Pointe of Art

The Quiet Whistler - 4/04
by Robert Maniscalco

I recently visited a couple well appointed galleries at the DIA, transformed into a portrait painter's nirvana for the current exhibition, "American Attitude: Whistler and His Followers." It was when I asked the Museum Director, Graham W.J. Beal, "what's up with Whistler's Mother," and he looked at me like I was a cultural dirt clod, that I realized we may not be on the same cultural band wagon. More likely it was that I walked in at the tail end of his press conference. For an instant however, at least in my mind, he and I represented the two opposite poles in an age-old dilemma: how do we encourage people to take more of an interest in arts and culture? Then I remembered, we're all in this together.

The more ardently I have tried to cram the transforming power of art down the throats of the great unwashed the more I realize that high art will only ever be appreciated by those who are sensitive, inquisitive, thoughtful, discerning individuals - people like you and I, dear reader -- people like Mr. Beal. We have to wonder, which comes first, the willingness to appreciate fine art or the ability?

How do we cut high culture into bite-sized bits and feed it to the masses without destroying it? The answer, thankfully or not, is we can't. Many have tried, myself included. The main reason for the demise of our classical music station, WQRS, as an example, was because they were under such pressure to reach an ever-wider audience that they alienated their primary constituents with their insipidness. What to do? Snobbery is only one choice we can make. Cow towing to the lowest common denominator is another. But is there a middle ground? Ultimately you can lead a horse to water but you can't make him appreciate the way the clouds look, so beautifully reflected in it.

I'm all for the occasional first time visitor to my gallery discovering the kick of collecting fine art but let's face it: some people will just never get it. In the meantime, what happens to those of us who've devoted our lives, immersed in the arts of the diverse cultures of the world? Hopefully, as part of the new creative class we will once again rise as arbiters of the complete human experience.

Therefore I am taking this opportunity to announce my resignation as the spokesman for the common man. The average Joe will never get high art so let's leave him in the dust. Let's be sure about one thing, first: when I use the word "common" or "average" I'm in no way referring to class or economic status. We've all met people with lots of money and friends in high places who wouldn't know a Whistler from a whistle. Nor am I talking about education. There are plenty of MBA's who've never set foot in a concert hall. Art is something one has to work at to understand. One has to spend time with it, be patient with it.

James McNeill Whistler epitomizes this point. His subtle, very often quiet canvases don't leap out for approval like many of his followers, whose work is also on display in this brilliantly curated exhibition. Refreshingly, the focus here is more on the visual elements, the art, rather than the back-stories, which, though well intended to give the uninitiated access to the art, end up diffusing the impact of the art itself. I mean, did we really need a lesson in the rudimental positions of ballet to appreciate what Degas was up to in last year's blockbuster, "Degas and the Dance?" You could almost hear the marketing team reasoning, "Even the average Joe will relate to how cute a little girl looks in a tutu." I wonder if he did.

"American Attitude" is a rare treat to experience a broad range of paintings from what is generally regarded as the apex of traditional portraiture. It's hard for our modern sensibilities to grasp how cutting edge Whistler was in defining and expanding the society portrait and the amazing influence artists once wielded in our society. For me, the exhibit is a proud reminder of the connection to my own lineage as a portrait artist. I found myself feeling wistful for the days when a subtle shift from "an arrangement of gray and black," as the artist himself describes his mother's portrait, into the soft cadmium in her cheeks, was enough to generate a powerful sense of time, place and yes, attitude. William Merritt Chase, by contrast, comes off as downright flamboyant, almost gaudy, but brilliantly so. The show is a quiet battle ground over the function of a portrait as a work of art amid the pressures every portrait artist faces, those of pleasing the client. With the wisdom of a sage, Whistler carefully directs the viewer's eye through each of his paintings, which also include important still lives and landscapes, inviting us to stay and visit a while longer.

Fortunately for us, these subtleties are brought to the fore in this exhibit. Visitors are gently encouraged by the show's curators to ask what makes Whistler's Mother ("Arrangement in Grey and Black, No. 1: Portrait of the Artist's Mother") one of the top ten icons of fine art. Through his skillful, and for his time, eccentric manipulation of composition, simple abstractions of form and restrained color structures Whistler makes it possible for us to wonder what his mother may have been thinking. Was she considering the weight of feminine decorum or debating the nature of her proud role in a patriarchal society? Perhaps she was simply wondering how much longer she would have to sit in that uncomfortable chair.

Whatever she may have been thinking we can all be grateful she made her way from France for the first time in fifty years -- no small feat and a real coup for our own DIA. "American Attitude" is a rare opportunity for those of us who know a good thing when we see it. So, go see it.

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