Real Clear Arts

Judith H. Dobrzynski on Culture

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Homer And His Unique Way of Seeing

Winslow Homer has always been a complicated artist, and now he will be viewed as an even more complicated one. What’s going to do that is an exhibition opening in June at the Bowdoin College Museum of Art, Winslow Homer and the Camera: Photography and the Art of Painting. 

There’s a great backstory to the show, having to do with a volunteer firefighter in Scarborough, Me., who had inherited a camera once owned by Winslow Homer from his grandfather. The grandfather was an electrician who sometimes works for Homer’s nephew Charles L. Homer, and he got the camera in exchange for work. Or so the story goes. I wrote about what happened “next”–well, in 2014–in an article published online by The Art Newspaper early this morning.

I won’t repeat what I wrote there, but I will elaborate.

In a discussion with Frank H. Goodyear III, co-director of the Bowdoin museum and co-curator of the exhibition, we talked about Homer’s working methods. Homer used photographs from the moment he bought his first camera in 1884 until he died, Goodyear said, along with “all sorts of tools and techniques.” As he did, his works became more complex philosophically as well as superficially.  His cameras, his photographs helped him do that because he took many photos–but the point was not necessarily to be “accurate” but rather to provide multiple ways things could be seen.

Goodyear and his co-curator Dana Byrd, after about three years of research and study, also posit a theory for Homer’s long hours spent on the veranda in his Prouts Neck studio (at left). “He spent a lot of time up there, looking at the ocean, but he didn’t create [paint] up there,” Goodyear explained. “Dana and I see it almost as a lens; it helped him think through what was being created.” He was mulling.

There’s no way to prove that, of course. If memory serves, Homer did not leave much written documentation of his life or his work. But’s an interesting theory that will, likely, remain unproven.

 

 

 

 

ICYMI: Art Is Better Than…

Sex, food, drugs, art–are they all the same? Do they provide the same kind of pleasure and engagement?

No, says Julia F. Christensen, a neuroscientist at the Warburg Institute, University of London. She says–and I seriously hope she is correct–that art engages the brain in a special way that can “help overwrite the detrimental effects of dysfunctional urges and craving.” In an opinion piece published by the Royal Societyy last year, “Pleasure Junkies All Around: Why It Matters and Why ‘the Arts’ Might Be the Answer,” she apparently wrote that, according to the abstract,

We expect to obtain pleasurable experiences fast and easily. We are used to hyper-palatable foods and drinks, and we can get pornography, games and gadgets whenever we want them. The problem: with this type of pleasure-maximizing choice behaviour we may be turning ourselves into mindless pleasure junkies, handing over our free will for the next dopamine shoot….

In excess, however, such activities might have negative effects on our biopsychological health: they provoke a change in the neural mechanisms underlying choice behaviour. Choice behaviour becomes biased towards short-term pleasure-maximizing goals, just as in the addicted brain…

…it is proposed that engagement with the arts might be an activity with the potential to foster healthy choice behaviour—and not be just for pleasure. The evidence in this rather new field of research is still piecemeal and inconclusive. This review aims to motivate targeted research in this domain.

Well, that set off an argument, as I learned in yesterday’s New York Times. Its article, headlined online as Why Scientists Are Battling Over Pleasure. (which was a heck of a lot better than the print hed, Mona Lisa and Pornhub as Equals?  Where is taste when you need it?), doesn’t really take sides but gives the last word to sex–quoting a sex expert as saying that some foods are orgasmic.

Back to art, I side with Christensen in one respect–she advocates more study about the pleasures of art.

The Times article, and presumably her paper, cited three core elements that all sides could back–and these, too, are very interesting:

â–  As with wine, how much people enjoy art seems to be affected by contextual cues like price or the reputation of the creator.

â–  Art is difficult but possible to define. (Definitions vary, however.)

â–  Across cultures, what people perceive as beautiful is less consistent with artwork than it is with architecture, landscapes and faces. (Faces are the most consistent.)

Neuroaesthetics is in its infancy–why close off further research? Or why even dispute an early, very qualified (in the limited sense), tentative conclusion?

