Art critics raving about the happy landing–or happy beginning–of the Albert Barnes collection, in a wondrous museum built for it in Philadelphia, are fabulously correct. After the furor over Dr. Barnes’s will, which said his collection must remain unmoved, and the documentary, "The Art of the Stealhttp://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XMe3r9PLtpl
I’m no painter, but the old Barnes Museum was part of my college life. We got dragged there for courses or later reunions, and it looked like a bunch of second-rate pieces on drab walls in a deteriorating, poorly-lighted house. Plus, it could get so hot and close in there that I’d shuffle out to the garden (with fellow miserables) and wait for the art geeks to finish. Saw the 2010 film, didn’t care which side won the battle.
That’s because I hadn’t understood about money and upkeep. I suspect that Dr. Barnes, a pharmacologist whose prescient eye for art masterworks was incredible at the least, didn’t either. He would likely have assumed that the fortune he had made developing Argyrol, a leading antiseptic in the treatment of gonorrhea, would last forever and take care of the upkeep of his hobby. He turned out to be better at art futures than drug futures.
It’s also improbable that in 1922, he could have predicted that in the same month that the new Barnes Foundation building opened, a single painting--The Scream, by Edvard Munch--would fetch $120 million at auction. Or that in today’s context, a $200 million new structure (with dining facilities, auditorium, research center, gift shop) would look like a bargain.
The collection has–rough guess--about a jillion items. With apologies to “The Music Man,” 181 Renoirs led the big parade, with 69 Cezannes close at hand. They are varied by rows and rows of the finest American wrought-iron objects and textiles, African sculptures, masks and tools--the cream of Pennsylvania German furniture. (I’ll try to put up a photo, but do go online, get 360-degree videos, etc.)
I better keep talking, in case anyone can get their mind around the sheer quantity: 59 paintings by Matisse--including half-moon shaped murals, here moved up above the paintings so they can be viewed from the second-floor balcony, 46 Picassos, 21 Soutines, 18 Rousseaus, 16 Modiglianis, 7 van Goghs, 6 Seurats, and OMG, much much more.
Three things when you walk into the main room:
1. Space: museum-height ceilings give a sense of comfort and cool dry air, filling the room with possibility. The place breathed, and so could I.
2. Light: tall windows here and there mix natural daylight with the subtle lighting of the art
3. Cleanliness: shab is gone, and while the giant collection hasn’t needed restoration (yet), frames have been cleaned, and the art seems to say, “Look at me!” We will, gratefully. Long overdue.
This is one of the world’s greatest exhibitions. I genuflect before the effort’s manifold successes, and tip my hat to whoever wrote, “It’s the Same, But Better.”