Ordinarily, I would pass up this opportunity to cite yet another example of an art museum dumbing down for the sake of attracting crowds. And I almost did, until I saw who organized the exhibition.

In September, the marvelous Walters Art Museum in Baltimore, home to Raphael’s Madonna of the Candelabra (below), Manet’s At the Cafe, and Veronese’s Portrait of Countess Livia da Porto Thiene and her Daughter Porzia (to name just a few works I picked off the website catalogue randomly), will open Walter Wick: Games, Gizmos and Toys in the Attic (sample at left).

The description: it’s the “first museum retrospective of award-winning author and photographic illustrator Walter Wick. Author of Can You See What I See? and co-creator of the Walter Wick, whose I Spy book series loved by millions of children and adults around the world, Wick has a keen interest in puzzles, games, science and illusions. The exhibition will feature a selection of Wick’s early photographs, which provided a foundation for the artist’s interest in illusions. It will include several of the handcrafted, meticulously detailed installation models accompanied by his large-format color photographs that are the illustrations in his children’s books.”

Sigh.

I didn’t get too worked up, though, because to me it’s all about “mix.” The Walters has mounted many excellent exhibitions (though the title of one on now — Checkmate: Medieval People At Play! — strikes me as a reach), so let it stray into pop culture now and again.

But I changed my mind when I saw that the New Britain Museum of American Art organized the exhibition. This is the very museum that recently renegged on its plan to show newly rediscovered art by women of the Hudson River school because of the costs involved. The very museum that bills itself as “the first institution in this country devoted to collecting and exhibiting American art.” The very museum “dedicated to serving all people by pursuing excellence in art through collections, exhibitions, and education.”

Double-sigh.

The New Britain Museum seems to have drink the “town square” kool-aid. Its website proclaims “where art meets life.”

OK, I know: the cost of Wicks exhibition may already have been paid and accounted for before the reversal on the exhibition of real art was made. I can only hope that is the explanation.

Photo Credits: Courtesy of the Walters Art Museum 

What to make of Fernando Botero? I came back from Colombia both more and less appreciative of the painter of porky people.

Clearly, he is the best-known Colombian artist: His works are in the National Museum and he has a museum of his own, Museo Botero. There, 123 of his works are on display along with 85 by European artists like Picasso, Bonnard, Caillebotte, Soutine, Roualt, etc., etc. and a few American ones, too — gilt by association.

The museum, which I believe is owned by the Banco de la Republica, is a handsome hacienda-style building in La Candelaria, the old part of town. Published reports say that Botero donated his and the other works to Bogota in 2004, and insisted that the museum be free, which it is.

The art is well displayed, in two wings on two floors: one wing for Botero’s works, one for the other artists.

I am more appreciative of Botero because this is a great thing to do for his compatriots. I saw no other place in Bogota, or Cartagena, where Colombians can view such a variety of art by non-Latins. Botero cast his net wide in collecting — in addition to those mentioned above, add in Max Beckmann, Max Ernst, Paul Delvaux, Lucian Freud, even Richard Estes and Neil Welliver, and many more. One piece by each, mostly.  

I also love that Botero clearly knows his art/art history — his homages are both tender and amusing, imho — and I’ve put a few here: Homage to La Tour; to the Mona Lisa, and his portrait of Cezanne. Are they satiric, too, as some believe? You decide.

But I was also dismayed by Botero’s collecting. Even though he knows better, he seems to have embarked on a name-game trophy hunt. Most of the works are far from the best made by the painters in question. Some are terrible examples. If Colombians leave the Botero museum thinking they have seen Picasso, or Beckmann, or Renoir, or Monet, they will probably wonder what the excitement for those artists is all about.

Here, left, is one of the better ones, by Camille Pissaro, from 1901, of the Louvre. See what I mean?   

So I am less appreciative of his gesture than I might be. I am guessing it was a matter of money, not eye, because some of the drawings in the collection are quite good.

Should he have bought fewer, better works? That would have been my choice.

