Detroit bankruptcy causes outbreak of woolly thinking

Ruisdael The Jewish Cemetery DIA

Detroit's bankruptcy has occasioned an outbreak of poorly argued, ill-considered and downright silly commentary about the fate of its art museum. Peter Schjeldahl wrote a hasty and careless blog in the New Yorker implying that selling the art collection is a no-brainer, only to recant two days later. Erstwhile libertarian Virginia Postrel wants the pictures sold, but only if she can chose who can buy them. And Tim Worstall tries to make a bold economic case for sale, but this free marketeer understands neither fine art nor free markets.   

Postrel argued that Detroit's art should be sold to US museums in larger and wealthier areas - trying to make an economic argument for their sale and a public good argument for their retention by US museums. The logic of these arguments points in opposite directions. They'd be seen by more people in a megalopolis like Karachi (which has 13m inhabitants but no money), and they'd raise more funds if they were sold to the highest bidder - more likely to be a private collector than a public museum. Postrel has failed to make a case for her preferred variety of fudge. 

Postrel is known as a libertarian, but her insistence on limiting sales to US museums and her stated preference that the art moves to more dynamic cities reeks of dirigiste authoritarianism, imposing her preferences by insisting on a constrained market. In any case, the idea that some cities are more worthy of great art than others is daft. Yes, it's a historical accident that a small declining midwestern city has ended up with a phenomenal museum of international importance, but lucky them. Florence and Venice are relatively less important cities than in their heyday - should they sell off their art too? 

Worstall thinks selling would be 'the very definition of wealth creation' because the buyer by definition values the art more than the money paid, and Detroit can pay pensions and benefits rather than keeping a few pictures "that the well to do like to oooh and aaah at".  He's right on the level of this old joke:

Experienced economist and not so experienced economist are walking down the road. They come across a pile of horse manure lying on the asphalt.
Experienced economist: "If you eat it I'll give you $20,000!"
Not so experienced economist runs his optimization problem and figures out he's better off eating it so he does and collects money.
Continuing along the same road they come across another pile of horse manure.
Not so experienced economist: "Now, if YOU eat this I’ll give YOU $20,000."
After evaluating the proposal experienced economist eats it and collects the money.
They go on. The not so experienced economist starts thinking: "Listen, we both have the same amount of money we had before, but we both ate horse manure. I don't see us being better off."
The experienced economist replies "Well, that's true, but you overlooked the fact that we've been just involved in $40,000 of trade."

Measured increases in wealth creation are only proxies for human welfare, and trade is a means to an end, not an end itself. We're obviously better off if some 'wealth' isn't created - the wealth we could make from building apartments over Central Park, for example (only used by a few yuppie joggers, as Worstall might say), or from selling Thalidomide. Sophisticated free market economists have always understood these commonplace observations, which are well established in the history of economic thought even if they haven't yet reached Tim Worstall. The irony is that Worstall does a disservice to the cause of free markets by turning it into an absolute principle to be pursued even when demonstrably against the public interest. 

The principle of preserving museums in good times and bad is inviolable, and the eternal public benefit is beyond measure. Detroit's museum makes great works of art available not only to their hundreds of thousands of visitors, but in principle to the entire world. Anyone can go and freely get access to see them. Selling them off to billionaires diminishes the public sphere, and destroys wealth by any sensible assessment, because the pictures are enjoyed only by a few dozen privileged people rather than anyone. 

Looking at the gain from sale in pure dollar terms is misleading. Worstall's theory is that if Detroit is willing to sell a particular picture if it can get at least $1m for it, and a collector pays $10m at auction, then $9m of value has been unlocked. But measuring the social benefit in these terms is wrong, because the marginal benefit of a few million bucks is trivial to the man with a fortune of $10 billion. Economists recognise that the obvious fact that the marginal benefit of an extra dollar is greater to the pauper than to the millionaire. 

A new revenue stream is tapped to the extent that the pictures are sold abroad, but it is humiliating for any nation to resort to selling its cultural treasures abroad to fill its coffers. If pictures are sold to other museums, the public loses to the extent that other pictures not yet in the public domain are not acquired. And if pictures are sold to American billionaires, the money surely could be raised instead by increasing taxes on the very rich. Economists argue about the extent to which marginal increases in taxation are counterproductive, and it's generally accepted that at very high levels tax increases are damaging. But an increase from current relatively low levels in the US would surely be more acceptable than the certain harm arising from selling its cultural patrimony. 

