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Judith H. Dobrzynski on Culture

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It’s A Rave: The Matisse/Diebenkorn Exhibition

San Francisco beckoned me because of the Matisse/Diebenkorn exhibition at the San Francisco Museum of Modern Art. Both artists are nothing if not seductive and, as I wrote in my review of the exhibition for The Wall Street Journal, published in yesterday’s print edition, “Rarely—if ever—in the history of modern art has a renowned artist been as deeply and openly inspired by another artist as Richard Diebenkorn was by Henri Matisse.”

So this was a natural, and like so many other naturals, surprising in that it had never been done in depth before. I loved it, as you will read, and I found different elements to admire in both venues: I saw it late last year at the Baltimore Museum of Art, where it was slightly smaller but just as great.

The curators, Katy Rothkopf in Baltimore and Janet Bishop in San Francisco, made different juxtapositions and were working with a different suite of galleries; each installation has its merits. For example, in Baltimore, the show seemed to build to a climax with Diebenkorn’s “Recollections of a Visit to Leningrad”–which visitors saw on its own large wall as they rounded a corner (though they likely stopped before getting to it to see other works on the way). The Baltimore wall label, as I recall, said “Recollections” was a summation of all Diebenkorn had learned from Matisse. Then they moved on to a large gallery that showed off all the Ocean Park series along with the Matisse paintings that helped inspire them. It practically glowed.

In San Francisco,  the hang seemed more evenly paced. But, in a brilliant move, Bishop hung Matisse’s “Goldfish and Palette” nearer the start, alongside “Urbana #6.” The pairing stopped me in my tracks from the get-go. Have a look:

But in SF, I think, “Recollections” was less prominent, just one painting in a gallery of several, and the space there required the splitting of the Ocean Park series into two galleries. Still, Bishop made this revealing sequence (maybe Baltimore did too, I do not recall).

Both installations encouraged the close looking that affords real insight into both artists’ minds.

Diebenkorn seemed destined for a great career in art–at 26, he had already won a solo exhibition at the California Palace of the Legion of Honor. He was making abstract works then, and he continued to so do for years. But, as this show, which illustrates his evolution over the decades, he owes his greatness to his early exposure to Matisse. The works are accompanied by archival materials. Diebenkorn collected a vast library of publications about him, and he often later glued in color versions of the books’ black-and-white images. He would make notes, like the dimensions or the dates.

In fact, I came to the conclusion that a solo exhibition of Diebenkorn’s work would have been far less interesting than this dual show. (Not so for Matisse, obviously–he always looks great, to me.)

Here are a few more installation shots that I took at the SF exhibition–some, to my mind, more interesting than others.

UPDATE, 3/14: I just discovered this article written for SF MoMA that explains more about this exhibition and collaboration between Bishop and Rothkopf, which you can read here.

SF MoMA, Snohetta and the Fisher Deal

I was just in San Francisco, and finally able to make my first visit to the new, expanded version of the San Francisco Museum of Modern Art. It didn’t change my view of the outside of the new Snohetta-designed addition, but I came away very impressed with the galleries created inside. And my first full view of the Fisher Collection the wing houses confirms, with only a little moderation, what I have written here before about the deal the Fishers cut with the museum.

First, that exterior. I still don’t like it. In person, it looks a little less than I had imagined like “a building equivalent of The English Patient,” which I called it last May.  The folds are more graceful in person than they are in photographs.

But it hardly matters, because you don’t really see that part of the museum’s facade unless you go to the trouble of walking a couple of blocks and glimpsing through other buildings.

Besides, for art museum, it’s what’s inside that counts–and the galleries in the Snohetta building seem to be excellent for showing off art. So, as with my thoughts about the downtown Whitney museum–not crazy about the exterior, but the interior work well–I will henceforth minimize my criticism about the addition’s architecture. With one last exception, namely that I wish the addition fit better with the “old” SF MoMA. From the outside, the two don’t go well together at all. Inside, the seams are better.

I came up the external stairs, entering the museum from Howard Street, and the first view is of the Serra works at right above and then of the grand Helen and Charles Schwab Hall, at left above.

