|
Burried Treasure: Dig up ways to make
the Barnes accessible and financially sound -
before it's too late.
Philadelphia Inquirer, September 16, 2000
Albert Coombes Barnes was a cantankerous old coot, but he knew his art.
The Kensington-born eyewash tycoon assembled one of the world's most astounding
art collections. It contains 2,500 pieces, including priceless impressionist and
post-impressionist paintings and caches of African American and primitive American
Indian art.
Like Cezannes? Barnes had 69 of them. Taking a not-too-wild guess, the entire
collection is valued at $6 billion.
Oh, what joy, what rapture, what good fortune then that this unequaled collection
resides in the Philadelphia region, embraced by the grateful arms of Lower Merion
Township, where it welcomes thousands of visitors each week.
Yeah, right.
Today, in fact, the Barnes collection is a prime example of all the horrid things
that can be done by bad management, quarrelsome neighbors and huge egos (including
Albert Barnes' own).
Rather than succeeding as the art mecca it deserves to be, the Barnes collection
and the foundation that owns it are in such financial straits that the
once-unthinkable - breaking up the collection and removing it to another site or
sites - now seems possible.
Things are so bad, says executive director Kimberly Camp, that the foundation may
not be able to cover basic expenses within a year.
Is this note of alarm just another clever cash pitch?
It's hard to know for sure, but it does seem the foundation is in real trouble.
It has used up its $10 million endowment and is running $500,000 in the hole this
year. That's quite a comedown from 1994, when an international Barnes collection
tour wowed the world and brought in $17 million. Only $5 million of that remains,
in court-ordered escrow, with the rest spent on needed renovations and ... what?
Art lovers and charitable foundations - potential donors - are watching grimly,
wondering how it got so bad, how it can be fixed and, indeed, if it is wise to toss
millions more at a foundation that got itself into such a mess.
The core question: Should keeping the Barnes collection intact be a priority?
Understand that Mr. Barnes never intended a museum, but rather a unique school of
art appreciation with limited outside visitors. Agitated neighbors have seen to
it that at most 1,200 outsiders a week see its treasures.
Should those works be freed from a dead man's clutches and given back to a larger
art world that would love to display and appreciate them? Some think so, but a
strong argument can be made that the collection and its unique setting are worth
an effort to preserve.
The collection, housed on the tycoon's grand Main Line estate, is precisely laid
out to teach his theories about the universality of all art, from Navajo blankets
to Monets. Works are hung so that the foundation's 100-plus students and 1,200
weekly visitors - a cap set by Lower Merion Township to appease the Barnes'
well-to-do neighbors - can learn to appreciate all art by comparing light, line,
color, shape and form.
This "Barnesian" method of art education is taught only one place in the
world - here. If the collection collapses, the Philadelphia region will never
live down an international conclusion that it is peopled by tooth-picking cultural
yahoos who stupidly threw away one of the world's great art gems.
So, yes, the first priority is to see whether the Barnes collection and foundation
can find stable fiscal ground.
But before donors pull out their checkbooks, the Barnes must convince them that
its management is now as good as its art. Many of the fiscal woes seem to stem
from mismanagement by former foundation president Richard Glanton. He once did
well by convincing Montgomery County Orphan's Court to allow the 1994 world tour,
which violated restrictions of Albert Barnes' will.
But he also bullheadedly engaged in lawsuits against Lower Merion officials
and residents that apparently cost the Barnes millions. Still, the new management
must now do more than just blame Mr. Glanton to explain precisely how the Barnes
ran into the red. How, for instance, did the Barnes get by in the late '80s
when it charged $1 admission and had a $1 million budget? Now admission is $5;
the budget, $2.5 million.
The Barnes needs to do some good-faith cost-cutting and provide a guarantee that
it will never empty its piggybank - its endowment - again.
Other remedies - even radical ones - should be considered. If old Mr. Barnes'
ego-driven wishes could be waived by the court once, they can be again. Another
tour might be contemplated. Perhaps some of the works - say those 69 Cezannes -
could be moved to a more accessible local venue for a one-month show.
The Barnes also has valuable works in storage, seen by no one at all. Barnes
probably meant to hang them, until he ran a stop sign in 1951 and was killed.
Despite cries of outrage, it might be necessary to sell some of those unseen
works to build the endowment.
As for Lower Merion and the Barnes' neighbors who have fought tooth and claw
against any increase in visitors, they should meet with some of the many
European and Asian visitors who journey to the Barnes each year. They should
try to explain why they seem to hate having one of the world's great art
treasures in their neighborhood - one that takes care to shield visitor traffic
from public view. The Barnes' visitors are not a crowd of rock fans, relieving
themselves in the bushes. If upping the visitor limit would ease the fiscal
crunch, it's time to negotiate that.
Most cities in the world would kill to have the Barnes. Let's try treating it
like a treasure instead of, as some have, a toxic dump.
|
300 North Latch's Lane
![](images/"shim.gif"){kind=spacer}
