The new, new MFA

 

Six months after opening the Art of the Americas Wing, the museum keeps tweaking, adding pieces, and thinking big
When the Museum of Fine Arts opened its $500 million Art of the Americas Wing six 
They had decided to do months ago, its leaders knew they were taking a gamble.more than simply play to the MFA’s (considerable) strengths: East Coast artists, furniture makers, and silversmiths of the 17th through early 20th centuries.
They wanted to tell a much bigger story, one that would take in South and Central America, Native American cultures, and the rest of North America. The initial name, “American Wing,’’ was changed to “Art of the Americas Wing.’’
They knew that in some areas (modern art, artists of color), its permanent collection was not quite what it might be, and that in others (Spanish colonial art, Native American art), it was not even close.
But the leadership team hoped that the new building, its ample space, and the full commitment of its curatorial staff would attract gifts, loans, and other opportunities, and that, over time, these would help flesh out the bigger story they were trying to tell.
Six months down the track, how is that plan working out?
Very little happens at top speed in museums. But the signs are good. Parts of the display that struck people as surprisingly strong, such as art from the ancient Americas, have prompted offers from collectors wanting to contribute.
And reaction to parts that seemed patchy, such as the Level 3 gallery for large-scale modern art, have prodded the MFA to think about different approaches.
In PR terms, the bigger gamble already seems to have paid off. A review of the new wing from Holland Cotter in The New York Times described it as “a wow,’’ and Christopher Knight in the Los Angeles Times called it “impressive’’ and “dramatic.’’
Earlier this month, the wing was named the year’s “outstanding permanent collection new installation (or reinstallation)’’ by the Association of Art Museum Curators.
Since the launch, MFA attendance has shot up by 50 percent. Admission and membership revenue have increased by 25 percent. And more than 7,000 tours of the new wing have been conducted by MFA curators and gallery instructors.
The praise, of course, has not come without reservations. Critics have pointed to gaps in the collection. Particularly trenchant criticism was reserved for the Level 3 hang of large-scale 20th-century paintings and sculptures.
A “fiasco . . . flatly dreadful,’’ wrote Knight in the LA Times — and he was not a lone voice.
Elliot Bostwick Davis, head of the Art of the Americas department, has taken such criticisms to heart. She is spirited in her defense of the hang even as she offers explanations for its deficiencies. But she has not let criticism of the Level 3 central gallery distract her from other priorities, such as filling gaps in the museum’s holdings in Spanish colonial and Latin American art.
Davis, who exudes a warm intelligence and politesse, is a stickler for details. On a walk through the wing last week, for instance, she worried about reflections from the colored neon lights of Dale Chihuly’s installation in the Shapiro Family Courtyard because they interfere with distant views of John Singer Sargent’s prominently placed masterpiece “The Daughters of Edward Darley Boit.’’ She noticed scuff marks on an awkwardly positioned plinth in the 19th-century folk art gallery. And she talked candidly about various problems with labels.
Since 2001, when Davis arrived at the MFA and began, with Malcolm Rogers, planning the new wing, more than 1,500 objects have been acquired by the Art of the Americas department (3,000 if you include a collection of coins; more still if you include objects collected by other departments, such as musical instruments, or prints and drawings).
Even so, when the wing opened in November, Davis and Rogers both repeatedly emphasized that it was a work in progress.
They knew that some areas remained weak, even with the new acquisitions — about 500 of which are on display — and despite the many temporary loans used to flesh out the displays.
The single gallery given over to Spanish colonial art, for instance, would have looked very bare without loans from the Cisneros Foundation. But it did boast one marvelous new acquisition, a 1754 portrait of an archbishop of Mexico by the great Miguel Cabrera.
“We were all excited to get to Nov. 20,’’ Kelly L’Ecuyer, a curator of decorative arts and sculpture, told me. “But [the wing] is not sitting still. We have to deal with rotations, loans, and flurries of offers.’’
Changes to the display are made on an almost daily basis. And a number of new acquisitions have entered the collection since the opening.
One important group of objects, given in December, includes a large wooden sculpture of a racetrack tout — a marvelous piece, full of sly wit — and six weather vanes. (All but one are on view in the folk art gallery.) They are gifts or promised gifts from the collection of Jean and Frederic A. Sharf.
