Last week I went to MoMA. Since I came to New York I got more
 “culture” than ever before. It isn’t that Los Angeles had no great
 museums, but something about New York—or perhaps the fantasies of the
 city that I had—spurred me to go to museums much more. The exhibition I
 went to was Abstract Expressionist New York, which I was particularly 
excited about: New York art, shown in New York.

In other words, it is a
 bit like listening to the Red Hot Chili Peppers in California, only far
 more highbrow.

 As my partner and I were walking around, we were trying to make sense of
 the paintings, to decide if we like De Kooning and Motherwell, to “get a
 feel” for this kind of art. Though we both come from middle-class
 families, neither of us feels really comfortable around modern art, say, 
after early Expressionism or Cubism.

It isn’t that we don’t like it,
 it’s just that we don’t feel like we know how to evaluate it. It 
isn’t that we aren’t moved, it is almost as if we don’t know how to
 be moved. It is a strange sensation, looking at a painting and trying
 hard to be moved. Being moved, after all, shouldn’t involve trying.
 That’s the whole idea with emotion.

In fact, we do learn to be moved. More precisely, we learn ways to open 
ourselves to the possibility of being moved. Through the process known in sociology as “socialization,” we learn the knowledge, skills and preferences that will shape the choices we make, the direction we take.

This isn’t only a nice 
sociological idea, but something that we found out first hand when we were leaving
 the exhibition. At the entry to the exhibition, we saw a little work
sheet titled “Family Activity Guide.” On the side, to make sure we knew 
who it was intended to, it read “MoMA KIDS.”

In sleek paper, it had
 quotes from the artists and activities for children.  On the first page, 
there were quotes by Jackson Pollock. Kids had to look at one of the 
paintings, and see where the paint is “Dripped, Splashed, Poured,
 Splattered, Flung, and Layered.” Next came a page dedicated to sculptor 
David Smith. Here children were asked to draw an animal (there was a 
blank space for that purpose) and then re-draw it “using just five
 lines.”

But the one that really got to me was the page dedicated to Mark Rothko. 
Kids were instructed to look at the paintings, and at the big floating
 rectangles (explained in the booklet as “color fields.” Useful, that). Then, they 
were asked to choose a painting, and told to “take turns sharing words 
you think of while you are looking at it.” Below, they had a quote by
 Rothko: “I’m interested in expressing basic human emotions.”

The fourth sheet was detachable, with perforations made so you can tear
 it into 12 blank cards. The Rothko activity was to take the 12 cards,
and write “words that come to mind” as the kids are looking at the
 painting. Having written the words, children were told to scramble them,
 and voila, abstract-expressionist poetry was made.

Having done so, kids
 were suggested to look at a different Rothko painting, try to figure out
 the mood it conveys, and write another expressionist poem (on the back
side of the cards they just used).

 Sitting in the MoMA café, we were puzzling over what it felt like to be
 a kid working on this activity sheet. Looking through it children
 obviously learned several things. They learned how to name elements of modern art—color fields, for example.

They were also told what aspects of
 the paintings they should pay attention to—how the paint was being 
splattered, and later (in a page dedicated to De Kooning) how the 
painter moved as he painted. In an elegant way, they learned what was of
 essence.  It didn’t make them art experts, of course, but it made them 
conversant with the painting, a way to relate to them that my partner 
and I didn’t really have.

But this exercise provided more than instruction. Especially in the Rothko page, but in others 
as well, it taught children how they could feel. It taught them that when they looked at the pictures, they should have basic moods conveyed to them. More, 
that they should let themselves be swept up by these moods, to lose 
themselves in basic emotions. Sociologists often note that people learn
 to like different things, that this is part of being “socialized.”

Upper
middle-class children learn about abstract expressionism, working-class
 children don’t. This is part of how classes are differentiated.  As the 
activity sheet at the MoMA makes clear, it goes deeper than knowledge and skills.

It’s 
not only that children learn different things, it is that they also 
learn to enjoy them. They learn to enjoy them, by learning what kind of 
attitude they could take when looking at a painting, when sitting in a
 baseball stadium, when ordering sushi. They learn not only what to look 
for, but how they can derive pleasure—real pleasure—from it.