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Shame on me. I have lived in Philadelphia for over ten years and have never been to the Barnes Collection! Up to this point, I was convinced it should stay where it is, but having now seen the place, I have changed my mind. Here’s why: I realized that it is not a particularly interesting historic house, but a custom built museum without much charm, so why not design a building better suited to the task of accommodating an art audience? And, if it moved, it would have to get its act together and stop messing around. Is it a social service or a museum? It seems to be terribly run – and I have worked in Visitor Services in Museums. Yes, I am a people person. There is something annoying from the get go: the signage sucks, gruff guards demand tickets – that’s so Philly! – people from bus groups congregate in the foyer without a clue of what to do next. Staff shouts at them. They eventually amble into the large main room which quickly becomes intolerably overcrowded, everyone looking up at the walls with their headphones on. (I’ve never understood why the unwashed need a soundtrack to look at paintings. Pictures don’t talk.) There is no map if you don’t want the audio! However there is a guide inside each room, so you can get a little info on the pictures besides simply the artist’s name. Did I mention there is nowhere to eat or drink? Did Barnes not have a kitchen? I was starving the whole time. Didn’t Barnes know that every historic house in England has a tea shop in the basement with buttered scones? I took a quick look at the jumble of paintings as they vie for your attention. Cezanne’s Card Players wisely ignores the people. It is important to see the picture, but it is surrounded by hundreds of other unrelated works, all rather damned good. Together, however, the room becomes a cavalcade of stuffy Impressionism. My initial impulse was to flee and find some quiet, less full rooms. Here, on a small scale, I find how Barnes really worked: He dispensed with all hierarchical gauging of the art. It hangs willy-nilly with bits of hardware, utensils, and furniture as if he didn’t have a clue. Folk art is interspersed with modern masterpieces. I was shocked, I tell you. Paintings are jammed into every cranny, fitted up next to fire extinguishers! It is fun walking through and spotting little gems everywhere. Of course, they were not the things I expected to find. Little Courbets here and there and a few fabulous Corots, his underrated ladies series. That is what I call painting! There are loads of fab Fauvist works – it’s always worth seeing Fauvists. Things make more sense as the “primitive” collection has a conversation with the Western art, which it influenced. Close by are several Lipchitz sculptures -- I like Lipchitz and I like saying Lipchitz. Then I look down and realize they are being used as doorstops. It has to be said the more the rooms looked like cluttered antique shops the better I liked it. There is a beautiful subdued and famous painting of a woman by Lautrec. She stares blankly out of the picture and across the room, past a knock-out Matisse and apparently at the thermostat. Barnes may have had an eye for outstanding works of certain periods, especially Seurat and Cezanne, but Renoir predominates for some reason. Is it because tourists love Renoir? They are all soft and mushy and mostly blue. The guy was a populist if nothing else. Though he was well read and wrote several books on art, he managed to keep it all at a Reader’s Digest level as if that would fly in the face of academic authority. This is what is wrong here: I’m no fan of curatorial dictatorialness but this place needs it badly. Oh, and a staff that understands art and art viewers. Yes, there are many glaring problems with the hanging but more to do with the administration. I admit to hearing all about their tales of money woes and trouble with the neighbors, but all I saw was a pretty tree-lined street with a hard to find museum. It is actually tucked away near a place I know well, so I imagine they are trying to keep it hidden for some reason. There is ample street parking – most people seem to arrive on huge tour buses – so I don’t know what all the fuss is about. However, if I had any bias toward the Barnes before visiting, it didn’t get in the way of enjoying the paintings, if not the experience. By the time you leave, you are a bit confused
and definitely hungry, which may be a result of the great subliminal collection
of kitchen cutlery. Thankfully, there is a fantastic Jewish deli in nearby
Bala. © 2007James Rosenthal and InLiquid.com; images copyright © The Barnes Foundation |
