Real Clear Arts

Judith H. Dobrzynski on Culture

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Smart Move In Brooklyn

A lot of people today are interested in “design.” Unless they are furnishing a home, not all that many are interested in “decorative arts.” They are, of course, fraternal if not identical twins. Yet decorative arts galleries at many museums seem empty, while design exhibitions are crowded.

So today’s announcement is welcome news:

The Brooklyn Museum and Bard Graduate Center announced today a collaborative, multiphase project aimed at rethinking the presentation and study of American decorative arts. Starting in fall 2017, Bard Graduate Center faculty and students and Brooklyn Museum curators will come together as a think tank to examine the organization, display, and interpretation of the Brooklyn Museum’s extensive collection of American decorative arts. This will launch a series of courses on American decorative arts at the Brooklyn Museum…

That and more work will take place and then:

The project will culminate in a full-scale exhibition, curated in part by students, at the Brooklyn Museum on the work of Brooklyn craftspeople, makers, artisans, and artists, and their place in the history of decorative arts and design.

The Brooklyn Museum has a splendid decorative arts collection, with objects dating to the 17th Century, and a wealth of period rooms dating from 1725 to 1929. They are not visited enough. Brooklyn has in the past tried interventions–I recall in particular how Yinka Shonibare made site-specific works for the period rooms during his 2009 exhibition there.  That worked, as I recall, but it has been a long time.

It will be fascinating to see how graduate students grapple with this issue; I hope it will be in a respectful way.

More details here.

Photo Credits: Two period rooms at the Brooklyn, courtesy of the museum.

*I consult to a foundation that supports the Brooklyn Museum.

American Watercolors: Excellent Exhibition, But…

American Watercolor In the Age of Homer and Sargent, now on view at the Philadelphia Museum of Art, is an exhausting exhibition, in a good way. It displays more than 170 artworks and covers the period from the 1860s to 1925. It is, as the press release says, “the most comprehensive loan exhibition in over forty years devoted to the most important chapter in the history of watercolor painting in this country.”

I spent more than two hours in the exhibition this weekend, and here’s the paradox: though I was ready to leave when I reached the final gallery–there’s only so much the eye can absorb–I wanted more. I wanted more because the show builds to a climax in the 1920s, the time when watercolor became the “American medium.” The best artists in other countries in that period were not using watercolor this way. But we were–Marin, Demuth, Burchfield, Dove and Hopper had made watercolor their primary medium, and other great artists like O’Keeffe put it on equal footing with oil.

And yet this excellent exhibition–I can’t say enough about how good it is–gives us just one small gallery of works from that high point. One Burchfield, one Hopper, one Marin, two Demuths–no Doves. Two O’Keeffes on the same subject.

I am always loath to second-guess a curator, but here it feels as if Kathleen A. Foster, the museum’s senior curator of American Art, ended too abruptly at the story’s climax.

Space was not the issue, because the final gallery displays various papers used by Homer and Sargent, samples of watercolors mixed by the artists and those that come in prepared watercolor boxes. I’d rather have seen a Dove, a better Burchfield, etc.

Explaining process has become a feature of many exhibitions these days, but I question whether we needed that final gallery here, when most kids learn what a watercolor is. After all, the exhibit included videos showing processes–scraping, using salt, etc.–along the way.

Watercolor exhibitions don’t come around all that often, as we all know. They can’t be exposed to light for long, and this show will not travel. It’s a pity that I–and I am sure that I am  not the only one–left wanting more. I can only hope that Foster or someone else will mount a comprehensive exhibition of Modernist watercolors and explain watercolor then went out of fashion.

Meantime, see this exhibition if you can. Just because it’s not perfect doesn’t mean it’s not great. It is. I’ve posted three of my many favorites here: Apples and Plums by John William Hill (top); Splash of Sunshine and Rain (Piazza San Marco, Venice) by Maurice Prendergast (middle), Still Life: Apples and Green Glass by Charles Demuth (bottom).

Photo Credits: Courtesy of the Philadelphia Museum of Art. 

At The Met, A Most Timely Acquisition

Maybe I should not admit this, but I never heard of Luisa Ignacia Roldán until a few weeks ago, when I learned that the Metropolitan Museum of Art* had recently purchased a polychrome terracotta sculpture by her. Dated 1700-1701, The Entombment of Christ takes up a very common theme in Spanish art of the period. Her interpretation adds some nice touches; it’s a beautiful, accomplished sculpture by “the first woman sculptor documented in Spain.”

Have a look:

The Met describes the work, which is on view and certainly worth a visit, this being Holy Week, this way:

The Entombment is one of the two “jewel-like sculptures” Luisa Roldán gave to the newly installed King Philip V of Spain in 1701, petitioning him to appoint her sculptor to the royal court. In the previous decade she had pioneered a genre of sculpture—powerfully conceived and exquisitely modelled and painted figural groups, made on a deliberately intimate scale—of which this is perhaps the finest. The emotive expressions of the six figures surrounding the body of Christ as he is laid to rest run the gamut from angry disbelief and empty grief, to tender love and sympathy. The Entombment may have been placed in a convent or monastery affiliated with the royal family, or in the family’s private rooms or chapels. In whichever context, it would have inspired meditative devotion, encouraging the viewer to identify with the witnesses to Christ’s Passion.

She did become the King’s sculptor.

The Met features this work in the third episode of its Met Collects online series, where you can see 27 photos of the work (many details, like the one at right) along with a short essay by curator Peter Bell (who is leaving shortly to take a post at the Cincinnati Art Museum).

The Met owns one other sculpture “probably” by Roldan (not on view), who was the daughter of sculptor Pedro Roldán, but this acquisition seems to be in line with the museum’s goal of adding to its Spanish collections. It has nicely amplified her presence by borrowing two other works by her, on view in the same gallery, from the Hispanic Society Museum, which is closed for renovations.