 

Why Max Hollein Was Inevitable as Met’s Director

Put yourself in the position of a member of the Metropolitan Museum’s search committee: Despite all the pressure to choose anyone but another white male–somewhat wrong-headed pressure, imho–I think you’d have picked Max Hollein (at left) to be the next director of the museum too. For many reasons–as I will outline.

I’ve commented favorably and specifically about Hollein here before–let me go through some of those posts quickly.

In 2012, I noted the way he had expanded the Städel Museum in Frankfurt to accommodate modern/contemporary art. I cited four reasons, including his approach to fundraising. At the time, I had not seen the addition, but last year I did visit Frankfurt and I saw it. While I know that some people, some curators, do not like it–one told me it looked too much like a shopping center–I disagree. It is a bit white-boxy, but so are most contemporary art museum that were built from a scratch. This one was inserted underground. I think it is about the best suite of galleries that could have been built on that spot.

In 2013, I cited the Städel’s exhibition for Hans Thoma, a once heralded but lost forgotten artist born in 1839. As wrote then:

I commend the Städel for going against the crowd, digging into its collection — it owns nearly ninety paintings and several hundred works on paper by Thoma — and showing an artist that seems so retro. Max Hollein, the museum’s director, said he was doing it because Thoma, “in his day, played a central role in German art and society.”

In 2014, I called attention to two articles, one interviewing Hollein, one Philippe de Montebello, on the job of a museum director. Aside from offering a pretty good (short) definition, Hollein appropriately mentioned local context.

In 2016, when he was appointed to his post at the Fine Arts Museums of San Francisco, I called attention to a video that also outlines his views. also commenting on the individuality of museums, among other things.

In 2017, Hollein commented in a San Francisco Chronicle article about cuts to the NEA budget, which I reported here.

Also last year, I commented twice about one of Hollein’s digital efforts. once at FAMSF, the online guides to an exhibition that visitors can read before they go (and why he believes in them), and later noting how the Städel continued with what he started there after he left.

Taken together, those posts–and I had no intention to be definitive; there may have been other even more incisive interviews of him and/or actions to note–give us a pretty good view of his approach to his job, his museum and artistic philosophy and, in some ways, his character. I do not think the other candidates in the running have be so transparent.

Also, remember that he was initially a “student” of former Guggenheim director Thomas Krens (he began his career as chief of staff and executive assistant to him). Krens is known for playing a bit fast and loose, but–since we’ve seen no evidence so far that Hollein does the same–it’s good experience to have had. If nothing else, Krens knew how to raise money. He also knew how to think big, and reinforced Hollein’s own tendency to do so.

Hollein, too, is experienced at raising money (important for the Met) and has completed a building project (ditto). He has successfully gotten along with FAMSF’s key donor, Dede Wilsey, who likes to rule the roost there. SF sources tell me he has charmed many locals and I’ve heard no tales of alienation. Curators, mostly, seem to like working with him (ok, I heard one complaint, but there’s always one.)

Hollein knows his art history and understands the need for a mix at the Met. (Further evidence of his interest in a broad art program is here). 

He is, I think, press-savvy and that is a big plus because other people at the Met (I shall hold my tongue for the moment) are not.

At 48, he is the right age. If he makes no disqualifying mistakes, he’ll be there for 20 years–long after Met President/CEO Daniel H. Weiss (at right), who is 60, leaves and allows Hollein to take the CEO title. The board won’t have to go through another tedious search for years.

Reviewing all these items, as a trustee, wouldn’t you have picked Hollein?

There is a risk and it’s the relationship between him and Weiss. Weiss has asserted his superiority in a few subtle–starting with the announcement itself, which he made. In the past, since the board did the hiring, the announcement would most likely been made by the chairman of the board.

UPDATE: Interestingly, I just noticed that it was only the email sent to the press that began “Met President and CEO Dan Weiss announced today that Max Hollein has been elected the tenth Director of The Metropolitan Museum of Art….” The press release posted online begins “The Metropolitan Museum of Art announced today that Max Hollein has been elected its next Director….” I am not sure what all that is about, unless someone remarked about the email release.

Now, back to my original post: Further, Weiss reportedly told one journalist that he was an art historian with an MBA and that Hollein was an art historian with an MBA–which seems to me a laying down of facts, yes, but in a way that reinforces the idea that Hollein has nothing on Weiss and that, despite the similarities, they are equals: Traditional syntax would have placed the speaker second in the sentence, not first, unless a message was being conveyed.

