That Story, Well Told - The Steins, PIcasso, Matisse, and Modern Art

We all know the story: Gertrude Stein goes to Paris, buys art from local artists Picasso and Matisse, and MODERN ART is launched. Or something like that. There's more to the story, of course, and it's now on display at the Museum of Modern Art in San Francisco. The setting is particularly fitting because the important players in the story - Leo, Gertrude, Michael, and Sarah Stein - were from the Bay Area, and the money for the now iconic paintings including Picasso's famous portrait of Gertrude, Matisse's shattering Femme au Chapeau, and many more, came from family businesses in cable cars and SF real estate. Leo was the first to head for Paris - he was something of a dilettante, a rich boy educated at Harvard with ambitions to be an artist - his connections in the Paris art scene started everything off. Gertrude, the youngest of the 5 Stein children, follows and brother and sister set up together on the Left Bank, buying art and opening the famous salon where they welcome artists and adventurous amateurs of art. Michael Stein, the eldest brother, and his charming, intelligent wife, Sarah, joined them soon after, also buying art and holding salons to introduce the new revolutionary art to a perplexed public. The paintings that were such a shock then have become so comfortable and familiar - whoever thinks of Matisse as startling and unpalatable now - but the show helps the viewer travel back to a time when the new forms and colors stuck in the craw like a hard piece of apple, unable to be processed. An interesting aspect of the exhibition is the inclusion of furniture from the apartment at 27 rue de Fleurus, Gertrude's base - heavy wood with muted finishes - apparently she felt it necessary for viewers to rest their eyes on something solid and dependable when the art became overwhelming. There are wonderful paintings and drawings here, some well known from American museums, a few from lesser known institutions, and a surprising number from private collections including the extraordinary Matisse portrait of a young sailor, but this is a documentary exhibition of great value for the story of Modern Art. Family photographs, intimate notes and letters, an amazing film taken from a cable car on Market Street San Francisco days before the 1906 earthquake - the stage set of the artistic revolution is set clearly and with great attention to detail. Sarah Stein emerges out of the shadow of her celebrated sister-in-law as a true hero; her active encouragement and support of Matisse no doubt allowed him to survive physically and mentally during some hard early times. She and Michael provided the impetus for Matisse to start his school - one room in the exhibit is devoted to his academy, including her careful notes on his teaching and two highly competent figure studies done by her in his classes. The part of the story that doesn't ordinarily surface is included as well: after Alice B. Toklas arrives (also from San Francisco) relations between Gertrude and brother Leo become strained and their partnership comes to a fractious end. He leaves with the Renoirs and she keeps the Picassos. Sarah and Michael eventually return to the Bay Area, and their collection is gradually dispersed as she has to contend with a grandson's gambling debts. (SF MOMA is one of the beneficiaries - Femme au Chapeau is the centerpiece of their permanent collection.) Once Picasso and Matisse prices start rising the Steins turn to younger artists but, although some names are familiar and the show provides plenty of examples, it certainly isn't the same. It appears that this show won't travel, so if you are heading to San Francisco between now and September 6, plan to see it. (Reserve tickets online http://www.sfmoma.org/exhib_events/exhibitions/details/stein_tickets)

