Wednesday, December 12, 2012

Working in a Museum Makes Me Jaded


There are numerous things I love about being a librarian in a museum. Being around art, constantly learning about art, seeing people inspired or changed by art. All great things. My professional experiences and time at university give me the right to say this is my "field" and I am super-lucky to have a job that's in that field.

Having a broad knowledge of art and art history really sucks sometimes though. For instance, it can ruin fictional movies or television shows. I can become completely disengaged when a film/episode deals with art in an either improbable or downright incorrect way. I do a lot of eye-rolling and I've noticed it more and more.

Here are some recent examples:

1. The Forsyte Saga: I really loved the early 2000s remake of the series based on John Galsworthy's books and I just watched it all again. I think Damian Lewis is fantastic as the despicable Soames Forsyte and Gina McKee is simply gorgeous - especially in those Art Nouveau outfits near the end of the series. The problem for me, however, is that damn "Degas" painting that keeps reappearing throughout the second series. It's prominent as a work that the father (Soames) bids on because the work reminds him of his daughter Fleur. The person he outbids (spoiler alert!) eventually marries the daughter of which this painting is reminiscent and they keep alluding to it.

Here is the work:


And here are multiple examples of Degas' work. Okay, I know I'm being a snob, but I see very very little resemblance to his style. I know... it's just me. But, it did take away from my enjoyment of the series.

2. Framed: This BBC production from 2009 was based on actual events. Here's a nice synopsis from IMDB:
When the National Gallery in London is flooded the Director, Quentin Lester, decides to transfer the entire collection to the Welsh caves where the collection was stored during World War II. The entire operation is supposed to be secret and the cover story is that they are a mining company looking to reopen the mines, good news to the economically depressed town nearby. It takes local school teacher, Angharad Stanner, all of a day however to learn what is really going on.
This was a cute, uplifting film, but I had to cringe several times at the art handling and serious lack of security issues. Even back in the 1930s and 40s the museum standards were better than this.

3. And lastly, for now: I am Legend, starring Will Smith. Smith plays scientist Robert Neville in this apocalyptic film - which I actually quite enjoyed. However, at the beginning of the movie, we see Neville in his home which has amazing art work. That Jean-Michel Basquiat work alone is worth about $3 million. Do we really find this kind of work in youngish scientist's homes these days?

If you're an art snob like me, I'd love to hear about other examples. Even if you're not an art snob...

Sunday, October 28, 2012

Fun with Mold

[Having two kids now has really put a cramp in my ability to post. I'll work on it!]

Several years ago, my library received a multi-thousand volume book donation - an entire library purchased on our behalf to make up for a large gap in a particular research area.

It's taken some time to process and catalogue it all - years, in fact. The collection was bought sight unseen with only a list as the proof of contents. For a long time, much of it was stored off-site and, luckily, we realized that the list was pretty accurate. After nearly 5 years, we are entering the home stretch. We have less than 500 volumes to go.

Some of the last things to be brought from storage were the irregular things. Yes, I'm lazy and knew some of these things would be hard to catalogue or place in the collection and the longer I put it off... well, maybe the library community would come up with something revolutionary that would make the job super easy! No, it didn't happen.

At any rate, there were some real gems in this group and then there was this:

At the end of the donation and, luckily, sitting on a shelf by itself because of its shape and size, was The American Art Year-Book printed in 1884 for The New England Manufacturers' & Mechanics' Institute. It was housed in a wooden box covered by a very stained textile. I had never actually opened it. [You have to understand, there were literally thousands and thousands of items in this donation. You can only look at so many things before you decide to look at the rest as they are coming in and being catalogued.]

I finally had to open it. When I did, a waft of mold smell emerged. Not a good sign. Upon inspection, the box itself was water-stained on the bottom and had traces of mold. There was no need to save it. I bagged it and put it in the trash.

Now, I needed to examine the paper on the inside. This particular book is comprised of many loose leafs prints - wood and steel engravings and lithographs contained in a paper envelope of sorts. First, I looked at the envelope - all around it - and found, yikes, some mold on the bottom.

Then, I went in to see the real damage. Did it damage the prints inside? At the back, oh yes it did. Probably twenty percent of the leaves. So unfortunate.

I have very little knowledge about mold, its true effects and how/if you can remove it. I called in one of our conservators. She came in, I picked it up and showed her the underside - the mold was both its usual black in color, but also other shades - like red and orange. Upon seeing the colored mold, she calmly told me to put it down immediately and bag it. Then, she had me do a good cleaning of the surfaces it had touched and my own hands. I learned a valuable lesson: when mold turns black and other colors it becomes toxic and can readily cause mold poisoning. You think I'm joking? Look at this.