And, truth be told, Hollein can one-up Weiss in certain ways. As The New Yorker put it:

Hollein unarguably brings more expertise to the institution than his new boss does. Weiss is a medieval-art historian who rose through academia to become a college president and came to the Met from Haverford College. Hollein, by contrast, arrives in New York from two years as the director of the Fine Arts Museums of San Francisco…[and in his] brief tenure…accomplished a great deal…including savvily implementing digital programs to broaden the museum’s appeal to the coveted millennial demographic….Before San Francisco, Hollein ran a trifecta of museums in Frankurt: the Städel Museum, the Schirn Kunsthalle, and the Liebieghaus sculpture collection…[where] hows organized under his watch range from Albrecht Dürer and Cranach the Elder to Henri Matisse and Julian Schnabel.

At the Städel, Hollein oversaw a sixty-nine-million-dollar renovation that was critically lauded….[and]…perhaps most importantly for the Met, Hollein, unlike his predecessor, is a fund-raiser with a proven track record.

Equally notable, Weiss never let the impending appointment of a director stand in his hiring path–he has already filled some jobs that, I am sure, Hollein would have liked a say in. Most notably, there was–just last month–the appointment of Michael Gallagher as Deputy Director for Conservation and Sherman Fairchild Chairman of Paintings Conservation.

On the other hand, I do give Weiss credit for taking the fall on the change in admissions policy (which went into effect Mar 1). It was good to get that over with long before Hollein arrives.

The board, in my opinion, made a mistake a year ago when it gave in to Weiss’s request (demand?) to be CEO. I understand the need for stability at the Met, someone to make decisions while trustees took their time finding the right director. The board has semi-redeemed itself with the choice of Hollein.

Now the questions are: how will they get along? Can they be “partners”? Or has the Board created another muddle?

 

Getting Picasso Right: You Think It’s Easy?

In London a few weeks back, I was fortunate to be there on the day of the press preview for Picasso 1932: Love, Fame, Tragedy at the Tate Modern. You might think. at first, that doing a Picasso show is easy–few artists have better name recognition  and for a long time, Picasso was like gold, Impressionism and Egypt, a guaranteed box office success. Lately, though, he feels overexposed–not just at exhibitions but also at auction.

And this was the Tate Modern’s first ever solo Picasso exhibit; Frances Morris, the director, wanted to get it right. She and the curators surely did, along with their colleagues at the Musee Picasso in Paris, which co-organized the show.

1932 was a critical year for Picasso–his “year of wonders,” one in which he created some of his best works, made works for and organized (full control!) a major retrospective exhibition at the Galeries Georges Petit, in Paris, scheduled for June of 1932, and led a dichotomous personal life, bouncing between his wife Olga and his mistress Marie-Therese Walter. He revealed the existence of the latter in his paintings for the first time (five years into their affair) in 1932. He was 50.

What struck me as I moved through the many galleries was the vast, repeated and fast-paced creativity he exhibited. This is especially evident in the fourth gallery, “Early March.” There on the walls are three of his very best paintings–two were executed, or finished, on consecutive days. On Mar. 8, he painted Nude, Green Leaves and a Bust (top) and on Mar. 9, he made Nude in a Black Armchair (middle). That was a Wednesday: the following Monday, Mar. 14, he completed Girl Before a Mirror (third from top). Before long, Alfred Barr had it in the collection of the Museum of Modern Art, a gift of Mrs. Simon Guggenheim.

In the same room are three other works he created along with them, all within 12 days: Still Life with Tulips; Still Life: Bust, Cups and Palette; and The Mirror. Of these six paintings, four are in private collections–so this is an extraordinary moment to see what Picasso could do, probably not to be experienced again any time soon!

He had accomplished as much, but not (for me) to such great effect, in January, when he painted Rest on Jan. 22; Sleep on Jan. 23 and The Dream on Jan. 24. That month, he focused on portraits of a woman–Marie-Therese, mostly–in an arm chair. She is, the curators said, imagined–because Picasso rarely painted from life, and the mood changes quite a bit, from sensuous to surrealist depictions.

Those three January works show, in the words of one of the curators, Achim Borchardt-Hume, Picasso’s relationships with women, whom he found “irritating, interesting and the perfect dream.”