Friday fun

Picture: Telegraph

Connected to neither art history nor grumpiness, but I thought I'd share a lucky second hand bookshop discovery that I enjoyed: A Christmas Cracker, being a commonplace selection by John Julius Norwich, 2005. It looks like his version of a Christmas card, signed and inscribed to the recipients. But instead of the usual twee images, it's a wonderful collection of quotations like this from an official English translation of the Japanese Highway Code:

When a passenger of the foot hove in sight, tootle the horn trumpet to him melodiously at first. If he still obstacles your passage, tootle him with vigour and express by word of mouth the warning, "Hi, Hi".

Go soothingly on the grease-mud, as there lurk the skid demon. Press the brake of the foot as you roll around the corners to save the collapse and tie-up.

Ah  yes, darn that skid-demon! Even more irresistible was this gem from John Betjeman to Miss Jane Boulenger, whom Norwich suspects is - contrary to Betjeman's assumption - not in fact French:

Chere M'lle

J'ai correcte les typescrips. A la meme temps j'ai made a list of suitable illustrations que je suis keeping pour aide memoire quand nous come to review le whole libre.

C'est tres important pour emphasise au le Major que les illustrations sont tres importants, aussi make-up. J'implore lui ne settez anything up in type until we discuss format et whether je suis going to be allowed couleur aussi whether le libre est not trop plein de discontent & sur la meme note. Aussi comme far ce serai possible departer from photographs.

Au revoir

Sean O'betjeman [sic, passim]

All wonderful stuff.

German Paintings in the Met

Picture: Amazon

Maryan W. Ainsworth and Joshua P. Materman et al German Paintings in the Metropolitan Museum of Art, 1650-1600 Metropolitan Museum of Art/Yale University Press 2013

This is a superb museum catalogue. Brief introduction on the collection, substantive entries on the pictures, good technical information and bibliography. Above all, it's judicious in its assessment of condition and generally balanced on questions of attribution. The greatest problem with museum catalogues is that they are often too uncritical. Some of the catalogues of London's National Gallery are utterly unreliable on questions of condition, believing every wreck to be 'well preserved'. Other catalogues are too optimistic on attribution. I thought the discussion of Holbein and Cranach in this catalogue especially good, rightly downgrading a number of good (but not quite good enough) pictures from Holbein to his studio. The analysis of the Met's Cranachs is also well-reasoned, although it's not a field I'm sufficiently familiar with to comment with any authority. However, I found the discussion of Durer's* Virgin and Child with St Anne (below) more problematic.

Picture: Metropolitan Museum of Art

The catalogue explains that this picture is in much better condition than is generally realised. It also points out that it's on panel, not transferred to canvas as many others have stated (surprising how often errors like this creep in and become firmly established through repetition). The catalogue firmly asserts Durer's authorship, but notes that Claus Grimm questioned it. Grimm is a scholar I admire greatly, but he is renowned for his connoisseurial parsimony. His splendid book on Frans Hals significantly reduces the corpus from Seymour Slive's earlier catalogue, and disputes the celebrated Merrymakers at Shrovetide in the Met - a challenge too quickly dismissed in Walter Liedtke's catalogue of the Met's Dutch pictures. This catalogue again dismisses Grimm without discussing the basis of his challenge, but what particularly piqued my interest was that an endnote points out that Christian Wolf's magnificent recent book on Durer also questions the attribution. It seems wrong to me that this wasn't brought out in the main text. The brusque dismissal of dissenting scholars makes me more sceptical, and I am not satisfied that this catalogue sufficiently establishes the case for Durer's authorship. Whoever painted it, it's one of the most important German paintings in America and merits a longer and fuller discussion than it receives in this catalogue.

Another quibble is that deaccessioned works are mentioned only in a checklist. The Met is notorious for flogging things it's bored by so they can buy shiny new things. Their choices are sometimes spectacularly inept, like this unrecognised Rubens recently sold. It would be helpful if the catalogue included brief entries on deaccessioned works, to give a fuller sense of the collection's history, and to enable independent assessment of their trading strategy.

Quibbles aside, I greatly enjoyed this valuable work on an outstanding and comprehensive collection of German art.

* I can't work out how to do umlauts, or accents, in Blogger and Duerer just looks wrong. Grateful if anyone can help? 

Laura Knight

Picture: Public Catalogue Foundation

My enjoyment of this lovely show was out of proportion to its quality. Laura Knight is a pleasant but not great artist. Some of the pictures are rather bad. So why did I enjoy the show so much? I liked its modesty, a small scale display of a variety of works. I liked the surprise of discovering an artist of whom I was only dimly aware. And I really liked some of the pictures. The World War II propaganda pictures are much better than I expected, some of the more experimental early pictures are striking and she was a good portraitist. She is said to be relatively neglected because she eschewed modernism and fell out of tune with the times, but she flirted with impressionism and tried out different styles and techniques. Laura Knight will stand the test of time better than many second rate modernists whose techniques were more radical but whose pictures were less good.