Similarly, seeing the Fisher collection at SF MoMA explains precisely why the museum bowed to the Fisher family’s demands for provisions in the loan agreement that I hope will never be copied. It’s a collection the likes of which could not be assembled today, even with boatloads of money. It would have taken SF MoMA or any museum decades to come close to assembling even a smaller collection of such quality.

Yes, in the 260 works in view (of 1,100 in the collection), there are too many Chuck Closes for my taste, for example. I cannot say that every work there will be viewed with awe 100 years from now. It’s still wrong for the Fishers to claim such a large portion of the building for their collection at all times. They should have been more flexible in the way their collection was to be displayed. All that is still true.

But any modern museum would have cut a deal to get this collection–as you’ll see for yourself in the photos I’ve  posted below. I wish SF MoMA had negotiated a better deal, and I wish it would disclose the complete agreement so the public can see for itself what was given away. But we’ll never know if laxer terms would have worked and still won the collection.

Here are just a few views:

The Met: What Happens Next, Part Two

As I indicated in yesterday’s post, the Metropolitan Museum of Art* is in for a bit of a rough patch–but let’s not overdo it (as some people have). The Met’s exhibitions program–its core–is still packed with excellent offerings. Great curators still want to work for the Met–or will, once things settle down. It goes without saying that its collections are the best in the land.

But the Met has gone wrong in not playing to its strengths. Supposedly pulled by moneyed trustees who collect contemporary art and–this must be said–definitely by many critics and others in the media pushing in the same direction, Tom Campbell has tried to make the Met more contemporary.

Let me say right here that I have nothing against contemporary art: I like a lot of it.

But no one complains that the Louvre has missed the boat on contemporary art; no one says the Louvre can’t expect to draw crowds unless it updates its offerings. In 2015, 8.6 million people visited the Louvre, even though there they don’t even see Impressionism or other 19th century art (according to statistics compiled by The Art Newspaper). That is the province of the Musee d’Orsay. And if in Paris you want to see contemporary art, you go to the Pompidou Center. It had 3 million visitors in 2015. The Orsay, by the way, had 3.4 million.

Likewise, no one says the National Gallery in London or the British Museum must move foursquare into contemporary. The National Gallery attracted 5.9 million people in 2015, and the British Museum 6.8 million. Both outdrew the Tate, with 4.7 million, just as here the Met (6.5 million) outdraws the Museum of Modern Art (3 million).

You can say that most of those visitors are tourists. Fair enough. And maybe some are going simply to see the Mona Lisa in Paris or the Raphaels, Titians, etc. at the National Gallery.  But such people will always exist. And museums are not just about the numbers–they are also about the experience, the stimulation, the uplift, the internal, often inexpressible reaction that people have to great art. Yes, I know, museums are also social–but they can’t be only social experiences or they lose their raison d’etre (and maybe tax status).

Now I’m not letting Tom Campbell off the hook–if he was pushed by trustees, he also put many of those contemporary collectors on the museum’s board. He recruited them. (I cannot account for the media influence, but I am guessing it was far from nil.)

Board composition must therefore also be on the reform agenda. Many collectors still buy beyond contemporary–some collect contemporary AND. Let the Met find them and give them voice.

Which brings me to the subject of board leadership. Daniel Brodsky has been chair since 2011. At the time he was elected, he told The New York Times that “he did not have a deep knowledge of art history or a favorite piece in the museum’s collection, although he prefers modern art.”

He was also said to “get along with everybody.” That’s a great trait–until courageous action is required. It is, I’ve been told, a reason Brodsky did not attempt to remove Campbell before now. If he had, some damage may have been avoided. And he had to be pushed, my sources say, mainly by Hamilton (Tony) James, the finance committee chair, to act now.

These are the people on the executive committee: Candace K. Beinecke; Russell L. Carson; Richard L. Chilton, Jr.; Jeffrey W. Greenberg; J. Tomilson Hill; Hamilton E. James; Bonnie J. Sacerdote; Alejandro Santo Domingo; Andrew M. Saul; James E. Shipp, and Lulu C. Wang. These are the people we will have to look to most to safeguard the Met.