It was an ambitious year, to say the least. And varied. One point, Borchardt-Hume said, is that he was mixing styles and saying, in doing that, this is my work and it’s still all relevant. At this point, art historians were categorizing his work into his blue, rose, cubist periods etc. Picasso didn’t like that.

As the year progressed, politics and economics were getting increasingly darker and so was Picasso’s mood. After the retrospective opened, Picasso worked more quickly on, mostly, smaller works–with one exception, Nude Woman in a Red Armchair, which the Tate purchased in 1953 (below). He made many drawings and beach scenes, but by the fall he was focused on the subject of the Crucifixion. Inspired by the Eisenheim altarpiece at Colmar, he made surrealist interpretations of the subject.

Picasso finished out the year with more dark subject matter, with more gray in his works and places where his color does not conform to his line.

It was an amazing year. The Tate Modern and the Musee Picasso have done very well with it, pulling together what Borchardt-Hume confirmed to me was the “vast majority” of the paintings Picasso made that year. An extraordinary number–about 40 works–came from 25 private lenders.

The exhibition contains much more than I have described here, including a lovely salon hang of family portraits that he created for his retrospective (below).

 

And here are a few links to reviews, each of which has different pictures you may want to see.

The Guardian, also The Guardian and The Evening Standard.

If you can get to London to see this exhibit, which runs until Sept. 9, I recommend it.

 

TEFAF Maastricht: Changing, But the Same

The world’s best art fair–Tefaf Maastricht. whose 275 participating galleries show the art of seven millennia, all told–got underway last Thursday, as usual.

Fair organizers are keen to point out what’s different this year: for example, a smaller by-invitation-only crowd on its annual day of free-flowing food and drink, and another by-invitation only access day on Friday, with the public let in only beginning on Saturday. That seemed to work well, though it forced dealers to make an A list of their collectors for Thursday and a B List for Friday, who didn’t get any oysters, champagne or even orange juice. The upside was clear, though: less crowding led to actual conversations between dealer and client and possibly more sales.

Then there was a slight change in the fair’s booth layout, with not every great space occupied by the same dealer every year, and the presence of some new, younger dealers on the main floor, such as Benappi Fine Art and Lullo & Pampoulides, a two-year-old Old Master gallery that showed in Tefaf’s Showcase section in 2017.

In the Modern section, two big new dealers include Emmanuel Perrotin and Massimo De Carlo, who if not young are young in spirit and offer very contemporary works.

I don’t go to Maastricht every year–this was my first visit in five or six years–so it was difficult for me to ascertain whether the presence of Tefaf in New York since 2016 was affecting attendance by Americans. The dealers were not unanimous about that–one told me that American attendance was off by 80 percent, while others claimed it had not been affected at all. My guess–it’s down, but not too badly. I do believe that fewer U.S. museums escorted groups of their patrons, though some, like the Museum of Fine Arts-Boston, were there. A few regulars have, I hate to say, clearly aged out and can’t make the trip anymore.

On the other hand: I did see many American curators and I know some purchases were made by them–undisclosed at this point.

Another change: while the quality was as usual very good, no one painting, or two, became the talk of the fair. None jumped out. I’d seen some pictures/objects at Tefaf New York either in 2016 or 2017, too, so not everything was as “fresh to market” as dealers like to claim. One of my favorite drawings at the fair, a Canaletto, had been sold recently at Sotheby’s but hung here with a much higher price.

The object that was creating a stir was at Parisian dealer J. Kugel’s stand–a 17th Century German baroque clock that stands 26 inches tall and includes representations of the Four Seasons, Minerva, Death as well as the planets, which rotate every twelve hours. But Americans could only look at, not buy, the $9.2 million piece—it’s carved from ivory, which cannot be imported into the U.S. (It’s not really my taste, though I do appreciate the artistry involved.)

That’s posted below, and here are a few pieces that caught my eye. Top to bottom: A Pilgrim as a memento mori, attributed to Baltasar Permoser, c. 1685; The Holy Family, oil on copper, Jacobo Zucchi; Coronation of the Doge, Canaletto.

With these being just a tiny sliver of what’s at Maastricht, you can see why it remains the best art fair.