...you should at least be able to see it.
I took my Dad to see Picasso's Suite 347 exhibit at the Bass Museum last night. Once inside, my Dad immediately started to complain about the lighting. The lights were low to protect the art but if it were up to him he'd have brought a searchlight. He was so irritated that he asked the poor volunteer "is there someplace we can go to see the art?" Sheesh, Dad. (I noticed that these etchings were dirty as sin and wondered if the low lights were to hide all the private parts.)
After listening to Dad's ranting about being unable to see anything, I noticed there were pieces as high up as about the ten foot level. (Maybe they were the naughtiest ones?) We tried to look in the catalog, but they were tiny even in the book. It was a complete failure as far as he was concerned but we just kept laughing to ourselves like a pair of crazy bums loose in a smutty art shop.