The Getty owns a work by her as well, and added this interesting tidbit in its online feature:

At nineteen, she married a sculptor from the shop and became her family’s primary source of income, working independently with her husband as polychromist. Roldán’s figures are characterized by clearly delineated profiles, thick locks of hair, billowing draperies, and mystical faces with delicate eyes, knitting brows, rosy cheeks, and slightly parted lips.

Learn more about the Roldan family workshop here.

Photo Credits: Courtesy of the Met

*I consult to a foundation that supports the Met.

Can You Spot the Fake?

It would be a good idea. As the FBI recently warned, speaking about the case of Michigan art dealer Eric Spoutz, who pumped at least 40 forgeries into the market over the past 10 years (h/t to ArtNet) (to learn to spot fakes, that is):

Although Spoutz has been sentenced, [agents] McKeogh and Savona do not believe they have seen the last of the fakes he peddled. …there could be hundreds more that were sold to unsuspecting victims. “This is a case we’re going to be dealing with for years. Spoutz was a mill,” McKeogh said.

So the exhibition that Winterthur recently unveiled, Treasures on Trial: The Art and Science of Detecting Fakes, comes at an opportune time. It presents more than 40 fakes or forgeries–fine art, couture, silver, sporting memorabilia, wine, musical instruments, antiquities, stamps, ceramics, furniture, and folk art–drawn from its permanent collection and public and private collections. Conservationists from Winterthur and other institutions have used scientific analysis and connoisseurship to expose these fakes: their analysis and the pertinent stylistic clues is presented alongside the objects to show the techniques used by forgers to try to fool experts and/or trusting collectors. Among the items on display is a Rothko painting that Glafira Rosales, the notorious Long Island art dealer, sold to the Knoedler Gallery.

I have not seen the exhibit–I’ve just read about it. But such shows–other museums have done this in the past–are always, in my experience, learning experiences. And in keeping with today’s trend to involve visitors, Winterthur’s show invites visitors “to investigate several unresolved examples and share their opinion about the authenticity of the object based on the available evidence.” The highlights in this, the final section, include:

  • A painting purported to be by master forger Elmyr de Hory (whose fakes have themselves become highly collectible).
  • A oil painting whose owner has been trying for many years to prove it a genuine work by Winslow Homer.
  • A vampire killing kit brought to Winterthur for authentication by the Mercer Museum in Doylestown, Pennsylvania.

Colette Loll,  the founder of Art Fraud Insights, LLC, a Washington, DC, based consultancy, co-curated the exhibition with Winterthur’s Linda Eaton, a textile conservator who also serves as the museum’s director of collections.

Pictured here (top) is a painting “believed to be by de Kooning” from a private collection. Here’s what the label says:

Discovered online and purchased for just 450 euros, this portrait of a young boy holding a ball is stylistically similar to Portrait of Renée [at right]. The children share the same haunting expression, posture, and awkward clutching of an object. The works are the same dimension and also share the same technique, with thick paint on the skin; the same use of shadows; traces of conté crayon; and the same lips, hairstyle, and eyebrows. This work was sold with no provenance; the seller simply claimed that it once belonged to a homeless man who wished him to dispose of his things.

And here is the de Hory, mentioned above.

What do you think of these?

Photo Credit: Courtesy of Winterthur (top)

 

A Trouble With Museum Boards

When I started writing that headline, above, I wrote “the” trouble with… But I quickly corrected myself because, as financial and other troubles have plagued many art museums of late (not least the Metropolitan Museum of Art*), it’s very clear that many museum boards have more than one fault.

But a press release today from the J. Paul Getty Trust irked me; it announced: Bruce W. Dunlevie joins J. Paul Getty Board of Trustees. I kept reading, looking for the word “art.” As in, perhaps, art collector. The word was nowhere to be seen. Nor did a Google search of his name + art produce anything in the top couple of pages. Previous board service does not appear to include any at arts institutions.

I know–the Getty is more than an art museum. Yet its mission statement uses this description: “a cultural and philanthropic institution dedicated to the presentation, conservation, and interpretation of the world’s artistic legacy.” But I could find no trace of Dunlevie’s interest in art online. I hope he has one.

I did find that he has plenty of money. As the press release says:

…Dunlevie has worked in the early stage technology venture capital industry for 30 years and is a founder and General Partner of Benchmark Capital, based in Silicon Valley. Benchmark is responsible for the early stage funding of numerous successful startups including ebay, Twitter, Uber, Snapchat, WeWork and Instagram.

Prior to co-founding Benchmark Capital, Mr. Dunlevie worked in investment banking at Goldman, Sachs & Co.

Mr. Dunlevie is currently the Chairman of the Board of the Stanford Management Company, the entity which oversees The Stanford University Endowment. He is a former trustee of Stanford University (serving from 2006 to 2016) and of his alma mater, Rice University. He is also a Fellow Benefactor of Trinity College, University of Cambridge.

A quick search did not turn up his net worth, but he was on Forbes’s 2014 Midas List, which annually ranks “the best dealmakers in high-tech and life science venture capital.”

I am sure that Dunlevie has many attributes, aside from financial wherewithal. And perhaps because Getty Trust President James Cuno has an interest in how digital technology can advance the arts and art history, Dunlevie can help out there.

But I would like to see a stronger connection between museum trustees and art; too many nowadays are not looking for collectors or people with other artistic connections. Non-profits and for-profits share some organizational characteristics, of course. But they have different missions with different expectations, different circumstances and different dynamics.

Photo Credit: 2006 photo courtesy of Stanford University

*I consult to a foundation that supports the Met.