Chilton, btw, heads the nominating committee–I hope they he will help recruit trustees who are not only contemporary collectors to the board.

But back to what the Met should do: New York is just as big a cornucopia for art as Paris or London. I believe the museums here should emphasize their uniqueness, not blur the lines among them–so that the public does not where to expect what, where an exhibition of an artist is likely to be.

Museums thrive when they have distinct identities, not when they are shopping-mall mishmashes.

And what should the Met specialize in? It’s a universal museum, for sure, and should remain so. It should not be specialize in periods as do the Louvre and the National Gallery. But perhaps it should specialize in what, for lack of a better word, can be called canonical art. Art, even art of today, that will most likely be considered as part of the canon 100 years from now. Does that mean it will not show some hot artists that get a show in Chelsea? Yes, it does. But it doesn’t mean that it would not have shown Kerry James Marshall. He is likely to last.

The Met will miss some artists this way–but it already has and it always will. No curator is infallible, and neither can the Met be.

This doesn’t mean that the Met will ossify. The Met can and should still have digital programs, for example. It should still devise innovative ways to show great art. It should still educate visitors and students. It can and should experiment. But let’s rebalance. Let’s move away from the idea that contemporary art is the only entry point for “the masses.” How elitist.

*I consult to a foundation that supports the Met.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The Met: What Happens Next, Part One

Tom Campbell’s forced resignation from the top post at the Metropolitan Museum of Art* yesterday was both expected and shocking at the same time. Given the museum’s financial woes–most of which Campbell is responsible for–and internal morale, especially among curators–ditto–he could not last. He is just 54, and normal retirement would be years away.

Campbell knew it: he applied for and did not get the directorship of the Victoria and Albert Museum in London, I’ve been told by reliable sources. That job went instead to Tristram Hunt, a former Labour MP. I’ve heard he has made inquiries about other top jobs as well.

I think it’s good that the Met board acted–a bit late, imho, but still–it’s was an unprecedented move on their part, one that means the Met will remain unsettled for months if not years to come. I also agree with the temporary elevation of COO Dan Weiss to CEO. While he may want the job–I have heard mixed views of that–I think it would be a mistake to name him director.

Before trustees write the next job description and begin assessing candidates, they should–we all should–understand why Campbell failed.

One of Campbell’s biggest mistakes (we’ll get to the financial issues later) was losing the support of the museum’s curators–even those he hired or promoted. Remember that he was their choice when Philippe de Montebello retired in 2008. The search committee was looking at two other internal candidates–Gary Tinterow, who later left to head the Museum of Fine Arts in Houston, and Ian Wardropper, who later took the job at the Frick Collection. (Both are flourishing, though Wardropper has faced push-back on his expansion plans and has had to drop one set of them for a less ambitious plan, still in the making.)

Curators pushed Campbell’s name then–they thought he was a good curator and, as one told me recently, they did not know his failings.

But he has regularly disappointed them. His offenses are many–including his lack of interest in their acquisitions (he doesn’t even want to look before the meetings, some curators say–a distinct contrast from PdM); his closed-door, appointment-only policy for one-on-ones; his predilection for hiring British curators who (supposedly) would be loyal to him; his hard-edged privileging of contemporary art and the need to be “hip” over the art in the Met’s collections; his over-the-top hiring in the digital media department, which meant that curatorial jobs (mostly assistant level) could not be filled; and the way he treated many curators who he ushered, sometimes prematurely, out the door of the Met so he could make his own choices.

Oh yeah, and he openly disparaged them in public, telling Deborah Solomon “You tell your American curators to stop being such whiners.”

And while they were not curators, it was stupid of Campbell to “encourage” the departure of former president and fundraiser par excellence Emily Rafferty and Harold Holzer, the snior vice president for public affairs, who managed the Met’s image. Campbell made life difficult for both (and others), apparently in the belief that they were too close to de Montebello.

That kind of behavior can not go on in an institution like the Met, which shines mainly because of the expertise of curators and the exhibitions and scholarship they produce.