Next, we considered whether it could be saved at all - even part of it. Another member of the conservation team came in and, with gloved hands, opened it back up again and added papers that would wick away the moisture. We sealed it in a box, then wrapped it in two bags and taped it up. No mold spore could escape.

I got in touch with a couple of local paper conservators to get some ideas about whether or not it could be saved. When I explained about the reddish color, both declined to even look at it and strongly recommended it be destroyed.

This was my week of fun with mold.

Sunday, August 12, 2012

My Position On The War

I guess because I'm a librarian people think I'm fair game for a heated discussion about eBooks (and electronic music for that matter). Even when I'm not in the mood, or heaven forbid, trying to do work.

I've mentioned before that people periodically come in the library and make statements like "why do you have all of these books when everything is online now?" Here's a tip: if you say this in an art research library, no one is going to take you seriously. It's a clear indication you've never done any serious art research.

What prompted me to write this post is the vehemence in which someone recently defended their position, stating that eBooks will "win the war." What war? I don't know of any library - any at all - that plans to do away with all of its print materials or, vice versa, never consider getting electronic material. I've gotten into it with people that think because I still buy printed books that must mean I hate eBooks and want to do my best to stop them.

I love electronic resources
Electronic resources are great! I use them everyday. I love the fact that I can search a database to find an article in the newspaper from decades ago. Imagine having to do that from microform or newspaper by newspaper. It's such a time-saver.

We've digitized collections so we no longer have to handle old, frail important material. Being able to digitize has helped us prolong our print collections. It's fantastic.

Electronic resources help me be more efficient. There's no question about that. But, people, saying everything is online - and implying that it's also affordable - is just plain ignorant.

It's not online, really!
Here are some recent examples of what's not online.
  1. A curator found a reference to a piece of porcelain being sold through an auction house in 2001 that sounded very much like a piece we have in our collection. Now this particular auction house has a pretty good online presence and you can search past auctions. Easy. Well, this particular sale had only partial entries from the print catalogue and the image available online was small and you could not see important details. Not good enough. We needed to see if the design was similar and, as importantly, the provenance for this particular piece (this portion was not online). We ended up buying a copy of the print catalogue from an online used book store consortium.
  2. Then there was another provenance question on an entirely different piece. The information we needed was in an old German catalogue produced at the beginning of the 20th century. This catalogue documented the sale of this piece and provided that important information on its former owners. Although you can find parts of this catalogue online, the part we needed is not and required us to buy a copy from a European book seller.
It still costs money
College and university research libraries shell out hundreds of thousands of dollars each year for incredibly rich databases: Oxford Art Online (the online version of the Grove Dictionary of Art), Eighteenth Century Collections Online, ARTstor, JSTOR, etc. If you're a student, you use these and don't think about the associated cost (at least I didn't). If you're not affiliated with a university, finding these to use might be difficult. Our local county library used to subscribe to Oxford Art Online but recently stopped its subscription because it couldn't continue at the high cost (and this is a well-funded county!)

The point is that such electronic resources aren't free and they aren't even affordable to many. Our museum library cannot afford OAO or Eighteenth Century Collections Online - and we could really benefit from having them.

Another example is electronic serials. I still subscribe to the print versions because the electronic versions are sometimes three times as expensive. I can't imagine the laughs I'd get at the budget meeting if I asked them to triple my subscriptions budget. They're always trying to get me to reduced it. And the amount of data I provide them makes no difference, I've tried that too.

And I could write a whole blog on the promised obsolescence of electronic devices and media. Remember ZIP disks, laser disks, BETA? How old is your iPhone? Did you have a Zune?

Browsing
I like browsing: looking along a shelf and seeing what's there. Finding something I didn't know existed or seeing something whose provocative cover made me look to find out more. I appreciate artwork and book jackets.

For music, I still buy something physical - the CD or album - and then digitize it so I can listen on my iPod. I love being able to see all of my music on shelves: scanning it and remembering "oh, I haven't listened to this in a long time." And, importantly, I don't think they make iPod storage big enough for my entire collection to be downloaded. That's why I still have a CD player and a turntable.

Can't do that with electronic data
For my books at home, I've had books signed to me by the author. Finding that when I go to read a book again means a lot to me. I have a pop-up book created by a local glass artist that is simply beautiful. She signed it for me when I met her in our museum's shop. I've had the honor of being thanked in liner notes of CD inserts. That too means a lot.


There are pros and cons for both print and electronic. And, luckily for us, we can have both.

I think some people need to get a life. For the next person who comes in and wants to get into it with me on this, I'll direct them to this blog post. And they can read it online.