Photo Credits: Courtesy of the Botero Museum (top two); © Judith H. Dobrzynski (bottom two), all rights reserved  

Change usually happens gradually, but every now and then there’s a big rupture. I think art museums have been gradually taking a turn in recent years that is now accelerating as a new generation of directors take over the top slots at America’s big museums.

In the last several weeks, I’ve talked with a fair number of directors — a few over 50, but most younger. While there’s no unanimity — on almost anything — there is a decided movement toward rejecting the idea of museum as “cultural cathedral,” a moniker directors were once proud of.

The popular new metaphor, as I write in an article that will appear in Tuesday’s edition of The Wall Street Journal, is the “town square.”  

As an old saying goes, “name it and frame it.” What you call something matters to how it is perceived, and some museum directors want their domains to be social places, interactive, participatory. They see that as a way to draw new generations and new ethnic groups.

This trend is most pronounced at contemporary museums, and it goes way beyond the “populism” that museums like Brooklyn have been criticized for, more because it hasn’t worked than because it’s not right. (I was reminded of this by the Boston Globe article by Geoff Edgers in Sunday’s paper on the American Repertory Theater: “To Change, Or Not To Change? Attendance Is Way Up, But Some Say ART’s Artistic Director Has Gone Too Commercial.”)

As you may guessed, I have my doubts about the town square metaphor. Great art requires contemplation; it reveals itself slowly, over time, not in one glance. I don’t question the motives of the new directors, or their goals, just their methods. 

And I have just one question: What’s wrong with a cathedral? They come in all kinds of designs. They’re accessible to all. They’re quiet, but not silent. If they suggest a certain mode of behavior, of respect, what’s wrong with that? Doesn’t art, too, deserve respect? 

Traveling, to me, usually involves looking at the art a country has made and accumulated. Of course, one knows in advance that you don’t really go to Colombia, my summer vacation destination, to discover world-class art. But every country has something. 

Let’s start with Colombia’s bright spots: both Bogota and Cartagena (the two cities I visited) have a Museo del Oro, both owned by Colombia’s central bank, Banco de la Republica. The main one, in Bogota, was remodeled in 2008, and tells an excellent tale of gold in Colombia’s regions. Along with the artifact-filled vitrines are an occasional video. There’s an “experience” at the end, called the Offering, where people are directed to a meeting area. A wall suddenly encloses the area, and visitors see a sound and light show.

I liked the artifacts — like the raft above — much better. There are also wonderful study rooms, where people can use either computers or books to learn more. Clearly, the varied experiences were designed to offer something for everyone. Late on a Tuesday afternoon, Bogota’s Museo del Oro was nicely full but not crowded.

The branch in Cartagena, much smaller, contains artifacts from the area, mostly, including this funerary urn, at left.

(Apologies for the glass glare.)

Bogota has a museum of colonial art, which proved very disappointing. There’s little in it, and what’s there is not the best quality. I was the only person in the galleries one weekday morning.

The city also has a museum of modern art, but it is a kunsthalle, and was closed for reinstallation while I was there.

On to the National Museum, which is a combined history-portrait-art museum. The building (above), designed as a panopticon and used as a jail, looks like a fortress, but (after what guidebooks say was an extensive reconstruction) actually works well as a museum. The long hallways function as galleries for exhibits about archaeology, the colonial era, the struggle for independence, national portraits, costumes, and even mummies.

One floor is dedicated to art of the 20th century, including many works by — guess who? Fernando Botero. Botero seems to be a beloved figure in Colombia and, based on the art I saw, the only artist there who has developed a unique style.

What I liked about seeing some of his works here, though, is that some are by Botero before he became Botero. You can see him working through other styles, other artists. Here’s an example (again, apologies for the picture quality). It’s called Contrapunto, from 1957. 

More about Botero, and the Bank, in another post.

Photo Credits: Courtesy Museum del Oro (top); © Judith H. Dobrzynski (bottom three, all rights reserved)