So, I would say, the death knell for Campbell really began pealing loudly–as I wrote here on Jan. 10–when the Forum of Curators, Conservators and Scientists voted on and sent a letter of complaint to Campbell, Weiss and board chair Daniel Brodsky. That was triggered, as I wrote, by cuts in their benefits late last year but it was about so much more. And it was so explosive that even board members who wanted to see it had to visit the General Counsel’s office–Brodsky refused to circulate it lest the contents leak to the press.

Years ago, the director of the Met (and other museums) was really chief curator as well as chief executive. The job’s expanded duties now have made that difficult, but it’s worth remembering when the board considers whom to hire next.

If the search committee–yet to be named, another good sign, I think–cannot find someone who can live with and encourage curators, rather than demoralize them, they should consider creating the job of a chief curator who will be their advocate.

Photo credit: Courtesy of the LA Times

*I consult to a foundation that supports the Met

 

 

 

Many Miles To Go To See Art

I don’t know all that many people, aside from curators doing research and wealthy collectors, who hop on a plane a fly overseas mainly to see an art exhibition. But that is what has been happening in recent weeks for Icons of Modern Art: The Shchukin Collection at the Fondation Louis Vuitton in Paris. I did it myself over Presidents’ weekend, and–thanks to airfare and hotel sales, largely due to a drop in tourism in France attributed by many to terrorism fears–believe it was worth every penny I spent.

(The last time this happened, I think, was 2011, when the National Gallery in London presented Leonardo da Vinci: Painter at the Court of Milan. I am sorry I didn’t make the trip for that one.)

The Shchukin show is simply amazing. The highlight is a roomful of Matisse paintings, including The Red Room (Harmony in Red). It faces a wall with The Pick Studio in the center, as seen here (I got in as soon as the exhibition opened–later this room was much more crowded):

But there are so many surprises too–a tapestry work by Edward Burne-Jones; Picasso’s Portrait of Soler; a little Rousseau titled View of the Port Sevres, with a balloon, a biplane and a dirigibl; a wonderful Cezanne self-portrait; many Picassos, and a great roomful of Gauguins.

Shchukin bought these works between 1898 and 1914–the 130 at FLV, and another 145 or so–from top dealers like Vollard, Durand-Ruel, Bernheim and Kahnweiler. He displayed them cheek-by-jowl, too close together, as at right, and he opened his home to Russian artists, who learned from his collection.

The cost to mount this exhibition, I’ve heard, exceeded $1 billion in insurance, shipping. couriers, display/installation, preparation and publication of the catalog and other books (I bought an abbreviated paperback about the exhibition, rather than carry home a very weighty catalog), security and so on. Managing the lines to get into the FLV, located in the Bois de Boulogne, probably cost extra too! They are long.

But that’s not the reason to go. The reason to go is this: seeing these works together, in the west rather than in Russia, where the collection is split anyway–is unlikely to happen again, at least in our lifetimes. Which is why, in the three days I was in Paris, I knew of neighbors with no art world connections who went over, ran into some friends at the Musee d’Orsay who had arrived just for the Shchukin exhibition, and learned of a few other friends who had done the same on other recent weekends. And that doesn’t include the curators who spent their own money to go.

The one false move, for me, was an opening multi-screen video installation by Peter Greenaway and Saskia Boddeke that creates a conversation between Shchukin and Matisse, largely about his murals La Danse and Music, and gives minor roles to other artists. It comes off as very phony and not terribly entertaining.

If you can, I encourage a visit–the exhibition was extended until Mar. 5.

The FLV building, designed by Grank Gehry, seemed to me to be good for art, with grand galleries, small spaces and good traffic flow–but I did not like the colored splotches (blue, yellow, green, red) added by French artist Daniel Buren in a temporary installation titled Observatory of Light. The building is more beautiful without Buren’s work (at left, in a picture that makes it look good!), which said nothing to me.

Before Icons, FLV had been showing its collection, owned by Bernard Arnault, in different hangs, which you can see here. I cannot tell you whether they were good. But with Icons, Arnault has done the world a favor.