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Why Art Museums Matter

 

Last summer, I visited Michigan and had the pleasure of spending a day at the Detroit Institute of Arts (DIA), a museum which has garnered all kinds of media attention recently as large portions of its collection face the controversial threat of sale. If you’ve never been to the DIA, it’s well worth a visit sooner than later. Their collection is truly outstanding; and even the architecture is phenomenal. My time there, in tandem with all the ongoing news coverage, got me thinking about the importance of art museums and of communities having access to them.

I have created work and taught various aspects of art for many years. Yet I never cease to be amazed by how much I learn at museums. While wandering the DIA, for example, I stumbled upon a special atrium filled with stunning murals by Diego Rivera. I was struck (as has happened many times in the past) by the fact that I recognized the works instantly—they were the well-known “Detroit Industry” murals—but had never seen them in person. They are so different, so much more striking in real life, compared to how they look in books and on computer screens. I was similarly blown away by the more contemporary Ellsworth Kelly exhibit, for similar reasons.

 

 

While I absolutely appreciate initiatives like the Google Cultural Institute, which seeks to make major works of art accessible to people around the world through online archives and exhibitions, my day at the DIA filled me with a renewed sense of how vital it is to view art in its original form whenever possible. The flatness, size, and colors of a printed page or electronic interface rarely do a work justice. Only in person can one fully experience the scale, the richness, the texture, and the nuances of a work’s interaction with light and space. The image above is a lovely representation of Kelly’s print, but it doesn’t actually provide any real information about what the work is like up close. How big is it, really? What subtleties exist in its materials when you look up close? What is it like in space, in different kinds of light, at different times of day?

Along these lines, I also found myself filled with a renewed appreciation for the design of art museums, as architectural frameworks for viewing work. The DIA, in particular, is so thoughtfully constructed. The architecture leads you through the work without getting in the way. Square galleries guide you through the collection, while a long vast promenade invites processing and reflection. A beautiful atrium offers rest and sustenance (including excellent coffee, for the record). Consider the contrast between viewing a piece of art in a space like DIA versus hanging it in your home and living with it every day. The latter is a wonderful, intimate relationship that I absolutely recommend; but there’s something about the act of going to a museum—where all the clutter and distractions of daily life are removed, all focus is directed exclusively toward the art—that feels akin to visiting a temple. Indeed, the DIA’s Beaux-Arts building, designed by Paul Cret, “was immediately referred to as the ‘temple of art’” upon its completion in 1927. It has undergone various renovations and expansions since then, but for me, its profound, sacred quality remains strong.

 

 

I’ve been dismayed to see Detroit even entertain the idea of putting the DIA at risk; but I’ve been equally heartened to see so many different entities rise up in support of saving this important cultural hub. Just last week, a group of private foundations came forward with an offer of $330 million to keep the art in place, while helping address some of the problems that led the city to consider selling in the first place. Whether or not the city accepts the offer remains to be seen—the amount still falls short of a recent Christie’s appraisal—but nonetheless, it’s a significant turn of events. Things look just a bit more hopeful.