The Art of the Steal

I've lived in the Philly area my entire life & followed the Barnes Foundation saga from the very beginning until its tawdry denouement and I don't understand some of the bizarre postings above.

No doubt the filmmakers had an agenda, which was that the Barnes should stay in Merion but the power brokers in Harrisburg and Philly colluded to drive it into the ground to force the move to the BF Parkway, which was entirely at odds with Dr. Barnes Last Will & Testament.

This was pretty convincingly driven home by the movie.

The collection isn't invitation only, you simply request a timed ticket on their website and you're in. The entrance fee is a reasonable $15 and the museum housing the collection is truly world class, on par with the Villa Borghese in Rome or the Frick in Manhatten, only better. It is truly one of a kind, one of the treasures of the art world.

It's true that the Barnes was mismanaged by Richard Glanton, the President of the Trustees, during the 1990's. His lawsuit against the Merion Neighbors Association was as disastrous as it was idiotic. But that was no excuse to move the whole operation to the Parkway. It seems it would have been quite easy to raise the money to keep it at Merion.

Who cares if the number of eyeballs weren't maximized? It was never intended to be run that way. And after Episcopal Academy moved away from it's previous City Line Ave location, an entrance from Route 1 (City Line Ave) could have easily been paved (Episcocal even offered to donate the land to make it happen, a fact oddly not mentioned in the film). This would have entirely eliminated the neighbors complaints. However, those talks went nowhere (did the power brokers intervene to squash that also?) Saint Joseph's University ended up buying the entire Episcopel property. I have no doubt SJU would have been more than willing to work something out with a treasure like the Barnes. Having a world renowned art institution as a neighbor would be woth that much, at least.

The question arises, "what would Barnes think of the move?". He despised the stuffy, Republican WASPs that ran Philadelphia and who looked down their noses at the upstart Barnes and his post impressionist art. He left control in his will to the downtrodden African Americans who ran Lincoln University, as a way to "stick it" to the powers that be. But now that those outsiders are actually the insiders, and helped engineer the move to the Parkway, would Barnes object? Who really knows.

In any event, I thought the documentary was great & recommend it highly.

It's about time this story was told for the entire world to hear the facts.

I am unnerved by two problems with previous reviewers here:

1) The Barnes Foundation is NOT a "museum"! It is an educational art foundation! Please do not keep referring to it as a "museum"!

2) Every, I repeat, every film has a point of view, and every documentary has its own "slant" or perspective. Why do reviewers think that a documentary must show all points of view. Did Fahrenheit 9-11? What about Food, Inc. or Supersize Me? Or The Smartest Men in the Room? Or Millhouse? (Do you want me to go on?) Please give one example of a documentary that gives all points of view!

One very salient point in this film is that Dr. Barnes' (and he did have a medical degree, so it is not dishonest to give him that label) will was thrown out by the court. A legal precedent which will have very serious ramifications.....

"The Art of the Steal" follows the fate of The Barnes Collection, the most prestigious and valuable post-impressionist art collection in the world, tracing the battle between collector and museums over the course of 75 years. The origin of the collection is quite a story: Dr. Barnes, who had gained wealth in breakthrough scientific research, acquired some of the best modern paintings of the time by having something that museums and art critics of the time didn't have - taste and pure intuition. Over time, however, the artwork garnered the acclaim it deserved, but Barnes was determined to keep his collection private and have it appreciated by those who were willing to give the paintings the proper study they deserved. This belief became a trademark of his estate, but after Barnes' death and the passage of time, ownership of the collection became more and more blurry and penetrable to former enemies of Barnes, namely The Philadelphia Enquirer and The Philadelphia Art Museum, who wished to make the gallery public. After years of legal struggle (a series of back and forths the documentary covers to an almost painful degree), the city finally obtains it for a measly $107 million, a shadow to the estimated $25 billion the collection is worth.

The documentary is very clear in pointing out that the fate of the collection is directly contrary to what Barnes had wished for it. In fact, everyone who has hands currently on the collection are the very people who opposed and battled the existence of the collection to begin with. What the documentary doesn't present very well is the passage of time - Barnes has been dead for nearly 60 years, and keeping the wishes of a dead man alive when that much money is at stake and ownership is juggled around naturally becomes a more and more difficult thing to do. What it effectively portrays is the tourist attraction that art has become, a cash cow to governments who have the opportunity to capitalize on it. Whether this is a travesty or not is up to debate, but what is certain is that the city of Philadelphia effectively stole the property of Barnes and mocked the idea of personal wealth. The overall outcome is that now the collection can be viewed by anyone and everyone publicly - a point that the documentary seems determined not to emphasize (one reason is probably because 90% of the interviewees were associated with or supported the original foundation.) As nothing more than a spectator, I'm personally excited that this legendary artwork will be on display for everyone to see for the first time, but being aware of the underbelly of politics behind the gallery makes the silver lining all the more bittersweet.

