Tired of the Cliff? So am I, so here’s something different.
The movers and shakers of
the art world — museum notables, gallery magnates and deep-pocketed collectors
— gathered in recent days for the annual Art Basel Miami. There are similar events in Basel,
Switzerland (where it all began in 1973) and in Hong Kong. This is the tenth Miami extravaganza drawing
the usual crowds and much attention, not all of it positive. Full disclosure, I’ve never attended.
As reported
in the NY Times, Art Basel Miami is stimulating considerable conversation this
year brought on by a number of art critics who have voiced dismay at the role
big money is playing in today’s art world.
Not surprisingly, leading the pushback against such critiques are
the Rubells — especially Mera and her son Jason — unquestionably Miami’s first
family of art. They own one of the
largest and most important private contemporary art collections in the world. Much of it travels to shows around the
country, but the core collection is on view in a
repurposed Miami storage facility that they have turned into a museum open
to the public.
The contention of the
critics is that money drives the art world when assumably it should be the
art. It’s a compelling argument and one
that certainly resonates at a time when money is playing such a pivotal role in
much of our society. We just experienced
the most expensive presidential election in history and are in the midst of a
battle royal over taxing the rich. More
important, the huge, might I say unconscionable, disparity between the super
rich and almost everyone else is in the spot light, not only here but also in
many countries around the world.
Munch "The Scream" |
According to the Times these critics are, “arguing that
the staggering sums of money being spent on works are distorting judgments
about art and undermining its long-term cultural significance.” It’s a powerful argument but hardly new,
something I’ll return to shortly.
Despite the ups and downs of our economy, major (and some would argue
not so major) works of art continue to fetch astounding amounts of money at
auction houses like Sotheby’s and Christie’s.
This has been a banner year capped off by the sale in May of Edvard
Munch’s “The Scream” for a record
$120 Million. It is currently on
view at the Museum of Modern Art.
These lofty numbers effectively
price the average and even economically above average art lover out of the
market, or perhaps more accurately a specific end of that market. Even museums can’t compete these days and not
merely because they can’t buy art at these levels. One of the current valuation’s unintended
consequences is that institutions often can’t even afford the insurance
required to borrow important works for shows.
Returning now to the fact
that all this it is not new. Decades
ago, I worked for a consulting company headed by the then son-in-law of John Hay (Jock) Whitney, scion of a fabled American family. One weekend my wife and I were invited to
spend the afternoon at Greentree, the
Whitney’s Long Island estate. To be sure
the imposing mansion was memorable, but what left the greatest impression were
the works of art hung on its walls. These
were the likes of Cezanne, Manet, Degas, Monet and Picasso. “Know that work” (I said to myself) but only
because it was pictured in some art book or had been temporarily on display at
the Met or MoMA. Jock Whitney was among
the world’s richest men of his time and, like others of such wealth and
background, he bought art. It was the
kind of art that was out-of-reach — an understatement — for almost all of us.
But that was nothing new
because the intersection of wealth and art is age old. Art Basel Miami is a place to see and to be
seen, a playground for the rich and famous, something that may turn critics and
many art lovers off. But rich people,
often royalty or popes, have been buying the works of great artists from the
very start. In many eras they dominated
the buying market. Michelangelo and
Rembrandt depended on rich patrons, as did Picasso and Matisse in more recent
times. Even so, some art has always been
affordable — even works that today fetch those millions but could be bought for
a song.
It’s important to remember
that wealthy collectors including today’s Rubells of Miami and yesterday’s Cone
sisters of Baltimore (see my recent guest posts on the Artbouillon blog) have
amassed great collections that they ultimately share with the public. The Rubells have their gallery and the Cones left
most of their astounding assemblage to the Baltimore Museum. Most museums, old and new, have built their
collections around art that was either donated or bequeathed to them by the
rich.
Roy Lichtenstein "Crying Girl" (silkscreen) |
Moreover, while the great
paintings may be out of reach to the average art lover, she or he is not
precluded from becoming a collector. The
most notable example of course is Herb
and Dorothy Vogel, a couple of very modest means — a postal worker and
a librarian — who amassed one of the great American art collections of the twentieth
century. I have been able to surround
myself with affordable originals by artists I love in collecting mostly their
works-on-paper. And wonderful drawings,
paintings, collages and sculptures by new and less known artists still sold at
reasonable prices are widely accessible.
Perhaps we don’t all have Herb Vogel’s eye, but we know what we like,
and hopefully love. Yes there is an
exclusive side to Basel Miami but many art lovers of average means make the
trek there each year as they did last week.
The vast majority of
artists struggle financially, often forced to have “day jobs” in order to make ends
meet. Of course the same can be said
for actors and musicians but also of people in almost any other field. When Gertrude Stein and the Cone Sisters
started buying from Picasso he had barely enough resources to support a very
modest lifestyle. Their patronage of him
and Matisse made it possible for two of the greatest twentieth century artists
to carry on with their work. You might
say their wealth was put to good use.
In the past the gap between
most artists and their patrons was, to put it mildly, wide. Rembrandt had some prosperous years but died in
debt. Van Gogh’s emotionally troubled life was probably compounded by his
ongoing financial struggle. Artists
whose paintings now command millions saw none of the riches that their works would
bring. But one consequence of bidding up
of art prices today is that a probably larger number of living artists than was
the case in earlier times have benefited directly, have amassed wealth of their
own. Picasso certainly became wealthy, and
the same can be said, among others, for artists like the Willem de Kooning, Roy
Lichtenstein and Robert Rauschenberg each of whom left large estates. So maybe that’s a difference, something
positive out of today’s expensive art world.
Yes, it would be wonderful if we all could afford great works of art, but
it’s satisfying to know that some artists are benefiting directly from the run up.
It’s easy to bash the rich
and bemoan the cocktail parties and dancing that went on in Miami. Some of the disdain may even be merited. At the same time, a good number of today’s
(and yesterday’s) wealthy collectors see themselves as temporary custodians of
the art they’re purchasing for sums too great for most of us to even
contemplate. Some, like the Rubells and
Eli Broad or before them Norton Simon or Ray Nasher have established their own
museums; others have just turned their treasures over to an existing public museum near
you and me. People of wealth buy big
houses, cars, yachts, jet planes and the like to pamper themselves. Many also buy art much of which will end up
accessible to us and enriching our cultural lives.
That has long been the case and, considering the result, it’s really not
such a bad thing.
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