The second "major event" of this week's trip to New York was to see the Sargent & Paris exhibition at the Metropolitan Museum of Art.
I love John Singer Sargent. After my husband (Bob), Sargent (1856-1925) is my favorite artist who lived in the Twentieth Century. When I first moved to New York in 1990, I was horrified to discover that the Metropolitan Museum was hanging Madame X—possibly Sargent's greatest painting—in a stairwell. In a stairwell! This notorious painting, exhibited at the Paris Salon in 1884, caused such a scandal (in Paris!) that Sargent eventually moved from Paris to London in 1886. He lived with the picture in his private collection for three decades until 1916, when he appealed to the Metropolitan Museum to buy it from him. He told the museum director, "I suppose it is the best thing I have ever done." He wanted to make sure that she would be well-cared-for when he was no longer around to protect her.
It seems that Mid-Century "academic elites"—the curators, dealers, and critics who decide which artists do and do not matter—didn't appreciate (or recognize the sublime quality of) Sargent's artistry. While they were chasing Abstract Expressionism and "works with angry messages," Sargent was designated persona non grata (and hanging in museum stairwells). Fortunately, the times have changed. Museums are now willing to admit that Sargent was preternaturally talented. And the academics have since discovered the complete range of Sargent's oeuvre—the landscapes, the nudes, his private works—which has helped them understand that Sargent wasn't simply "selling flattering pictures to rich social climbers." Today, Sargent has pride-of-place in American museums (as well as those in Paris, London and Madrid).
So, it was now Wednesday morning! We left the hotel and walked across the park to the Metropolitan Museum. We have kept-up our Met Museum membership, even after moving from the city, and I had the cards in my pocket. Along the way we passed the always wonderful Belvedere Castle, shown above. It was built in 1867 and is now a magical backdrop to the Delacorte Theatre (which is nearing completion of a two-year renovation).
We arrived at the museum where a shocking development would soon become apparent:
What museum is closed on Wednesdays? I stood on the steps, amongst the stupefied (would be) museum visitors, all verbalizing the same question: "I thought that the museum was closed on Mondays?" Apparently, after Covid, the museum changed its weekly schedule.
Fortunately, I had also brought-along my membership card for the Frick Museum! We trudged ten blocks down Fifth Avenue.
The Frick Museum has just undergone a massive five year renovation, during which time it was closed to the public. We were very fortunate to be amongst the first visitors to see the brand new, reopened museum—especially after such a long closure. The renovation is superb! Perhaps The Frick is the most sophisticated museum-visiting experience in America (which I know of).
I have always enjoyed exploring the "assemblages" of a single collector—which reveals certain interests, tastes, circumstances and points-of-view. I also find it enlightening to see art works displayed in period rooms—that is, presented with furniture, lighting and decorative objets of the period (either the period of the artworks or the period of the collection). This gives the viewer an aesthetic context, it shows how the art was meant to be displayed (in its day), and it gives viewers the chance to appreciate (and covet) beautiful decorative arts (besides the paintings and sculpture).
Like I said, the renovation was flawless. With one exception. The Frick curators have decided to eliminate the informative descriptive placards which accompany each picture. For me, viewing art is both an aesthetic experience (using my eyeballs) and an intellectual event (using my brain). I want to learn about the painting, the painter, and the circumstances of his or her life and times. These short descriptions often provide interesting context or highlight important technical aspects of the painter's craft. If such descriptions were made available on a mobile app, it was never suggested to us. And don't we already spend enough time, siloed and atomized within our mobile devices? Enjoying great art (live and in-person!) should be a communal experience. By forcing art lovers to stand, head-down, looking at their phones, they may be losing the (increasingly rare) moments of true collective participation. Visitors are also being forced to look-away from the artworks. Here we have another example of academic curators attempting to impose their stipulations upon the visitor—to make the exhibit about their edicts, rather than about the artists. (And don't get me started about those ivory tower disrupters who force us to view Rembrandts next to Rothkos.)
The Frick does not permit visitors to take photographs of the artworks. But I did take a photo of the exquisite courtyard, in the center of the building (shown above). I have often told Bob, "I could happily live in this room alone—carving out bedrooms, a dining room and a library in each corner of the courtyard.
Now we need to find two days to drive to New York to see Sargent & Paris before it closes on 3 August!
Though our Greenwich Village store is now permanently closed, LEO Design is still alive and well! Please visit our on-line store where we continue to sell Handsome Gifts (www.LEOdesignNYC.com).
To arrange a visit our Pittsburgh showroom (by private appointment only), please call 917-446-4248.