The MFA is also processing a major gift that is already on view in the Spanish colonial gallery. And last August, it received a large grant from the National Endowment for the Humanities to support the MFA’s efforts to acquire more works by American artists of color. The grant has already been used to purchase a secretary by the African-American furniture craftsman Thomas Day.
The response to the galleries displaying art from the ancient Americas, says Davis, has been particularly strong. Seven calls have come in from collectors in the area. The curator, Dorie Reents-Budet, is currently vetting the offers for quality and provenance.
Changes are in the offing, too, in the Level 3 galleries, which are given over to art of the 20th century.
The basic problem with the central gallery devoted to large-scale abstract works is that, even though there are great names (two Pollocks, a Klein, a Guston, and loans of work by Rothko, Stella, and Motherwell) not one of them is a masterpiece. The overall impact is flaccid.
Davis admits that the scale of the gallery is part of the problem. She tactfully describes it as “ambitious for our present 20th-century collections, given that many of our superb holdings in the Lane Collection are small, and when purchased, had to fit in the back of William Lane’s station wagon.’’ The Lane Collection is the most significant gift of modern American art to the MFA.
Right now, she says, the museum is working to finalize the acquisition of a “major Abstract Expressionist’’ piece. It is also considering a recent offer of some 20th-century sculptures.
Knight, in his review, declared that the MFA’s “entire 20th century needs to be rethought, much the way the entire Art of the Americas approach has been.’’
Davis no doubt takes issue with Knight’s sweeping dismissal. But in a carefully worded e-mail, she echoes his conclusion: “We are seeking to rethink our holdings and to be leaders in the presentation of 20th-century art rather than follow more traditional installations of abstract art that one can see at myriad museums around the country.’’
She cites two brilliant Level 3 side galleries that combine painting, decorative arts, and musical instruments to tell the story of the 1920s and ’30s in one, and the ’40s and ’50s in the other, as examples of the kind of alternative thinking she means; also, the (less successful) gallery devoted to the figurative tradition in the 20th century, which Davis says is “an important story that is often left untold at other institutions.’’
What MFA curators are reluctant to admit is that, for a long time, the museum’s leadership showed scant interest in modern art, and sporadic efforts to redress the problem had a half-baked, belated quality.
Davis tries to put a positive spin on it: “Just as the great strengths of our 18th- and early-19th-century collections reflect Boston taste and collecting, so too is that story told in the 20th-century galleries, and we must turn what some perceive as a challenge into opportunities for creativity and collection building.’’
The biggest changes on Level 3 will happen in September when the Linde Family Wing dedicated to contemporary art opens on the other side of the museum.
The line between modern and contemporary is inevitably blurry, and some works, which had been held in reserve for the Linde wing, such as a large Ellsworth Kelly bought with money supplied by Bank of America last year, may end up migrating to the Art of the Americas Wing.
Some of the loans on display in the Art of the Americas Wing’s large central gallery will be returned. And a show of modern art from the MFA will be sent to Italy next year. Both circumstances will force changes Davis hopes to make the most of.
Her team of curators is considering, for instance, “installing a selection of artists such as Jackson Pollock, José Clemente Orozco, Hyman Bloom, Roberto Matta, and David Alfaro Siqueiros, all working in the 1930s, ’40s, and the aftermath of World War II.’’
The idea is a good one: There are real historical connections between those Mexican, Chilean, and US artists, connections that, by connecting north and south, east and west, speak directly to the whole premise of the Art of the Americas Wing.
I recently spent a week in the wing going through all 53 of its galleries. I spent time in the Shapiro Family Courtyard, listened in on conversations among patrons, and spoke with MFA staff.
The experience made me freshly alive to how much about the whole project succeeds — not just passably, but quite brilliantly. There is so much subtlety in the hang, so many surprising connections that speak volumes, and so much variety in the styles of display.
The ambition of the whole undertaking alone is thrilling.

