February 4, 2009

Coming up Roses

Last month Brandeis University announced that it would close the Rose Art Museum, one of the most respected collections of post-war American art in the country. Roberta Smith wrote a thoughtful piece, which I encourage you to read here. A personal chord was struck, as I read about how the Rose been a responsible entity, raising its own funds, supporting its own programming and even, seemingly, paying an onerous tithe to Brandeis. For all that hard work it will be closed.

What will its students do without original objects from which to study? As one of my favorite professors says, “It is always the object which asks the question; you can only get so far with theory and abstractions.” What would my own education have been like without the resources of the Clark Art Institute, Mass MoCA and, most importantly, the Williams College Museum of Art, where I led tours for three years, and worked in the curatorial and education departments each summer? What if I had never interacted with original objects in the study rooms of each place, never held a Rembrandt etching, or lectured next to a Degas pastel? Would I ever have pursued work in museums? Or would I have ended up in law school or on Wall Street like so many of my classmates? (That would have been much kinder to my finances!)

Much has been said about how the administration’s decision is short-sighted and akin to cannibalizing itself. There goes the art history program! No more studio projects! And, donors? Well, they’ll be less likely to give ever again—to the university or the Rose, if it’s saved, because who knows what might happen during the next fiscal crisis. What will be next? Will Brandeis auction off books, buildings, and donor portraits? It’s incredibly disheartening to see acts of philanthropy completely turned on their heads. I doubt that the men and women who donated paintings worth $5,000 in 1962 did so because they thought, “I sure hope this Lichtenstein appreciates and that they’ll be able to sell it to a private collection in 2009 for millions of dollars.” No, they donated original works of art because they are unique, important contributions to the field. If those donors had wanted Brandeis to have the cash they would have written a check, which is significantly easier to transport, believe me.

What hasn’t been talked about is the failings of the staff of the Rose. On one hand, they are victims in that they were given absolutely no notice or say about the closing, and are now unemployed in a difficult economy in an extremely difficult field. On the other hand, one of the primary jobs of a university museum is to make itself one of the most priceless resources on campus. It’s not just another library or laboratory; it’s a living breathing space in which students and faculty from all disciplines can interact with historical documents. In Smith’s article the director discusses how many objects are on tour and how many millions of people see the Rose’s art annually. These are the kinds of statistics important to a large civic institution that must justify its existence to a skeptical public. For a university museum the mandate is much narrower. Those objects on tour should be on campus. Curators should be collaborating with faculty to create exhibitions that cross disciplinary lines and tap into the interests of the most students possible, not boasting about sending resources around the world.

In 1997 I spent a formative summer on the Brandeis University campus. My days were spent in theater rehearsals and writing workshops, and learning the foundations of Judaism that have served me much of my adult life. The Rose was closed all summer for renovations, and I never got to peek inside. Instead I had the opportunity to travel to the Museum of Fine Arts, Boston, where I encountered a room full of John Singer Sargents and decided right then and there that I wanted to work in museums. The Rose would always be there I thought; I’ll visit some day. That doesn’t appear to be the case.