“So what?”. A frequent question/reaction concerning our field, whether
verbally expressed or secretly thought. It’s a legitimate question and one we
are rarely available to discuss.
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| Rembrandt Harmenszoon van Rijn, "Retrato de Marten Soolmans" e "Retrato de Oopjen Coppit" (imagem retirada do jornal Telerama) |
When I had first read the news about the joint
acquisition by the Louvre and Rijksmuseum of Rembrandt’s Portrait of Marten Soolmans and Portrait of
Oopjen Coppit, for €160 million, I didn’t exactly think “So what?”, but
rather “Why?”. Why these two paintings? Why all that money? Once I tried to
understand a bit better the importance of the paintings (whatever importance
that might be, within the context of art history or any other), I was most
often confronted with the adjective “rare”. The portraits are “rare”, being
exhibited in public was extremely “rare, etc. etc. This brought up even more
questions: Rare how? Why should they be seen more often? Why did these two
public museums make such a huge (financial and collaborative) effort to acquire
them?
At the NEMO annual conference, which
took place last November in Pilsen, Czech Republic, the then Rijksmuseum
director Wim Pijbes was questioned by other colleagues regarding this
acquisition. The main concern expressed was that the €80 million spent by the
Dutch government could have been invested in a number of smaller Dutch museums,
threatened with closure due to government cuts. In his answer, Pijbes made a
slight attempt to discuss the “importance” of the paintings. As I recall, he
talked about the fact that two ordinary citizens had chosen to be depicted in
full-size portraits as if they were aristocrats. And this again was a “rare”
thing…
I am sure there are marvellous stories regarding Rebrandt’s two
paintings: the couple depicted, the commission, the artist, his art, as well as
Holland’s social history and the ways it might be linked today to contemporary issues.
But this doesn’t seem to be an issue when acquiring an artwork for €160 million.
Taxpayers should feel content with the fact that specialists are able to
distinguish what’s rare and important and make decisions on their behalf,
without feeling the need or obligation to explain their relevance and
importance for what one might call “the common good”.
In 1994 I was a museology student in London. At that time, the National Gallery of
Scotland and the Victoria and Albert Museum jointly acquired and kept on British
soil Antonio Canova’s The Three Graces
for £7,6 million. The case had drawn extensive
media attention. The legal battle was long and the sculpture remained in
Britain thanks to both public and private money. Out of curiosity, I looked for
articles written at that time (here and here)
in order to see if and how this effort was “justified”. Not surprisingly, what
I found was that this is a “supreme sculpture” of “exceptional importance” and
so on…
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| "Caquesseitão" (image taken from the newspaper Publico) |
A few years ago, a “caquesseitão” (vase in the shape of an animal),
which Portuguese experts had advised the State to acquire,
had been sold for a €150.000 in Paris. The auction house had described it as “an
exceptional object”, “absolutely sumptuous”; and a Portuguese specialist as an “extraordinary
piece”, “of importance in the panorama of Portuguese/Oriental jewlery and
iconography”. At the time it had become known the object would be available for
sale, I remember a colleague joking that he didn’t think the State would bid
for it as no government member was able to pronounce “caquesseitão”. Well, yes, that and also…. what is a “caquesseitão”?
How many Portuguese would even know what the word meant, much less understand
why public money should be spent to acquire it?
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| Centrepiece from the Ajuda National Palace (image taken from the website of the Municipality of Libson) |
More recently, the Portuguese State spent €48.000 for a dining table
centrepiece (today at the Ajuda National Palace). The official statement regarding the centrepiece was that its recovery “not only represents
an important acquisition for the Portuguese artistic heritage, but allows to restore
and enhance a set whose special meaning has the greatest importance for the collection
of the Ajuda National Palace, being the second largest tableware in a collection
of about 300 pieces.” “Important”, “special meaning”, “the second largest in
the collection”. So what, so what, so what? Feeling extremely curious about the
piece, and upset about the explanations given, I attended a lecture by Cristina
Neiva Correia, our colleague at the Ajuda National Palace and found out how
much more could and should have been said to the public regarding this acquisition.
Why wasn’t it said? Why the majority of the people who contributed for its
acquisition where ignored?
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| Domingos Sequeira, "The Adoration of the Magi" (image taken from the website of the Museu Nacional de Arte Antiga) |
Which brings me to the most famous case of crowdfunding for an artwork
in Portugal: “Let’s put Sequeira at the right place”, carried out by the
National Museum of Ancient Art. The campaign was original and fun (people
interested to contribute would be able to acquire some of the 10.000.800 pixels
of the painting spending €0,06 per pixel) and it had a very happy ending.
Certain “technical” issues were raised from the first moment, but for the
purpose of this argument, I´ll stick to my role as an ordinary member of the public, a
non-specialist, but curious and interested in helping this cause. Although I
didn’t particularly like the painting, I tried to look for information
regarding its importance; the “why” behind the effort that would justify my contribution,
despite not liking the painting. One museum staff member stated that “It is a work of great quality by one of the greatest Portuguese painters of
the nineteenth century, for many people the greatest.” Great, greatest, great...
I also looked on the official website, managed by the official newspaper of the campaign, hoping for an explanation
that would appeal (and might convince) a non-initiated member of the public.
Here’s what I found: “The prodigious modelling of the figures and light, the
full integration of these essential components of the painting, the unusual structure
of the composition (a crowd that releases the clear space where the episode
focuses, a theatrical vision of an epiphany of the divine presence which is, at
the same time, human form and beatific light), make The Adoration of the Magi, as it was already stated in 1837 by a
Roman scholar, an absolute capolavoro
(masterpiece).” They lost me right there.
I thought “So what?”.
I am afraid we are managing this field as if it was some kind of a “private
joke”, something to be shared and understood by the fortunate few and the
initiated. What concerns our heritage, our museums, our culture is not just of
our business, though. As public money is spent on it, as we are seeking more
and more the support (all kinds of support) of the people, we should seriously
and carefully consider the message we are actually sending across; and the barriers
we are raising. We are behaving like elites, but at the expense of all. Isn’t
there something more we could and should say about what we are doing and why?
Shouldn’t we feel a bit more accountable? I am not naïve to the point of
believing that the majority of people would miraculously start caring, but
maybe – just maybe – if there was a genuine interest in involving people and
sharing a sense of belonging beyond a group of fortunate few, eventually, in
the long term, people’s concern and interest regarding our heritage, and the cultural
field in general, might also change?
Note on 30.7.2016: Interesting answers regarding the aquisition, through crowdfunding, of "Armada", the portrait of Elizabeth I.
Note on 30.7.2016: Interesting answers regarding the aquisition, through crowdfunding, of "Armada", the portrait of Elizabeth I.
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