Some time ago, I was having a conversation with an art historian about the development of cannons. I was interested in talking to him because I had studied how certain archaeological and anthropological objects became rather expected in museums across the western world. Why does every museum need an ancient Egyptian mummy, or a totem pole from the Pacific Northwest, I asked. I had sought out the art historian for a fresh perspective. The clear difference between museums that cover general history and museums covering the history of art is a much more explicit outline in what is and what is not scholastically recognized in the form of art canons. What was fascinating to me about the conversation was how casually the scholar discussed the need for art historians to come together to oversee the development of new canons, or groups of art and artists that are considered seminal.

At the time, the art historian and I talked some about populist art and the relationship between popularity and scholarly importance. What comes first, I wondered, Picasso's popularity or his scholarly recognition? Most everyone who has studied art history or has even been to an art museum knows the almost mythological story of how Van Gogh made little or no impact on the art world during his lifetime, it was only after he died that he began to grow into an icon. Yet this is not the case with all artists. Andy Warhol was certainly much talked about in his lifetime, and he is still talked about today. So who decides this and when?

The art historian brought up popular artists like Norman Rockwell. Rockwell might not be considered the best technical artist, but an art historian would be hard pressed to deny his importance in American social history. Today, art museums often approach this problem by constructing traveling or special exhibitions covering these types of artists. While art museums might be able to create temporary exhibits based on more populist art, a curator of an art museum may have more trouble arguing that a collection of Rockwell’s, for example, belongs in their permanent collection.

Recently, David Galenson, an economist, stirred up some controversy by declaring Picasso the most influential artist of the 20th century. His methodology? He counted the number of reproductions in art history textbooks. When the tallying was over Picasso had more illustrations of his work in the texts than the next few artists combined. If the methodology for this research project sounds simple, that is because it is simple. Sources that covered the story, includingSlate, argued that if art historians were upset about the fact that an economist was barging in on their turf it may have been partially because they were upset that they did not think of the exercise themselves. Nevertheless, the exercise brings up an important question: Does the fact that a piece of art appears in a book make it influential? Would the same type of methodology work in an analogous study in history text books? Can one rank the importance of individuals or events simply by counting the number of mentions in texts?

On March 7th, 2006 the New York Times featured an article discussing the major changes to a new edition of Janson's History of Art , an art history textbook first published in 1962 widely considered to be the standard introduction to art history. "The main problem, I think, is that there's no longer a general belief that there exists a single canon for art that should be taught to all students," an art historian is quoted as stating in the article.

Many art historians noted that the first edition included no women and it featured a mostly Eurocentric history of art. The Times noted that the publisher brought in six new scholars to create the first completely revised edition of the work. The new edition not only changes the tone of the work by including more women and minorities in its narrative, it also changes some of the specific works which appear in the book.

This type of debate should sound very familiar to historians, who have long recognized the challenges inherent in crafting a single narrative arc covering a large topic comparable to the history of art. Historians may be well served to discuss these issues with their colleagues in art history. Writing introductory textbooks has always been a monumental task, yet the onslaught of post-modern critiques make the challenge of crafting a coherent narrative in a textbook like Janson’s History of Art even more complex. While offering students a single-clear voice on major topics might be tempting, historians will no doubt recognize that it is often within these complexities that we find the intrigue of our discipline.