Exhibitions and Inhibitions

Rather ironically, the most entrancing novelties to surface on the New York art scene this past season were not to be found in the highly touted special exhibitions. Instead, they came from the permanent collections of two museums, the Metropolitan and the Guggenheim, but they were new to the public because they had seldom if ever been shown before. In December, the Met gave over its temporary exhibition space to the cream of the “more than 15,000 works of art” (to quote from the catalogue) it has acquired in the last ten years, a marvelous potpourri that ranged from an Italian Renaissance bed to totem poles. Now the Guggenheim is making a similar gesture: 200 painting from its seldom-seen holdings of pre-1945 works will grace its curved walls till September. Both shows fascinated critics better known for their acidity than for favorable notices, and both did well attendance-wise.

But why, you may ask, if these institutions possess such remarkable things, has the public been made to wait so long to see them? The question is not an idle one, nor does it apply only to these two museums. To be fair, it should be noted that many of the Guggenheim’s paintings, though never before shown together, have adorned temporary shows there. As for the Met, its more spectacular buying coups— the headline-making multi-million-dollar paintings, that Greek vase about whose export the Italian government is still making rumbling noises—have been integrated into the regular galleries, as have other, less conspicuous acquisitions. But many others, apparently no less beautiful or important—that Italian bed, for instance—-had been languishing in storage for years.

RB

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Ruth Berenson

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Rather ironically, the most entrancing novelties to surface on the New York art scene this past season were not to be found in the highly touted special exhibitions. Instead, they came from the permanent collections of two museums, the Metropolitan and the Guggenheim, but they were new to the public because they had seldom if ever been shown before. In December, the Met gave over its temporary exhibition space to the cream of the “more than 15,000 works of art” (to quote from the catalogue) it has acquired in the last ten years, a marvelous potpourri that ranged from an Italian Renaissance bed to totem poles. Now the Guggenheim is making a similar gesture: 200 painting from its seldom-seen holdings of pre-1945 works will grace its curved walls till September. Both shows fascinated critics better known for their acidity than for favorable notices, and both did well attendance-wise.

But why, you may ask, if these institutions possess such remarkable things, has the public been made to wait so long to see them? The question is not an idle one, nor does it apply only to these two museums. To be fair, it should be noted that many of the Guggenheim’s paintings, though never before shown together, have adorned temporary shows there. As for the Met, its more spectacular buying coups— the headline-making multi-million-dollar paintings, that Greek vase about whose export the Italian government is still making rumbling noises—have been integrated into the regular galleries, as have other, less conspicuous acquisitions. But many others, apparently no less beautiful or important—that Italian bed, for instance—-had been languishing in storage for years.