Will Herberg, Pluralist

James Gardner

In the history of American art, the Julian Schnabel retrospective at the Whitney Museum in Manhattan may one day assume an importance far beyond what any honest person can now claim for its artistic merits. In light of the general dissatisfaction it has provoked in viewers, it may well serve as a milestone in the interaction between cultural institutions and the public, almost an aesthetic storming of the Bastille. To superficial inspection there is nothing new about this: surely a huffy bourgeoisie, turning away in scorn from some vanguardist masterpiece, is one of the permanent fixtures of Modernist mythology. What is singular here is that the spectators appeared to be bending over backward to find something nice to say, but then just gave up. Nor were these the uninitiated substratum of some lingering booboisie: they were Pavarotti fans, people with PBS tote bags, eaters of quiche. What one was seeing was a massive crisis of confidence, a feeling on the part of the public at large that the citadels of culture were no longer competent to protect their interests. Because of the pluralism that now characterizes the cultural scene, the art-loving public was thrown back upon its own resources and had to decide for itself.

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Richard John Neuhaus

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Manhattan

James Gardner

In the history of American art, the Julian Schnabel retrospective at the Whitney Museum in Manhattan may one day assume an importance far beyond what any honest person can now claim for its artistic merits. In light of the general dissatisfaction it has provoked in viewers, it may well serve as a milestone in the interaction between cultural institutions and the public, almost an aesthetic storming of the Bastille. To superficial inspection there is nothing new about this: surely a huffy bourgeoisie, turning away in scorn from some vanguardist masterpiece, is one of the permanent fixtures of Modernist mythology. What is singular here is that the spectators appeared to be bending over backward to find something nice to say, but then just gave up. Nor were these the uninitiated substratum of some lingering booboisie: they were Pavarotti fans, people with PBS tote bags, eaters of quiche. What one was seeing was a massive crisis of confidence, a feeling on the part of the public at large that the citadels of culture were no longer competent to protect their interests. Because of the pluralism that now characterizes the cultural scene, the art-loving public was thrown back upon its own resources and had to decide for itself.