The Collector as Purist

It takes a good deal of self-confidence to excel in the art world. Whether as artist, curator, critic, dealer or collector, trusting one's instincts to the point of believing in one's own superior judgement is not a rare trait among those who claw their way to the top. Not in any field actually. But in the art business, where what gets elevated/celebrated often goes on to represent a generation's values and priorities for (more or less) eternity, such confidence misplaced or misapplied can lead to embarassing legacies and handicapping stipulations that don't serve the art (or its future viewers) nearly as much as they do the ego of the stipulator. Again, this applies across the board, but as the title will have told you, I'm singling out collectors for today's tirade.

Now I've been lucky enough to view the collections of some of today's most brilliant collectors, true visionaries with knowledge far beyond my own and a breathtaking grasp of what their collections means. I've seen collections that reflect a finger on the pulse of contemporary art so acute that it's crossed my mind how some of today's biggest biennales could have benefitted by including these collectors on their curating teams. In other words, there are collectors who do indeed have superior judgement.

But like any authority, the wider a collector goes on to cast their net, the less likely it is they'll be as successful/insightful across their entire catch. And given that, the more particular they are about how their collection is accessed by the public (if it eventually is), the less likely it is they're actually serving the public as much as they think they are.

Consider Charles Lang Freer [pictured above]. In an article in today's Wall Street Journal (which upon searching I must conclude isn't online yet), Milo Beach notes how the self-made railroad magnate donated his 2,500 works of art (including the world's largest collection of work by Whistler and reportedly the US's first [or second] most important collection of Asian art [depending on whether you ask the MFA in Boston or not]) to the Smithsonian Institution with some rather stringent conditions attached [retyped by yours truly...all typos mine]:

The gift took four years of negotiations and the strong support of President Theodore Roosevelt and Alexander Graham Bell. Despite extraordinarily generous terms, the collection seemed eccentric to Washington officials of the time, and it came with restrictions that would today be unacceptable. For example, only objects owned by the gallery could be shown within its walls, and there could be no loans to other institutions. [...] By refusing to allow loans from the collection, Freer sought to ensure that the works would always be available in Washington for any interested visitor, for whose use he also assembled a major research library. As the museum world changed, however, the gallery, unable to participate in major international exhibitions, became known as a scholarly retreat. This meant that the arts of Asia had a very limited public presence within the national museum system in Washington.

The article discusses how the gallery has worked to compensate for these restrictions (building the Sackler next door has helped, as have educational programs and public presentations), but the overall impact of Freer's insistence on his own particular vision for the gallery has been to limit its usefulness as a public institution.

But here's where all this reconfirms my own opinions on the matter. Although Freer stipluated that no additions to the American section of his collection were permitted, he was indeed such an expert in Asian art that the knew his Asian collection was incomplete and agreed that important objects could be added to that section after his death. The problem with his assumption regarding the importance of his American choices, though, is neatly reflected by the central place therein of works by Thomas Wilmer Dewing and Dwight Tyron.

"Who?" you're thinking.

Exactly.

Now I'm a big fan of eclectic/eccentric collections (one of my favorites by a gallerist friend includes only works by anonymous artists, with every choice made based on quality alone), and of course the greatest pleasure in collecting is how it reflects one's own personal tastes. But once a collection is donated to the public, I feel certain considerations (e.g., the collector most likely can't actually see the future) should encourage collectors to be as flexible as possible with restrictions. Purism in a private collection is actually a good thing, IMO. Purism in a public collection is not as much a service as it is a self-portrait/monument. Interesting for a limited period of time, perhaps, but hardly the gift that keeps on giving as generously as it might for eternity.