Whitney Gould is still dwelling on MSOE's Grohmann Museum and its "Man at Work" collection. She obviously feels she needs to further explain her position after dipping into the subject a week ago.
She claims to be uncomfortable about being critical of the museum, but in the name of honesty, she must.
What a brave soul!
In a column appearing in today's Milwaukee Journal Sentinel, she argues why her criticism is valid.
Gould writes:
Let's stipulate that Eckhart G. Grohmann is a generous man. The Milwaukee industrialist has given millions of dollars to the Milwaukee School of Engineering and donated his vast "Man at Work" collection of artwork to the school, along with a building to house it. The new Grohmann Museum, at 1000 N. Broadway, is home to some 700 paintings, sculptures and other art objects celebrating physical labor from the 16th century onward.
It's that largess, and MSOE's vital role in the community, that make it awkward to criticize the museum.
But not to point out its shortcomings would be dishonest. Those shortcomings start with the building itself: a remade garage and former check-processing facility now capped with a heavy, Kaiserkopf dome and a ring of monumental bronze statuary perched along the roofline. The effect is rather like Old World Berlin as reinterpreted by Walt Disney.
...Some of the artwork, such as a pair of 16th century Flemish landscapes by Marten van Valckenborch, is memorable. Much of the rest is technically competent but uninspired. But that's OK; Grohmann has been quite candid that he collects pieces for their subject matter - people at work - and not for their artistic value. That's his right.
But when private tastes are arrayed for public consumption, we are all compelled to take stock. Which brings me to the truly unsettling part:
As my colleague Mary Louise Schumacher and I reported recently, one of the artists most heavily represented in the collection, with 81 works, is Erich Mercker (1891-1973), who was commissioned by the Third Reich to record its muscular infrastructure: bridges on the Autobahn, one of Adolf Hitler's proudest achievements; shipyards building U-boats; factories churning out steel; quarries producing stone for the Chancellery in Berlin, seat of the power in the Reich.
At least two other artists in the collection also had Nazi ties. And, according to one of the art historians whom we consulted, some of the figures portrayed in paintings from the war years likely were slave laborers.
You'd never know any of this from visiting the museum. There are no swastikas, no storm troopers in these paintings. But very little supporting information, either. The label for a 1940 Mercker painting of quarry workers, for example, alludes to the Chancellery connection without even mentioning Hitler; many of Mercker's other works are undated and also lack context - despite the fact that there is an "Erich Mercker Classroom" in the lower level of the museum. Do students in that classroom know that the man for whom it was named was a propagandist for the Third Reich?
My point here is that art, like labor, does not exist in a vacuum. Context is critical. Of course you can enjoy art for its own sake; I certainly do, and I, like Schumacher, studied to be an art historian before I got into journalism.
But looking at art is more meaningful when you know something about the artist. Where did he or she fit in with the broader currents of the time? For whom was the work produced, and under what circumstances? Who were the subsequent owners?
Any museum worth its salt will provide such information.
Gould wants context.
An exhibition must include information about the artist. Why was a work produced, under what circumstances, and for whom?
The context is critical.
She says, "Any museum worth its salt will provide such information."
If that's Gould's standard, fine; but she must be very disatisfied with art museums.
I'm thinking of the different collections on display at the Milwaukee Art Museum. Where's the detailed information about the artists and how they "fit in with the broader currents of the time"?
Artists' names, titles of works, and some dates don't cut it. Not enough info.
And where's information about the "context" of Mark di Suvero's The Calling?
Milwaukee residents as well as visitors view it and don't have any idea what compelled di Suvero to create it or how he fits "in with the broader currents of the time."
It would be "dishonest" of me to not criticize the display of The Calling.
There really should be information about di Suvero at the site. What are his politics? What possessed him to produce the work? Why did he do it? What's his agenda?
Without that information, The Calling is just a bunch of orange steel.
Bad example. Even with more contextual information, it would still be just some steel beams.
Nonetheless, Gould should push to get the details out about all the art on display in the Milwaukee area, if she wants to be consistent. There must be full disclosure.
Which artists with works exhibited in the MAM are atheists? Are any of the artists anarchists? Any nihilists? Any anti-Semites? Any KKK members? Any vegans? Did any of the artists kick puppies?
The public needs to know, according to Gould. It's the museum's responsibility to inform, if it's a museum "worth its salt."
It's not enough to look at a work of art and experience it without the complete context.
I did a bit of research on Dogs Playing Poker, one of a series of oil paintings by C. M. Coolidge. The art was commissioned by Brown & Bigelow to advertise cigars and other products. The artist's parents were abolitionist Quaker farmers.
In 1909, at age 64 and at the height of his fame, Coolidge married Gertrude Kimmell, 29, one of his art students. The next year they had a daughter, Marcella, and moved to Bay Ridge, Brooklyn. Coolidge gave up painting and began to write, which meant that his wife, a law clerk, soon became the breadwinner.
Very enlightening.
Now that I know about Coolidge and his "broader currents," Dogs Playing Poker is so much more meaningful.
4 comments:
Museums almost always put their exhibits and collections in context. Perhaps not individual paintings, but certainly an artist's work will be grouped by a period in his or her life, and there is usually a long description in the exhibit hall of the circumstances that may have had impact on the creative process at that time and place. Similarly, works of various artists grouped together by historical time and place always are annotated with references to the purpose (e.g. liturgical, political, decorative) and historical style (e.g. medieval, baroque, or such-and-such dynasty).
The omitted contextual information of this collection is egregious, as is its lack of qualified professional administration, and rightly calls into question the motives of its plainly Germanophile (see the buildings architecture) patron.
Of course, museums display art by grouping according to style and historical period; but in-depth explanations, "long descriptions," about the social context of a given work and the artist's background and motivation aren't typical.
I haven't found that to be the case. Perhaps we have different definitions of "long description."
I think it's fair to suggest that the collection in this case should include some context. The more information the better. I don't have a problem with that.
But let's be honest. Let's be consistent. Let's not pretend that long, contextual specifics about specific works by specific artists in an exhibit are commonplace.
Your "Germanophile patron" comment is quite revealing. It certainly helps put your comments in the proper context.
So does your ignoring and trivialization of the actual issues raised.
I wrote: I think it's fair to suggest that the collection in this case should include some context. The more information the better. I don't have a problem with that.
Clearly, I'm not ignoring the issue, nor am I trivializing it.
What I am doing is offering perspective and exposing a lack of consistency on the part of the museum's critics.
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