Elaine Ritchel began her art education at the age of five. It all started when her preschool teacher taught the class to identify painters by their signature styles. Elaine learned to look at art as a puzzle, using clues and finding keys to unlock a deeper meaning. Now an art educator with a master’s degree in Art History, Elaine’s work still draws on this early lesson. Rather than teaching people what to see, she teaches them how to look. She believes it's a powerful pathway to visual literacy.

In the US and abroad, Elaine has worked as an art gallery teacher and art museum educator. A self-proclaimed nerd, she's also been a cookie baker, translator, and travel writer. After a three-year stint in Croatia, where she worked at the Museum of Contemporary Art in Zagreb, Elaine settled in Santa Fe, New Mexico. And this year, she's leading two immersive Atlas Obscura art trips: Santa Fe: Immersive Art and Otherworldly Landscapes and Croatia: Coastal Palaces and Cutting-Edge Art.

Known for her holistic approach, Elaine knows how to lead a guided experience. She helps travelers develop deeper, personal relationships with art. And she can make a mean chocolate chip cookie, too.

How do you begin teaching a person to look at art?

I always begin with an invitation. Studies have found that, on average, people look at a work of art for about 15-30 seconds. It’s the way a lot of us do museums and galleries. We meander through, pause to look a little longer if something interests us, and then we keep going. There’s pressure to see everything. So, the first thing I do is create an opportunity for a longer look and invite the group to share whatever comes to mind. 

There are a few different prompts that I use to help people look more deeply. My favorite is a four-step method for artistic interpretation. It’s great because it’s simple and easy to apply to any work of art. It leads the viewer through the formal aspects of a work of art—things like shape, line, color, and texture—as well as composition. After discussing these details, we talk about the conceptual layers of the piece. What does it mean, why does it exist, what does it say? I love this part of the conversation because people start to connect with the artwork.

If someone has previously studied art, how does your technique differ? 

My vocabulary and the content of our discussion might change a bit. For example, I'll make more historical references for someone who has studied art. But I tend to use the same technique with everyone. What I’ve found is that even those who have previously studied art haven’t necessarily engaged with it in this way. 

As a student of art history, I knew how to do a formal analysis. I knew how to look and interpret what I saw. But I didn’t have a framework for it. I was never invited to look at one work of art in depth and contemplate it an open-ended way with others. I’ve heard from other art lovers and artists that they, too, were never invited to engage with art this way. And many of them have found it useful to their practice of looking or making.

My approach encourages personal connections with art through contemplation and conversation. It’s a practice in mindfulness, in critical thought, and in honoring many perspectives. It’s also a lot of fun. It’s fascinating to hear what others see in a work of art. There’s a lot of power in making meaning within a social or group setting.

What’s unique about Santa Fe and its art scene?

I love how diverse Santa Fe’s art scene is—and how dense it is! There are more than 200 galleries in downtown Santa Fe. Within a few blocks, you can see it all. There's cutting-edge new media art, historical Western paintings, and lithographs by European modernists. And there's Navajo textiles, contemporary Pueblo pottery, and Spanish colonial carvings. It's pretty incredible.

I love Santa Fe for so many reasons. It’s small, and yet there’s never a shortage of great art to see or delicious food to eat. My community here is incredibly supportive and collaborative. The land is magnetic, the sky is freeing, and the weather is incredible. Even winter is enjoyable. During the colder months, everyone burns piñon in kiva fireplaces. It perfumes the entire town with its distinctive fragrance. It's very specific and difficult to describe, but it’s like a sweet, clean, earthy incense.

How does the Santa Fe art scene compare to the art scene in Croatia?

Both Zagreb and Santa Fe have very lively art scenes with a wealth of museums. One of the many things I love about Zagreb is how walkable the city center is. You can hit several museums on one stroll. Santa Fe is similar in that way. Croatia, though, doesn’t have an art market, while Santa Fe is the third-largest art market in the US. That’s a significant difference. 

There’s something about Zagreb and the art scene there that feels weighty and sincere. There isn’t really any commercial artwork in Zagreb because there’s no one to buy it. Artists create work that is truly personally meaningful or interesting to them. In other words, they aren’t primarily making artwork to sell—they create work because it needed to be made. 

Santa Fe’s art scene has a commercial veneer. There are impressive galleries and cozy studios. Collectors come for festivals, and artsy locals rub elbows at openings and talks.

That said, there is a strong DIY ethos, and an undercurrent of discontent, in both cities. In Zagreb, you see it in street art, pop-up openings, and art events in abandoned spaces. In Santa Fe, artist collectives band together to carve out their place in the commercial art landscape.

In spite of the differences, there are similarities between New Mexico and Croatia. They have complex histories and insist on a slower pace of life. And they’re both atmospheric, visually-striking, and rich in sensory experiences.

You’re leading our first trip to Croatia and we’re particularly thrilled about the stop at the Meštrović Gallery. You wrote your master’s thesis on this legendary, enigmatic painter. What does he mean to you? 

When I think of Meštrović, I think: calm, warm, epic, spiritual. In all of his work, there’s a sense of life force that’s compelling. 

I remember visiting the Meštrović Atelier in Zagreb and being impressed by his work. But it wasn’t until I found out that he had lived the end of his life in Indiana—where I spent my childhood—that I became especially intrigued by him. Critics throughout Europe and even in the US celebrated Meštrović for most of his life. And yet, somewhere along the line, he had all but disappeared from the canon of art history. I’d never heard of him before I visited Croatia.

This was puzzling to me. He was an artist likened to Michaelangelo. Rodin dubbed him “the greatest phenomenon among sculptors.” How could he disappear into the abyss of history? 

I was also intrigued by the work he produced during the early part of the 20th century. His strong sense of line and form reminded me of icon art or Assyrian sculpture. And yet it also felt undeniably modern, with a Secessionist or early art deco bent. He spent time with Rodin, and you can see Rodin’s influence in his work, but he was doing something different. Explaining this style became the subject of my thesis research.

Finally, I love that you were a chocolate chip cookie baker. As a lover of food, what would you eat for your last meal ever?

Yes! It wasn’t an official title, but I did bake cookies for a local Zagreb cafe. It was a somewhat hush-hush gig at the time, but my cookies earned a reputation as being among the best in the city. Everyone thought it was a secret family recipe passed down for generations. It was the Nestle Tollhouse Cookie recipe. Classic. 

As for my last meal, I can’t believe I’m about to say this, but pizza. There’s a particular pizza called the bianca at Farina, a restaurant in Albuquerque. It’s the perfect combination of flavors: ricotta cheese, artichoke, sage, and truffle oil. I’d probably go for a glass of grk, which is a rare white produced on the island of Korčula in Croatia. The grapes grow in sandy soil near the sea, and the refreshing wine they produce has a very distinctive flavor. Think mineral notes and hints of sea salt and Mediterranean herbs. 

For dessert, the butterscotch budino at Farina is pretty perfect, too. Now that I think about it, this is my go-to special occasion meal, minus the grk, which is not easy to find. So the grk is my last-meal splurge! I suppose I’d also have to finish off the meal with a sip of orahovac. It's a rakija, the Croatian version of brandy or schnapps made from walnuts. It’s my favorite and a perfect end to any meal.