As I suggested in Old Favorites in Provocative New Company, my piece in today’s Wall Street Journal, I loved the new Whitney Museum’s inaugural exhibition of its permanent collection, America is Hard to See. But unlike most reviewers, I didn’t buy the party line about how terrific its galleries are.
The conventional wisdom is exemplified by this tweet from the NY Times‘ architecture critic:
Went to new @whitneymuseum on first day open to public, w crowds: gorgeous, light filled, art looked great. So far, flawless.
— Michael Kimmelman (@kimmelman) May 2, 2015
The enthusiasm of the crackerjack curatorial team that organized the inaugural show is contagious, as I experienced when I toured the building with three of the four principals. But trying to see with my eyes instead of my ears, I found the permanent collection to be not well served by the Renzo Piano-designed building’s “art-fair architecture,” which tries to tame the vast expanses with temporary walls.
As Donna De Salvo, chief curator and deputy director, told me when we toured the building, these “are all walls that we build. We will construct them each time…Everyone has tried to figure out a system of reusable walls, but I don’t think anyone has come up with something that works.”
What we are left with is an unappealing vista of themed booths:
These characterless, provisional spaces may be appropriate for temporary shows, but seem to me at odds with the imperatives of icons from the permanent collection. Those should be given a sense of place—recognizable physical landmarks that returning visitors will remember and feel drawn to.
That’s why I recommended that “finances permitting, the Whitney should one day revert to its original intention to operate in both its old and new buildings…Historic art was seen to better advantage in architect Marcel Breuer’s more structured confines.”
And as the above photo demonstrates by negative example, small-scaled art needs galleries with an appropriate sense of scale. Here’s the wall that I referred to in my WSJ review, where the small works on paper were dwarfed by their monumental backdrop, in the “Machine Ornament” section of the show:
Below is the machinery that malfunctioned in “Machine Ornament” (with an alarmingly loud crashing sound) during my visit to that same gallery. The recalcitrant skylight was still open (while all the other shades were closed) when I revisited a couple of weeks later. Happily, the sunlight was angled away from the light-sensitive works on paper.
If you look closely, you can see what appears to be a snapped wire, hanging down along the right side of that opening:
If there were ever an artwork that merited a dedicated focus gallery (and hopefully may eventually get one), it’s Calder‘s “Circus,” which in the old building was displayed with selections from the Whitney’s deep holdings of that artist.
For now (as describe in my WSJ piece), it’s the incongruous centerpiece of a gallery devoted to “spectacle,” which largely consists of images of violence and debauchery:
I disliked this space-capsule installation, which allows reflections and views of other artworks to fatally interfere with the enchantment of Calder’s fanciful miniatures. You can glimpse George Bellows‘ “Dempsey and Firpo” to the left. Reginald Marsh‘s “Ten Cents a Dance” is on the right.
The new Whitney does have one intimate focus gallery, but it surprisingly turned out to be a major disappointment. More on that in my upcoming Whitney post about attendance, access and financials.
All photos by Lee Rosenbaum.