Her most innovative picture was of the Nuremberg Trial, but I don't think it works. I didn't care much for the Gypsy paintings, and the portrait of George Bernard Shaw is dreadful, but we can grant her some off-days. Knight was at her best as a more conventional portraitist. I don't mean to damn with faint praise when I say she was a technically competent artist, because there is much to enjoy in her technical competence. I've noticed that almost all the reviews have concentrated on her life rather than her art. She wrote two volumes of autobiography that I look forward to reading, and there's a new biography coming out soon.  It's hard to write about the good later portraits because their virtues are rather conventional - but do go along and enjoy them on their own terms. 

I'm quite tired of the endless round of predictable shows of great artists (Titian, Vermeer, Rembrandt ... again and again and again). They rarely show us anything new - in fact you can rarely see anything at all through the crowds. Small exhibitions of less familiar and less great artists can be much more rewarding - pleasing in their own right, and giving a deeper appreciation of the greatest artists by enriching our understanding of their context. This is one of the most enjoyable exhibitions I've been to in a long time. Congratulations to the NPG for doing it so well.

My only real disappointment was the catalogue, an outrageous £25 for a flimsy brochure. I had to have it because I'm an incorrigible bibliophile and I wanted a permanent record of pictures that were new to me. It's fine as far as it goes and the pictures are good, but the introduction comes to about eight pages of text padded out with a supplementary timeline, and the catalogue entries are rarely more than a paragraph. The bibliography (sorry, 'further reading' - they're trying to be accessible) looks excellent and I'm going to follow up my new interest in Laura Knight, but I would have hoped that those sources together with the surfeit of acknowledgments could have been a basis for a more substantive catalogue. The material here would better be presented in a cheaper handbook.

The exhibition is well displayed with good wall text and pictures that show a range of style, technique and quality. The gripe about the catalogue aside, this is a splendid show. 

Interesting links

As Detroit goes bust, here's Virginia Postrel's argument that they should sell their art. Profoundly wrong and not well reasoned, but provocative and worth thinking about. She confuses an argument for sending art where it will be seen by most people with an argument for letting the market decide where art goes. Either argument is tenable, but she can't decide which she's making:
http://www.bloomberg.com/news/2013-06-06/detroit-s-van-gogh-would-be-better-off-in-l-a-.html

Leander buys a bear. Great blog post about buying art on a budget:
http://theidlewoman.blogspot.co.uk/2013/07/artists-in-focus-derek-chambers.html

Bad decision by CofE (aren't they all?). Excellent common-sense demolition of convoluted reasoning by Church court:
http://www.arthistorynews.com/articles/2315_Curious_judgement_allows_church_to_sell_285m_painting

I'm delighted that Hull has acquired this Lorenzetti, but scared that they've sent it to the National Gallery for cleaning:
 http://www.guardian.co.uk/artanddesign/jonathanjonesblog/2013/jul/16/pietro-lorenzetti-christ-saint-paul-saint-peter?INTCMP=SRCH

Not an art story, but I loved this interview with Anthony Grafton. Now I want a stuffed crocodile:
http://www.thedailybeast.com/articles/2013/07/17/anthony-grafton-how-i-write.html

Rembrandt? Probably...

Picture: Public Catalogue Foundation

One of the Rembrandt rooms at the National Gallery has been re-hung because the great portraits Jacob Trip and Margaretha de Geer, wife of Jacob Trip are on loan to the Frans Hals Museum. A couple of weeks ago I noticed that this smaller portrait of Margaretha de Geer (above) was listed as 'Attributed to Rembrandt'. I queried it at the information desk because I remembered it as being called simply 'Rembrandt'. I was surprised by the change, partly because I think it's by Rembrandt, and partly because the NG Director has said that he doesn't like using the term 'Attributed'.

I was impressed to get an email shortly after, giving me the full history of its labeling at the NG and sending me the entry on the picture from Art in the Making: Rembrandt. They confirmed that it was previously given to Rembrandt, and they've now updated the label to 'Probably by Rembrandt'. I think the avoidance of the term 'attributed' is silly, and I think the portrait is by Rembrandt, but on this occasion I think the new label is spot on. The NG is right to reflect scholarly dissent about the attribution, but also the balance of probability towards Rembrandt. Certain technical aspects of the picture are atypical of Rembrandt, and it rather pales beside the awesome power of the finished portrait, usually shown in the same room. But no other artist has come so close to capturing Rembrandt's late manner, and this is a very accomplished picture. The NG website still lists it as 'Attributed to Rembrandt'.

