You’ve Probably Seen

Matisse Before. But Do You Know Him?

By Antonina Padlewska | Culture | November 11, 2026

Cover Illustration: Henri Matisse’s Grand Intérieur rouge (1948), 15 October 2026. Yasmin Kardzhalieva/The Amsterdammer

Today, art is only a scroll or a search away. But how do we turn a fleeting glimpse into a lasting impression? Inspired by the H’ART Museum’s Matisse exhibition, Reporter Yasmin Kardzhalieva reflects on the online culture of aestheticization and the value of following through beyond the screen. 

Henri Matisse began painting in the 1890s, yet his work still feels uncannily current, with colors and forms that seem made for the fast, visual world of TikTok and Pinterest. His distinctive artistic identity now appears on posters pinned above beds, in carefully curated apartment photos, on tote bags, in “French girl” Pinterest mood boards and in reels about exhibitions worth visiting. Even if you do not know much about Matisse, there is a good chance you know what “Matisse” looks like. 

 That was partly true for me too. Before visiting Chez Matisse – Masterpieces from Centre Pompidou at the H’ART Museum, I had already encountered his work on Pinterest and TikTok. Social media was actually one of the reasons I wanted to see the exhibition. So when I entered the museum, I was curious to see whether Matisse’s popularity on social media would be reflected in the age of the visitors around me. During my visit, however, I noticed that the audience appeared to consist largely of older visitors, with relatively few people my age. While this was only a snapshot of the exhibition’s audience, it raised an interesting question about the relationship between art’s visibility online and engagement with it in physical museum spaces. Does the popularity of an artist’s aesthetic on platforms like TikTok and Pinterest, both especially popular among Gen Z/Millenials, necessarily translate into younger audiences visiting exhibitions? It made me think about the strange relationship we now have with art online: we can know an artist’s aesthetic without really knowing the artist at all. 
Chez Matisse exhibition view, 15 October 2026. Yasmin Kardzhalieva/The Amsterdammer

Then there is the increasingly familiar “museum aesthetic.” We have all seen the pictures: someone standing with their back to the camera in front of a huge painting, a carefully curated outfit, minimalist museum architecture, perhaps followed by a coffee and a bookshop visit. On Instagram and Pinterest, museums themselves can become part of a lifestyle aesthetic. This does not mean that visitors should be criticized for participating in this trend, as sharing museum experiences has become a common part of engaging with art. There is something revealing, though, about how quickly the experience of looking at art can become intertwined with the desire to document ourselves looking at it, and perhaps even to seek a certain kind of validation through how cultured, tasteful or aesthetically aware we appear online. It would be hypocritical for me to dismiss it when social media helped bring me to Matisse in the first place. The tension between recognizing an artist as an aesthetic and understanding their place in art history is exactly what the exhibition begins to complicate.

That question feels particularly relevant with Matisse, one of the great pioneers of modern art. The current H’ART exhibition brings together more than eighty works from the Centre Pompidou collection and places Matisse alongside contemporaries and later artists including Picasso, Sonia Delaunay, Mark Rothko and Barnett Newman. In doing so, it shows how his experiments with color, form and composition influenced artists across the twentieth-century and became part of a much broader modern artistic language. 

“La Danse” by Matisse at the Metropolitan Museum of Art, 2023. Kevin Snow / Unsplash

What makes him unique to me is how immediate his work feels. You do not need to understand art history before responding to it. His colors are emotional before they are intellectual. His compositions can be experimental without feeling inaccessible. The forms often look deceptively simple, but there is something incredibly deliberate underneath that simplicity. 

I understood this most clearly when I stood in front of Grand Intérieur Rouge. Painted in 1948, the work depicts an interior almost completely overtaken by red. A table stretches across the room, covered with flowers, fruit and decorative objects. Chairs, plants and framed pictures compete for attention. Perspective seems to flatten out, making it difficult to decide where the wall stops and the furniture begins. Everything appears to exist on the same vibrant surface. And yet, it did not feel chaotic to me. It felt intimate. On my phone, I might have looked at the painting for a few seconds and thought that the colors were beautiful. In person, I found it difficult to walk away from. The red was far more intense than I expected. The room seemed warm, crowded and alive, as though every object had been given equal importance. 

Henri Matisse’s Intérieur, bocal de poissons rouges (1914), showing a goldfish bowl beside a window overlooking Paris, 15 October 2026. Yasmin Kardzhalieva/The Amsterdammer
Henri Matisse’s Intérieur, bocal de poissons rouges (1914), showing a goldfish bowl beside a window overlooking Paris, 15 October 2026. Yasmin Kardzhalieva/The Amsterdammer
2026. Linh Quach / Unsplash

That experience was exactly what a Pinterest image could not give me. Matisse painted Grand Intérieur Rouge in the spring of 1948 at Villa Le Rêve in Vence, in the south of France, during the final phase of his career. The exhibition itself traces this movement towards an increasingly free and decorative visual language in his later work. Standing in front of it made me realise how easily social media can flatten an artwork twice: literally onto a screen and figuratively into an aesthetic. Pinterest is exceptionally good at doing this. A painting becomes a color palette. A sculpture becomes interior-design inspiration. An artist becomes a “vibe.” On TikTok, an entire exhibition can be reduced to a fifteen-second montage with music playing over it. 

 

“Standing in front of it made me realise how easily social media can flatten an artwork twice: literally onto a screen and figuratively into an aesthetic.”

TikTok and Pinterest can make art feel accessible to people who might otherwise think museums are intimidating, academic or simply “not for them”. An attractive video might be someone’s first introduction to a painter who lived more than a century ago. There is something exciting about that. Cultural influence does not suddenly become meaningless because it reaches us through an algorithm. 

The problem is when our curiosity stops at the algorithm. The H’ART exhibition makes clear that Matisse himself did not exist in a cultural vacuum. It places his work in dialogue with the artists who surrounded him, influenced him and later responded to him. Its design even uses the window, a recurring motif in Matisse’s paintings, to create visual connections between rooms and artworks. His art becomes part of a larger conversation rather than a collection of isolated, aesthetically pleasing images. That context matters.

When art is separated completely from the person, place and history that produced it, influence can become almost invisible. We reproduce the colors, the shapes and the “look” without necessarily knowing what we are referencing.

At the same time, perhaps this is not evidence that social media is destroying art. Maybe it shows that aestheticization can be a first step towards understanding it. The question is whether we take the second step. 

If you discover Matisse because one of his paintings matches your Pinterest board, that is still a discovery. If TikTok makes you curious about an exhibition, that curiosity is real. But instead of allowing the image to disappear into another folder of saved posts, why not go and stand in front of it? Chez Matisse is especially worth doing that for. It is only the third major Matisse retrospective ever presented in the Netherlands and runs at the H’ART Museum in Amsterdam until February 14, 2027.

Go because you saw it on TikTok. Go because the colors look good. Go because you want the museum picture. But once you are there, look beyond the picture. 

For me, Grand Intérieur Rouge proved that recognizing an artwork is not the same as experiencing it. Perhaps the problem is not that art has become an aesthetic. It is when we decide the aesthetic is enough.

Antonina Padlewska is a university student in Amsterdam. The views expressed here are not necessarily those of The Amsterdammer. 

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