Last week I attended another of the Mulvane Art Museum's Conversations. We were there to discuss the work of Georges Rouault, French Expressionist (think distorting reality for emotional effect) painter and printmaker.

After about an hour discussing art and early 20th-century European history, one of the guests expressed dislike for Rouault's work. "I know these prints are famous and Rouault's a master, but I find this stuff kinda ugly and unattractive." Having said that she added, "So, how can you tell when something is good?" Great question. Here are some of the ways the fifteen of us attempted to define the elusive.

Important art endures. It resurfaces with each generation just as powerfully as it did in its heyday. Viewers of any era will find something relative within it. The art reveals a universal, ageless human experience.

Technical skill (command of materiels, drawing ability) is only one of many tools used to evaluate a work's excellence. Artists will intentionally deconstruct and experiment with established boundaries, and that might include replacing the pencil and paintbrush with a welding torch or a tempera paint enema. Good art is never evaluated based solely on technique, and if the artist discovers a new tool or technique, it is necessary to create new criteria to evaluate the new technique.

Good art embodies a range of aesthetic choices from chaotic to sublime, ojective (you can tell what the objects are) to abstract (little to no recognition of objects due to intentional distortion). Basically some of the best art in the world is the opposite of "beautiful" while some of the worst art in the world is picture-perfect. It is a mistake to determine an artwork's "goodness" based on ideals of beauty alone.

Educate yourself about a work. In terms of visual arts, we've been pressured since the establishment of the French Academy in the early 19th-century to limit "good" art to art that is "beautiful", i.e.  geometrically balanced and the embodiment of Classical ideals of proportion and representation. For some artists, these are the variables guiding their creations. For others, these are not. Remember, the Impressionists were considered deplorable by the French Academy. They were radicals in their time and excluded from exhibitions as pariahs of the art world. A good rule of thumb: there is almost always something bigger going on than meets the aesthetic-seeking eye.

Below are some of the things I think about when looking at art that I don't immediately understand or like so that I might at least respect it:

For new work:

• Do I like/hate this piece?
• I don't get it—why is this in a museum?
• Where's the artist's statement and where can I get a copy?
• Who is the artist? What are his/her influences?
• What else have they done? Where can I see it?
• Maybe I should revisit this again after doing some research.
• Is there an interview online, in a magazine, in a podcast, a video?
• What do other artists think of this work?
• What sort of reviews have been written and where can I find them?
• Is there a biography available?

For the Masters:

• I know this is in the art history canon, but why?
• Why is this so important to study?
• What was it that this artist did that "broke a window"?
• What's their background?
• How is this work innovative?
• Why is this artist considered a master when his/her contemporaries hated the work?
• What contributions did this artist make philosophically, conceptually and socially?
• What sort of world did this artist live in?
• What were this artist's influences?
• With whom did this artist study?
• Who were his/her students and what became of their careers?
• In what historical context was this work conceived and made?

THEN, when I'm completely worn out trying to figure things out, I'll spend time at this museum looking for stuff that could pass for an Old Master.