Six months after opening the Art of the Americas Wing, the museum keeps tweaking, adding pieces, and thinking big.

When the Museum of Fine Arts opened its $500 million Art of the Americas Wing six months ago, its leaders knew they were taking a gamble.

They had decided to do more than simply play to the MFA’s (considerable) strengths: East Coast artists, furniture makers, and silversmiths of the 17th through early 20th centuries.

They wanted to tell a much bigger story, one that would take in South and Central America, Native American cultures, and the rest of North America. The initial name, “American Wing,’’ was changed to “Art of the Americas Wing.’’

They knew that in some areas (modern art, artists of color), its permanent collection was not quite what it might be, and that in others (Spanish colonial art, Native American art), it was not even close.

But the leadership team hoped that the new building, its ample space, and the full commitment of its curatorial staff would attract gifts, loans, and other opportunities, and that, over time, these would help flesh out the bigger story they were trying to tell.

Six months down the track, how is that plan working out?

Very little happens at top speed in museums. But the signs are good. Parts of the display that struck people as surprisingly strong, such as art from the ancient Americas, have prompted offers from collectors wanting to contribute.

And reaction to parts that seemed patchy, such as the Level 3 gallery for large-scale modern art, have prodded the MFA to think about different approaches.

In PR terms, the bigger gamble already seems to have paid off. A review of the new wing from Holland Cotter in The New York Times described it as “a wow,’’ and Christopher Knight in the Los Angeles Times called it “impressive’’ and “dramatic.’’

Earlier this month, the wing was named the year’s “outstanding permanent collection new installation (or reinstallation)’’ by the Association of Art Museum Curators.

Since the launch, MFA attendance has shot up by 50 percent. Admission and membership revenue have increased by 25 percent. And more than 7,000 tours of the new wing have been conducted by MFA curators and gallery instructors.

The praise, of course, has not come without reservations. Critics have pointed to gaps in the collection. Particularly trenchant criticism was reserved for the Level 3 hang of large-scale 20th-century paintings and sculptures.

A “fiasco . . . flatly dreadful,’’ wrote Knight in the LA Times — and he was not a lone voice.

Elliot Bostwick Davis, head of the Art of the Americas department, has taken such criticisms to heart. She is spirited in her defense of the hang even as she offers explanations for its deficiencies. But she has not let criticism of the Level 3 central gallery distract her from other priorities, such as filling gaps in the museum’s holdings in Spanish colonial and Latin American art.

Davis, who exudes a warm intelligence and politesse, is a stickler for details. On a walk through the wing last week, for instance, she worried about reflections from the colored neon lights of Dale Chihuly’s installation in the Shapiro Family Courtyard because they interfere with distant views of John Singer Sargent’s prominently placed masterpiece “The Daughters of Edward Darley Boit.’’ She noticed scuff marks on an awkwardly positioned plinth in the 19th-century folk art gallery. And she talked candidly about various problems with labels.

Since 2001, when Davis arrived at the MFA and began, with Malcolm Rogers, planning the new wing, more than 1,500 objects have been acquired by the Art of the Americas department (3,000 if you include a collection of coins; more still if you include objects collected by other departments, such as musical instruments, or prints and drawings).

Even so, when the wing opened in November, Davis and Rogers both repeatedly emphasized that it was a work in progress.

They knew that some areas remained weak, even with the new acquisitions — about 500 of which are on display — and despite the many temporary loans used to flesh out the displays.

The single gallery given over to Spanish colonial art, for instance, would have looked very bare without loans from the Cisneros Foundation. But it did boast one marvelous new acquisition, a 1754 portrait of an archbishop of Mexico by the great Miguel Cabrera.

“We were all excited to get to Nov. 20,’’ Kelly L’Ecuyer, a curator of decorative arts and sculpture, told me. “But [the wing] is not sitting still. We have to deal with rotations, loans, and flurries of offers.’’

Changes to the display are made on an almost daily basis. And a number of new acquisitions have entered the collection since the opening.