Luck, Dots, and Painting: Jennifer Bartlett at Locks Gallery

Talent is great, but LUCK is often the elephant in the room in art careers. One of my favorite artists from the 80's - or at least one particular show that made an artist a favorite - was Jennifer Bartlett with her exhaustive series of scenes of a banal 
garden in the south of France, where she stayed for a period of months in the late 1970's. Jennifer Bartlett's biography includes a college friendship with Elizabeth Murray, and a list of instructors with names like James Rosenquist, Jim Dine, Robert Rauschenberg, and Claes Oldenberg. Luck is a great help in getting started, but you still have to do something with it. When I saw that exhibit of Bartlett's In the Garden series at Paula Cooper I was immediately drawn to the rich color, the heady sense of green life around a small pool, and the nearly inexhaustible creative possibilities of a single subject - an idea that has always been important to me in my work and my studio teaching (the artist makes a subject great through imagination and creativity; it is not the subject that makes great art.) (the 'water' painting shown at the top is not from that series, but So when I walked into the Locks Gallery in Philadelphia last week to see the current Jennifer Bartlett show, I hoped for that same rush of kindred feeling and excitement. It was there - a little. But not on the first floor - the introduction to the show and the artist (for anyone not familiar with her) is an extensive collection of minimalist works from the early 70's - 'circuit board' painting, in keeping with a Modern Art moment, but boring as can be. Up close - very close, there was a bit of satisfaction in the variation in the tiny dots between ruled lines, especially in the few with color. Upstairs the 'old' Jennifer Bartlett of my admiration was more in evidence, with large lush paintings of foliage and flowers where close inspection yielded an appreciation of the links to her fascination with grids and order, but here there were loose, painterly brushstrokes in rich beautiful colors. And then, again, the minimalist returned - this time the dots and stripes in fluorescent colors. My sense was of a phase for catching her artistic breath until she finds that lush painting impulse again. I look forward to it.

The Barnes - 'New' and 'Old'

It's time to talk about the Barnes Collection, whose days in its suburban Philadelphia mansion are fast coming to a close. I last commented on Barnes matters after seeing the plans for the new Center City building at a city hearing. I was enthusiastic about the move then and I remain so, even with the understanding that some things will be lost in the translation. These include the experience of Dr. Barnes's original setting and with it the aura of the master's touch, with the knowledge that he stood here and placed that there, on occasion conversing with the visiting Matisse to inspect the placement of his Bathers mural, or with Bertrand Russell, whom Barnes hired to lecture in his classes in the building. The mansion in Upper Merion is beautiful in its own right, as are the surrounding gardens which were a haven for Dr and Mrs Barnes when they resided there and continue to be important to horticulturalists. The original Barnes residence will, after July, become an archive open to scholars, an fitting and enduring role for this singular collection and its interesting history. But much will be gained in the move. Most obviously, better access to the jaw-dropping, over-the-top incredible collection. The 'New Barnes,' now nearly finished, sits in pride of place along the Benjamin Franklin Parkway (the Champs Elysees of Philadelphia - with its allee of trees and long views it is one of the great urban spaces of America) in easy proximity to the Philadelphia Museum of Art, the Rodin Museum, the Franklin Institute, the Free Library, etc. The design seems jarringly modern after the earlier Beaux Arts gentility, but my understanding of the plan from what I saw is that it is respectful of the fact and spirit of the original while also accommodating the practical needs of a modern art museum. The designers, Tod Williams Billie Tsien Architects, took pains to replicate the exact orientation of the galleries to light and even to the details of the landscaping visible through the windows. The arrangement of the collection will, of course, continue to reflect the valid, if idiosyncratic, ideas of Dr. Barnes with all the bits and pieces of metalwork stuck between the masterpieces. Dr. Barnes would probably not be happy - from what I know he was quite a grump and was not often happy - he had quarrels with the Philadelphia Museum, the Philadelphia art establishment of his day, even with Bertrand Russell and Matisse - (this painting by Giorgio di Chirico captures him nicely) but he made clear his intentions to make his collection accessible and he showed a strong belief in the value of African art and in the African-American community - the move will allow more space to show the breadth of this astonishing collection as well as to show it to more visitors including school groups, most especially those for whom the trek to Upper Merion, with accompanying rules for reservations and parking allotments, was difficult, if not impossible. The legal hassles and the vitriolic assertions about the Barnes have been exhaustive and acrimonious to a ridiculous degree (if you need to know more, it's easy to find the history going back many years.) It is now time to celebrate this extraordinary treasure and be glad that it is intact and available - it's a new jewel for Philadelphia. What do you think? Were you ever at the 'Old' Barnes? Do you think the advantages of the move outweigh the experience of the original?