by Patrick Kerkstra, Inquirer Suburban Staff
October 22, 2000
The financially troubled Barnes Foundation is
considering reviving one of the most controversial, and successful, ideas
in its recent history: touring works from its renowned
collection.
But, unlike the blockbuster world tour of Barnes
masterpieces in the mid-1990s, this time the foundation is dusting off
pieces stashed away in basement storage, a Chester County farmhouse, and a
suite of private offices.
For 45 years, these pieces - including
ancient Greek and Egyptian artifacts, rare early-American decorative
artworks, and dozens of paintings by important 19th- and 20th-century
artists - have gone unseen and unstudied by few but Barnes
insiders.
"They're quality works," said Kimberly Camp, executive
director of the Barnes. "Some would be any other museum's major works, and
if we can find a way to effectively use them to further the Barnes
mission, then there's no reason we shouldn't do it."
This "lost" art of the Barnes, as Camp calls it, is just a tiny fraction of
the Merion gallery's collection. Most of the holdings, and all of the true
masterpieces, are already on display in the foundation gallery.
But even this small sliver of the collection is noteworthy. Stored at
Ker-Feal, the foundation's Chester County farmstead, is a decorative-arts
collection that independent museum consultant Prudence Haines calls
spectacular. Hung almost haphazardly throughout the Barnes administrative
offices are dozens of important paintings by artists such as Gustave
Courbet, Maurice Prendergast, Jules Pascin, Chaim Soutine and William
Glackens.
"What was most memorable for me is the wonderful
collection of Pascin," said Derek Gillman, dean of the Pennsylvania
Academy of the Fine Arts. "It's a collection that would be a major
component for any museum, and it's very exciting to see them just hanging
around the administrative offices."
The foundation staff has begun only recently to evaluate seriously this
unseen side of its collection. No outside scholars have closely studied
these paintings at least since founder Albert C. Barnes' death in 1951,
so the staff is unsure how the art world will regard these holdings.
"Some of [the works] are incredible and some may not be," Camp said.
"But we need them to see the light of day so this evaluation can occur."
Despite the uncertainty, the Barnes' leaders have reached the potentially
controversial decision that this "lost" art could help the nearly broke
foundation regain its financial footing.
But there are reasons to doubt a "lost" art tour could solve the
foundation's significant financial problems.
First, it is unlikely that these lesser holdings would
attract the same intense interest that the tour of the Barnes masterpieces
did. Because so little is known about these works, it is unclear whether
there would be a demand for them.
Several outside experts said they weren't familiar enough with the paintings
to gauge potential interest, but Gillman believes there would be at
least some, in part because of the Barnes' reputation.
"It was clear from the last tour that anything to do with the Barnes excites
interest," Gillman said. "And also, the quality is high. It's not as if what
they have is thin."
Second, there is the serious question of whether Barnes would have wanted these
holdings to leave their quiet resting places. His indenture, which legally
binds the foundation, states that "all the paintings shall remain in
exactly the places they are at the time of the death of donor and his said
wife." Other provisions in the indenture are designed to prevent works in
the collection from being lent to other institutions.
Yet many of the works under consideration were moved from Barnes' home and office
shortly after his death. Camp is uncertain whether the "lost" art is part
of the "collection" Barnes restricted.
Ultimately, that decision would have to be made by the Montgomery County
Orphans Court, which has jurisdiction over the Barnes estate. The court
permitted the mid-1990s tour, which brought $17 million to the foundation,
but as a one-time-only event.
If the Barnes can persuade the court that another exception is warranted,
foundation leaders say even a modestly successful tour could
help the foundation stave off potential insolvency.
That threat became widely known just last month after a decade of rising costs and
expensive litigation drained the Barnes' endowment. The foundation is
putting most of its efforts into an $85 million fund-raising campaign
announced in September, but officials are also seeking other options, such
as the possible tour, to raise Barnes income.
The prospect of learning more about these hidden holdings intrigues outside
scholars.
Little is known, for example, about a rare and
potentially important 2,700-year-old Greek funeral urn stored below the
main gallery. The Barnes collection of colorful painted pottery by French
filmmaker Jean Renoir, son of painter Pierre-Auguste Renoir, may be
unique.
"It's not like there are 100 Matisses or anything like
that, but there is the famous [Giorgio] de Chirico portrait of Barnes
himself, and then there's a big Courbet of great distinction hanging on
the stairs," said Joseph Rishel, a senior curator at the Philadelphia
Museum of Art. "But there is a lot there I know very little
about."
There is much the Barnes itself does not know about its
holdings. In fact, the foundation is not entirely sure what it
owns.
No complete inventory of the Barnes collection has ever been
made, much less a detailed catalogue.
Some of the money the foundation seeks in its new fund-raising campaign
would be used for a "collections-assessment project," foundation conservator
Barbara Buckley said.
The $3 million project would fund a complete inventory, make
digital and film images of the entire collection, and provide for a
conservation assessment as well as limited scholarship on several unique
areas of the collection.
In the meantime, important and valuable holdings are not properly cared for, Camp said.
There is no money to appropriately store or clean the fine Oriental rugs in many
of the rooms.
There is no budget to buy even inexpensive desks and chairs,
so employees sit on Chippendale chairs and stack books on early-American
tables that would be better suited in Independence Hall.
"Given their [the employees'] circumstances, they are as aware as they possibly
can be of the things they are literally working around," Haines said. "But
it shouldn't be used in offices like this. Anywhere else it would be on
display or in storage.
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