One important group of objects, given in December, includes a large wooden sculpture of a racetrack tout — a marvelous piece, full of sly wit — and six weather vanes. (All but one are on view in the folk art gallery.) They are gifts or promised gifts from the collection of Jean and Frederic A. Sharf.

The MFA is also processing a major gift that is already on view in the Spanish colonial gallery. And last August, it received a large grant from the National Endowment for the Humanities to support the MFA’s efforts to acquire more works by American artists of color. The grant has already been used to purchase a secretary by the African-American furniture craftsman Thomas Day.

The response to the galleries displaying art from the ancient Americas, says Davis, has been particularly strong. Seven calls have come in from collectors in the area. The curator, Dorie Reents-Budet, is currently vetting the offers for quality and provenance.

Changes are in the offing, too, in the Level 3 galleries, which are given over to art of the 20th century.

The basic problem with the central gallery devoted to large-scale abstract works is that, even though there are great names (two Pollocks, a Klein, a Guston, and loans of work by Rothko, Stella, and Motherwell) not one of them is a masterpiece. The overall impact is flaccid.

Davis admits that the scale of the gallery is part of the problem. She tactfully describes it as “ambitious for our present 20th-century collections, given that many of our superb holdings in the Lane Collection are small, and when purchased, had to fit in the back of William Lane’s station wagon.’’ The Lane Collection is the most significant gift of modern American art to the MFA.

Right now, she says, the museum is working to finalize the acquisition of a “major Abstract Expressionist’’ piece. It is also considering a recent offer of some 20th-century sculptures.

Knight, in his review, declared that the MFA’s “entire 20th century needs to be rethought, much the way the entire Art of the Americas approach has been.’’

Davis no doubt takes issue with Knight’s sweeping dismissal. But in a carefully worded e-mail, she echoes his conclusion: “We are seeking to rethink our holdings and to be leaders in the presentation of 20th-century art rather than follow more traditional installations of abstract art that one can see at myriad museums around the country.’’

She cites two brilliant Level 3 side galleries that combine painting, decorative arts, and musical instruments to tell the story of the 1920s and ’30s in one, and the ’40s and ’50s in the other, as examples of the kind of alternative thinking she means; also, the (less successful) gallery devoted to the figurative tradition in the 20th century, which Davis says is “an important story that is often left untold at other institutions.’’

What MFA curators are reluctant to admit is that, for a long time, the museum’s leadership showed scant interest in modern art, and sporadic efforts to redress the problem had a half-baked, belated quality.

Davis tries to put a positive spin on it: “Just as the great strengths of our 18th- and early-19th-century collections reflect Boston taste and collecting, so too is that story told in the 20th-century galleries, and we must turn what some perceive as a challenge into opportunities for creativity and collection building.’’

The biggest changes on Level 3 will happen in September when the Linde Family Wing dedicated to contemporary art opens on the other side of the museum.

The line between modern and contemporary is inevitably blurry, and some works, which had been held in reserve for the Linde wing, such as a large Ellsworth Kelly bought with money supplied by Bank of America last year, may end up migrating to the Art of the Americas Wing.

Some of the loans on display in the Art of the Americas Wing’s large central gallery will be returned. And a show of modern art from the MFA will be sent to Italy next year. Both circumstances will force changes Davis hopes to make the most of.

Her team of curators is considering, for instance, “installing a selection of artists such as Jackson Pollock, José Clemente Orozco, Hyman Bloom, Roberto Matta, and David Alfaro Siqueiros, all working in the 1930s, ’40s, and the aftermath of World War II.’’

The idea is a good one: There are real historical connections between those Mexican, Chilean, and US artists, connections that, by connecting north and south, east and west, speak directly to the whole premise of the Art of the Americas Wing.

I recently spent a week in the wing going through all 53 of its galleries. I spent time in the Shapiro Family Courtyard, listened in on conversations among patrons, and spoke with MFA staff.

The experience made me freshly alive to how much about the whole project succeeds — not just passably, but quite brilliantly. There is so much subtlety in the hang, so many surprising connections that speak volumes, and so much variety in the styles of display.

The ambition of the whole undertaking alone is thrilling.