Interesting and entertaining look at how a bunch of the powerful in Philadelphia basically conspired to take one of the great modern art collections in the world away from it's home in the suburbs, , and transplant them into Philadelphia proper, against the express wishes left in Albert C. Barnes will (made in 1922).

While there's no question the tactics used by those in power are sleazy, the film also ignores what I consider a key issue: Is it really such a bad thing that one of the most amazing collections of modern art be much more accessible to the public, even if it violates the will of a man with no heirs who has been dead over 50 years? At what point do old grudges - going both ways - count less than art belonging to the world? I'm not saying there are neat answers to such questions, but the film acts like there's no moral murkiness at all.

Similarly the film uses questionable tactics to argue its case. For example it's constantly stating how those on the 'other side' refuse to be interviewed. Yet, it is clear that the ideology of the film-makers is known to all involved -- the film is financed by one of the leaders of the group fighting against the collections movement, and guards at a gathering of those planning the art move know not to allow in this specific film crew, even mentioning their production company name. If you knew you a film was being made whose basic premise is that you're a swindler a cheat and a thief with no respect for art, would you agree to be interviewed?

Additionally, some of those who seem so calm and well reasoned while being interviewed and arguing the art should be left where it is, seem a little less impressive when you see them outside that same gathering screaming 'philistines!' at those going inside.

None-the less, I still enjoyed the film, and there's no question it does a good job exposing the fact that many of our biggest public trusts and charitable institutions have a lot going on besides 'acting in the public interest', and are willing to play dirty pool to get what they want. I just find it hard to see this as a case of moral outrage to rank with the Iraq war, or starving children, or the U.S. educational crisis. It's basically rich people hating on rich people. Fun, but not as nutritious as all that.

This well-made documentary is informative and fascinating, but I don't think it fairly presents the arguments for those who disagree with its thesis, which is that Barnes' will should be meticulously respected as it pertains to his amazing art collection.

Those who feel otherwise are portrays as gangsters, thieves, Philistines: power-hungry jerks with selfish motives. While there is an undoubtedly an element of truth to those accusations, it is not the entire story. I feel I must play a little devil's advocate for a more charitable spin on 'the other side.'

It appears to me that the collection's arrangement and display in the original Barnes building is hopelessly outdated: crammed together in the style of a century ago, and arranged according to the whim of one man who is long dead. The modern museum gives art much more space to breathe, and scholars and curators can and do illuminate art by arranging it, and juxtaposing it, in new and different ways.

Why should these works be arranged, forever, in only one pattern, and in only one building? Blockbuster exhibitions are not merely money-makers for museums, but are opportunities to see art in a different context, and for scholars and curators to advance the study of art by combining pieces in new and different ways.

Why, logically, should cultural treasures be considered the property of one man legacy for all of eternity? I can see the logic of requesting an owner's wishes for a long period of time--say, for 50 years. But for centuries? Owners of art deserve respect, but the notion that ownership can extend out into an infinite future is crazy. Just as copyrighted works eventually enter the public domain, so should artworks become available for the benefit and enjoyment of the larger public.

Barnes' name should be, and will be, associated with this art for a very long time. But his obsessions and whims and taste should not dictate the fate of his collection for all time. Allowing the work to travel, and to be arranged differently, and to even move into a new building, is reasonable (over centuries, a dozen different curators and scholars might bring their era's thinking and aesthetic to the collection).

I concede that this might be painful for Lower Merion, and to those who agree with Barnes' will. But Barnes has been dead for decades. Ownership and control of objects of major cultural importance should, eventually, pass from the control of an owner who has long been dead.

And Matisse's line, about how the Barnes was the only sane place in America to view art, should be taken with a grain of salt: if he saw the best art museums in America today, he may very well have changed his mind. A world-class museum today is far, far superior to any art museum of a century ago. Each generation produces new scholarship, and artworks of genuine cultural importance should be available to the finest scholars and curators of each generation. To do otherwise is to overvalue the taste and importance of a single individual who died decades ago, and to undervalue the art's importance to the wider world.