Move on Down the Road

I read with some "amusement" about the latest effort on the part of the Barnes neighbors to try to keep the Barnes Museum in Lower Merion, L. Merion neighbors fight to keep Barnes. Irony, thy name is the Friends of the Barnes:

In a quiet, passionate - but probably futile - campaign, neighbors of the Barnes Foundation soldier on in their battle to keep the world-famous art collection in Merion.

"The political system is skewed toward this thing going to Philadelphia, with no actual basis for it, other than hope and prayer," said Walter Herman, who lives across Latches Lane from the museum grounds.

As Herman; his wife, Nancy, and their Friends of the Barnes organization, with a mailing list of more than 1,000 members, cast about for a strategy to block the move, the foundation is on course to open a new museum five miles away on the Ben Franklin Parkway in late 2009 or early 2010.

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Dr. Barnes' collection must stay where it is, Nancy Herman said, because "these 12 acres in Merion with this building and these paintings in these arrangements are his gift to us."

No actual basis for moving the Barnes? His gift to you? Au contraire! The decision to move the art collection was, at least in part, due to the ugly, protected litigation that raged on in the early 90's between the Foundation and the neighbors over access to the Museum. See, e.g., Now Museum, Now You Don’t. The Barnes claimed that it needed to find ways to increase its endowment and wanted to find ways to increase attendance.

With as much vigor as they are exhibiting now to keep the Barnes in Merion, these same neighbors fought every attempt to expand the visitors to the Museum. They want the Barnes alright -- as their personal enclave. Despite the arguments of the "purists" who want the status quo maintained, as Albert Barnes decreed in his will, I think he wanted the public to have access to his art. As Gresham Riley put it, in The case for moving the Barnes:

Ever since Albert Barnes’s death in 1951, virtually everyone . . . has been in denial about the publics served by the foundation and its programs. As a result, the “walls” around the collection have grown higher and higher, making it an assembly of “private jewels” for a small elite rather than objects for the education of common folk. As has been widely noted, Dr. Barnes’s target audiences were people “who gain their livelihood by daily toil in shops, factories and schools, stores and similar places.” Up to the present, the educational programs in Lower Merion have attracted primarily upper-middle-class ladies of a certain age with a lot of free time, retirees, a few professionals who can afford to leave their offices, and a smattering of art students. Classes, for the most part, have been inconveniently (or conveniently?) scheduled at times when Dr. Barnes’s intended audience are toiling in their shops and factories. From my observations, the profile of visitors to the Barnes collection (as opposed to those enrolled in classes) also fails to match the population in which Barnes was primarily interested, a fact that’s not at all surprising, given the restricted times the collection is open to the public and its location in a posh neighborhood that is not easily accessible.

Discussing its locale, the Washington Post had an article on the Barnes last year, At Philly's Barnes, The Art of Location:

Before beholding the walls blanketed with Renoirs, Cezannes, Matisses, Picassos and other wonders of art, visitors to the Barnes Foundation first have to find the place. Hidden by thick shrubs on a quiet street in a Philadelphia suburb, it's the scavenger-hunt treasure of the art world. Within its surrounding 12 acres are an arboretum and garden, lush with finely landscaped flora. Then there's the building, a French Renaissance limestone beauty. In this era of easy-access museums, the Barnes is clinging to its status as a pilgrimage destination.

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This is fine art in its element: accessible for close-up viewing, displayed in a calm, elegant setting with only a few other observers jostling for a glimpse. . . .

Still, as I wandered the rooms, it was easy to recognize the drawbacks of a place unchanged in the 55 years since the passing of Barnes, the doctor, entrepreneur, art collector and inspiration behind this place.

Dim lighting makes viewing tough. Some of the paintings are hung too high. The wrought-iron fixtures can be more distraction than decoration. The burlap walls don't match the grandeur of the displays. Above all, the paintings bear only the artists' names, lacking dates, titles and other information.

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Outside, I paused to catch the scents and sights of the arboretum. In the fading blue light of an early evening, blue and purple lilacs were just sprouting. The setting -- art, arboretum and all -- makes for one of the country's grandest, if quirkiest, art destinations. Anyone eager to catch a chapter of art history before it ends should go now.

What the WP article doesn't mention is the biggest problem with the Barnes: getting in the door. Although open to the public, in order to visit to the Barnes Foundation, website warns:

[W]e recommend reservations be made forty-five to sixty days in advance if requesting for the months of April, May, October, or November. Thirty to forty-five days in advance for all other months except July, August, January or February, when two weeks prior is all that is necessary to obtain your desired date and time.

In addition to having to get tickets well in advance, the Museum is only open week-ends (including Fridays), except July & August, when it is open Wednesday - Friday. There is a 1,200 visitor limitation (in part, spurred on by objections to traffic by these neighbors over the years). Not exactly conducive to a spontaneous art experience.

Once past the bit of schadenfreude toward the neighbors, the decision to move the Barnes is honestly something I'm very conflicted about. One the one hand, I have I have lived in Philly for 20 years and have never been to the Barnes. This, despite the fact that its current location is just a few miles from my home and is in an area of the city that I frequent on a regular basis. This, despite the fact that I appreciate art and have visited museums all over the world. From places like France, Italy & Germany to San Francisco, Atlanta and Pittsburgh. I am a member of the Philadelphia Art Museum (and saw the Barnes collection when it was on loan to the Art Museum), and visit the museum along with the many other cultural institutions in the city. The burdensome hours and advance reservation requirement has been the impediment for me. Admittedly, I have made advance reservations for special exhibitions at the Philadelphia Art Museum, but the onerous Barnes restrictions have kept me away.

Having said all that, as much as I think that there are many benefits in having the Barnes in the city, nearby the many other museums along the Parkway, I also regret that this collection can't somehow stay in its true home. But in all the years of fighting about the fate of the Barnes, the neighbors have never made any meaningful concessions on access. An example of the "our way or the highway" mentality. And so, it's the highway to the Parkway for the Barnes.

One last note. I definitely will put aside my ban on the Barnes and will visit the collection on Latches Lane before it moves. I can't miss seeing the Barnes as it was meant to be.

See also, WHYY on Barnes Foundation Readies to Move Famous Paintings, and the NYTimes, Timeless Art, Frozen in Time (for Now), for more on the Barnes.

Tags: Philadelphia, Philly, Art, Barnes Museum