Reflections 11 - European Sculpture and Decorative Arts

I  realize that it has taken me nearly as long to get through these 53 galleries as it took to explore the previous 170, my progress having been interrupted by two eye surgeries, two trips of several weeks each, and then the pandemic. In many - maybe most - of these galleries, I found more to admire than to love, but in almost all of them, I found some works of amazing beauty and craftsmanship. And - this just occurs to me - one can learn as much or more about a culture from its smaller objects as from its grand paintings, sculptures, tapestries, and the like. 

The rooms make me think about the challenges of curatorship. First is the issue of display. Rereading my blog entries, I couldn't help noticing how many times I'd used the word "dim." The lighting in so many galleries made it hard to see fine or not-so-fine details (like what colors walls were painted in the period rooms!), much less to read captions. I fully appreciate that brighter lights could fade fabrics and otherwise damage objects. But are there better compromises to be found- perhaps spotlights on signage?  And speaking of signage, I would have liked more information - and at shoulder, not knee, height - about many of the objects I saw, especially in the new British galleries. These galleries themselves are a triumph of display, with many attractive exhibits, but if you are curious about specific works, it's not easy to satisfy that curiosity, at least not at present, since explanatory placards have been removed because of the pandemic. (I suppose that I might find more descriptions on my cell phone, but what a pain - and it certainly detracts from the immediacy of the viewing experience.)

A second issue concerns how objects are acquired. As I wrote, I suspect there are so many galleries devoted to decorative arts because so many wealthy donors have wanted to give their possessions to the Met on condition that they be on exhibit. Is the Met in any position to turn away these gifts when they are accompanied by hefty checks, as well as access to the donors' heavy-hitting friends? Still is everything worth showing?

I wonder why collectors prized some of these possessions.  Some of the furniture, in particular, seems so fussy, so elaborate, so showy,  I've speculated that wealthy people in the 20th century - maybe especially the nouveau riche -  wanted to demonstrate their taste  by buying up the possessions of wealthy people of earlier centuries. I realize, too, that I'm exhibiting an unpleasant smugness, a kind of chutzpah in deeming my modern sensibility, which values simplicity and clean lines (think Shaker and Danish Modern), as superior to theirs.   Much as I know at an intellectual level that tastes change over time, and that different people like different things, it's hard for me to shake the sense that my judgments are right, theirs misguided or old-fashioned.

Okay, I've now confessed. But I have another confession to make: I really love some of these beautiful, elaborate things if they are small in scale. Maybe it's not so much the fussiness and showiness of a gilded, exuberantly curved chair that bothers me so much as its size. If that finely worked object were the size of a snuffbox, to choose a non-random example, chances are I would like it a great deal. 

So taste is complicated. Maybe I especially like objects that seduce you rather than knock you out. To be continued....