The portraits currently out on loan usually hang on a narrow wall at the end of a long room, which is exactly the wrong place for them. You need to be able to see them from either side to appreciate the brilliance of Rembrandt's artistry. He makes them appear to face towards you from either side, giving a different aspect. They're not meant to be seen only face-on. When they come home I hope they'll be hung on the adjacent wall where pictures by Jacob van Ruisdael and Simon de Vlieger currently hang.

When they were looking for the picture at the information desk they accidentally gave me a sneak preview of future loans, so I got advance notice of their Late Rembrandt exhibition and I know some of the pictures they're getting ... but I'm not going to tell.

Incidentally when I was looking for an image for the blog I came across this Mythological Scene on the Public Catalogue Foundation website. It's actually a copy of Rembrandt's Diana Bathing with Actaeon and Callisto. 

American collectors of Spanish Art, and other recently read books

Inger Reist and Jose Luis Colomer (eds) Collecting Spanish Art: Spain's Golden Age and America's Gilded Age Frick Collection 2012

I like Spanish art, I'm interested in the history of art collecting and I'm fascinated by America's gilded age. This is clearly a book for me. It covers the period from 1870 to 1930 when the American economy grew rapidly and the new plutocrats built up wonderful collections of European art. Three parts cover the developing American taste for Spanish art, the great collectors of Spanish art and the great Spanish artists that were collected. Inevitably there's a degree of repetition, but it's a price worth paying for the insights arising from the shifting perspective between collectors and artists.

I'm not convinced by the premise that there was a 'Spanish turn' in American art collecting in the late nineteenth and early twentieth century, as Richard L. Kagan claims in the opening chapter of this book. The thesis is asserted with reference to the interest shown in Spain and in Spanish art, which I grant, but the relative neglect of other schools must be proven to make the case for a uniquely special interest in Spanish art. The great collectors bought fabulous Spanish paintings, but they bought fabulous Italian, Dutch and British pictures too. But no matter; the book's discussion of collecting Spanish art is fascinating. 

I especially enjoyed Susan Grace Galassi's chapter on Frick's Spanish art, which tells the story of his pursuit of famous paintings still in the Frick, his pursuit of others that got away, and a couple that were sold from the collection. There are two chapters on collecting of Murillo, but none on El Greco, which is a lamentable lacuna because America's gilded age coincided with El Greco's rehabilitation as one the greatest Spanish artists (albeit Spanish by residence rather than birth). American museums are therefore well endowed with El Grecos. Still, a fascinating book overall with lots of interesting information that was new to me.

Picture: Amazon

Mary-Anne Garry Wealthy Masters - 'provident and kind': The Household at Holkham 1697-1842 Larks Press 2012

I came across this book by chance in a second hand bookshop. It's from a small press, and hasn't had the attention it deserves. Holkham is one of the most wonderful English country houses, and I greatly enjoyed this social history of 'upstairs, downstairs' relationships, drawing on a rich seam of primary sources in the Holkham archives. Mary-Anne Garry describes a process of professionalisation when servants shifted from being regarded as part of the extended family to being seen (and seeing themselves) as professionals with more demarcated duties. She has an eye for good anecdotes. I was especially drawn to the account of travelling between Holkham and London - a couple of hours' drive today, but a major expedition in the eighteenth century. And in a crass instance of Georgian 'bling', Holkham's exterior windows were gilded in 1777, at a cost of a thousand pounds. There's lots more of interest in this fine book - well worth buying.

Picture: Amazon

Peter Hart The Great War Profile Books 2013

Lots of books are coming out for the centenary of World War I. I'm always suspicious of books rushed out for anniversaries, but those I've read so far have been excellent. This one's a corker. Peter Hart is the Oral Historian at the Imperial War Museum, and this narrative history is brought to life with extensive quotations from soldier's letters. He is relatively forgiving of the conduct of Allied military leadership, in line with the tenor of recent scholarship, but against the grain of cultural memory (e.g. Blackadder Goes Forth). This book is intellectually serious, but it's also a great read.

Picture: History Today

Anthony Pagden Enlightenment and why it still matters Oxford University Press 2013

Pagden is one of the most brilliant and learned historians of ideas, and I'd looked forward to this book. It is a highly readable and admirably opinionated book based on a lifetime's scholarship. But it still left me cold. The enlightenment is fated endlessly to be debated, and to be refashioned in the context of current concerns. But Pagden's enlightenment is just too Guardian for my taste - an enlightenment of multiculturalism, secularism and the European Union. I still think it's well worth reading, and the best recent volume on the enlightenment. But it's not enough on its own; you're going to have to read other syntheses and go back to some of the original sources to make sense of it for yourself. If the book provokes you to do that, it's succeeded admirably.