Adrian Searle has spent 30 years writing about art, and he reflects on the experiences that have stayed with him. He recalls how Vermeer’s 1670-71 painting, Woman Writing a Letter, With Her Maid, made him feel part of its intimacy, even though much of the story remains hidden. Critics, he notes, are often unreliable narrators, yet the stories that arise from observation can be vivid and unforgettable. He remembers the Vermeer exhibition at the Rijksmuseum in 2023 as tremendous, connecting in his mind to past experiences that shaped him, from a Goya exhibition at the Royal Academy in 1963 to Manet at the Prado in 2003, and Spanish polychrome sculptures in London in 2010. Visits to Documenta in Kassel, Manifesta in Sicily and Belgium, Zurich, and St Petersburg, countless Tate Modern Turbine Hall commissions, Venice Biennale shows, and DIY exhibitions on Glasgow wastegrounds all form part of his memory. Installations like Roger Hiorns’ blue-crystal-encrusted council flat and Pipilotti Rist’s laundry display at Hauser & Wirth Somerset made lasting impressions. Encounters with Fiona Banner’s suspended jet fighter at Tate Britain and Gregor Schneider’s unsettling Die Familie Schneider remain unforgettable. Searle has explored artworks in unusual settings, from boating on a flooded sculpture deck at the Hayward Gallery to spending nights on motorised beds observing installations by Carsten Höller. The journeys, conversations, and accidents surrounding exhibitions often stay with him as much as the works themselves. Some shows almost write themselves, he says, like Anni Albers’ weavings, Richard Serra’s sculptures, or Steve McQueen’s film Grenfell, which he describes as a slow, low-altitude witness flight over the burned-out tower block. He admits that early in his career, he did not fully appreciate Cézanne and had to psych himself up when reviewing the painter. Imposter syndrome, he says, has never left him. Yet the best art engages on multiple levels, offering embodied experiences as well as intellectual insights. He cites Nnena Kalu’s work at Cartwright Hall in Bradford as an example of art unexpectedly capturing attention and emotion. Searle notes that being a newspaper critic requires agility and honesty. He never adopted a rigid methodology. Instead, he observes, hopes for writing inspiration, and allows the experience to guide him. Over three decades, the art world has grown in money and glamour, yet he has remained an observer rather than a participant in its commercial side. His personal tastes, such as his evolving appreciation of Cézanne, have developed through repeated exposure and patience. Artists who are not understood at first may reveal their significance over time. He recalls immersive experiences with Howard Hodgkin, Francis Bacon, Lucian Freud, Edvard Munch, Frida Kahlo, and David Hockney, noting how curators and critics are expected to produce fresh commentary each time an artist exhibits. Some artists evolve without improving, while others improve without changing. Figures like Philippe Parreno, Steve McQueen, Ryan Gander, and Dominique Gonzalez-Foerster demonstrate remarkable consistency and diversity. Georges Seurat’s small seascapes at the Courtauld Gallery exemplify art that is simultaneously unnerving, compelling, and immersive. Searle values quiet moments with minimal distractions, such as observing Goya sketches or Seurat drawings in a closed room. He emphasises that while art may remain the same, viewers inevitably change, making every encounter unique. Through these three decades, Searle’s reflections underscore how art endures, transforms, and continues to shape those who engage with it.