a smooth transition if the chemistry is right.
Download MuseMuse first. Because nothing kills the mood like pretending to understand medieval tapestries.
In 1642, Captain Frans Banning Cocq commissioned Rembrandt to paint his civic guard company. Eighteen militiamen paid to be included, expecting equal prominence in a traditional group portrait. Instead, Rembrandt created a dynamic action scene with dramatic lighting that highlighted some figures while obscuring others in shadow.
The men in the shadows weren't pleased. They'd paid the same fee (roughly 100 guilders each, about $2,000 today) but appeared as mere background characters. Some were so dark you could barely make-out their faces. This wasn't just bad positioning: it was a social insult in 17th-century Amsterdam.
The painting's strangest element is a small girl in a golden dress, illuminated by mysterious light, wearing a dead chicken at her belt (a symbol of the civic guard). No one paid for her inclusion. Who is she? Art historians have debated for centuries. Some believe she's Rembrandt's deceased wife Saskia, who died that same year, inserted as a ghostly presence.
Recent analysis suggests the painting may reference a real scandal. The chicken claws on the girl's belt form a symbol that in 17th-century Amsterdam was code language used by members of a particular civic guard faction. The way certain figures' hands are positioned may indicate secret society signs. Was Rembrandt documenting internal power struggles and betrayals within the guard?
After the painting was delivered, Rembrandt's career mysteriously declined. He never received another major commission from Amsterdam's elite. Coincidence?
If so, you might have experienced something called ‘museum fatigue’. This phenomenon can affect even the most enthusiastic culture buff, and refers to a sense of feeling increasingly overwhelmed and exhausted as you mooch around a museum or gallery.
The term ‘museum fatigue’ was first coined by Benjamin Ives Gilman in 1916. He focused on how the placement of exhibits led to unnecessary physical strain, causing us to tire ourselves out. But since then, researchers have also come to recognise the mental toll of a museum visit. This stems from a number of factors, including:
Information overload – where the sheer amount of information in a museum gets a bit much. This includes lengthy gallery labels and descriptions, as well as the exhibits themselves!
Object competition – when different exhibits in the same space battle it out for our attention. This prevents us from focusing properly on a single piece and erodes our overall engagement with a museum.
And last but not least, satiation – where we take in a number of similar pieces in a row, causing us to become progressively less interested. (One ancient Greek statue? Fantastic. One hundred? OK, now you’ve lost me.)
Together, these elements can contribute to an acute case of cultural burnout – and more than 100 years on from Benjamin Gilman, museum fatigue doesn’t look like going away.
So, it’s clear that something has to change; that we need a whole new way of approaching museums, and the amazing things in them. Because if we’re getting tired of Da Vinci and Van Gogh – of the Rosetta Stone and the Venus de Milo – then something has gone seriously, seriously wrong!
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