Tuesday, June 26, 2012

Aggressive Sales Tactics

We all experience aggressive sales tactics in the course of our week: the phone calls from Unknown or 1-866-whatever, the spam texts, the spam emails, the people who come to your door (despite your two "no soliciting" signs), and - my personal favorite - the buffoons who stand on three corners of the block where my building is located trying to get me to sign something every single day.

As an art librarian, I am privy to yet one more segment of the aggressive sales tactics market: the desperate author.

I have to assume with the advent of self-publishing, authors are left more and more to do their own marketing. I get it. You publish something, you want people to buy it, maybe your living depends on it. And, I do understand that it is expensive to publish an art book; the image rights alone sometimes can bankrupt an author. I also understand that as an artist or an art historian, we sometimes feel compelled to do things - we have a story to tell or some revelation to share. And we want people to know about what we've created/discovered.

These authors, desperate to sell their work, are resorting to some pretty aggressive measures. Lots and lots of unsolicited emails, cold calls, multiple flyers - even the occasional drop-in sales pitch - to sell me a book.

Like most art libraries right now... there is little money. No matter how many times you call me and email me. No matter how many flyers you mail me. No matter how much you beg, plead, or try to make me feel like there's something wrong with me for saying "no," I cannot buy your gorgeous photography book for $5,000. I also can't buy your artist biography you spent the last five years working on for $300. And I certainly can't buy your pretty nice painting book for $50 because it doesn't support anything in our object collection. The money I do have (which is not much) must go toward things we actually need.

And, seriously, where are these libraries that buy the limited signed editions, the multi-thousand dollar photography books, the handmade artist books? Cause I want to work there! [Actually, it's book collectors who are more likely to be the buyers of such works. And those very few well-endowed libraries.]

One of my colleagues suggested I ask the authors to donate the book, then they can at least get a tax credit for the donation. Not a bad idea. I try it. One of the authors emailed me back a pretty vitriolic message spelling out how desperate they were and how they've already laid out so much of their own money and how - get this - "You really need this book, but I can't tell you why because of confidentiality." [I swear, I did not make that up.] So you think I'm going to ever buy anything from you now?! I thought you were desperate; now I just think you're weird.

A long time ago I worked for a start-up company that made software for the insurance industry. The company failed because they did not understand that insurance companies were not willing to pay for our service. I remember hearing one of the owners using some of these same aggressive sales tactics: repetitive emails, sales pitch cold calls; I remember the desperation in his voice. That was for an expensive software product, but I'm seeing lots of similarities in trying to sell something much less expensive. Is there a school or something one goes to to learn these tactics?

So, authors of beautiful art books, hear me! Before you lay down your own money on a gorgeous book that is the crowning achievement of your life, make sure you have other means of supporting yourself. Art libraries have very little money and may likely not be your best customers.

Wednesday, June 6, 2012

Sometimes Good Things Do Happen

I made a promise to myself that I would try, in this blog, to report on more good things that happen. It certainly is easy to complain and I'll admit I do get carried away sometimes.

Something really nice happened this week.

The third day I was back from maternity leave was the first day of that week that we had public hours. I was little nervous as it would be my first encounter with the [sometimes unpredictable] public in over six months. Lucky for me, the encounter started with a nice lady.

She informed me that she was visiting my city and wanted to see a work of art she knew we owned. It wasn't on view and she wondered who she might speak with someone about seeing it. I had never heard of this artist and was not familiar with his work. [Which means nothing - we have thousands and thousands of works in the collection, many of which are by artists I do not know.] Upon some discussion, I learned that she was the sister of someone who is a noted scholar on the artist. She showed me a catalog her sister had written containing a work similar to the one she was looking for.

I really liked this artist's work. He was a woodcut artist who fell somewhere between Thomas Hart Benton and Tim Burton. I was glad to know we had his work in our collection.

At any rate, I introduced her to someone in our registrar's office who was able to get an image for her of the work we own. She was very happy and let us know she would inform her sister of the outcome and thanked us for her nice experience.

Yesterday, I received a copy of that catalog signed by her sister with a note to me, saying how grateful she was for my help to her sister. Big smile.

Kind of makes up for that a**hole who called me seven times last week then proceeded to yell at me.

The artist is Fred Geary. Here's a nice blog about him. The picture I really like (not the one we own) is "Old Maple Tree" a little ways down the page.

Saturday, June 2, 2012

Mr. Kinkade

The self-proclaimed "painter of light," Thomas Kinkade, died recently, which incited a great deal of attention on the painter, his art and his legacy.

For people who work in museums, like me, he is extremely controversial. He is popular among the masses, yet he is ostracized by the art world. His work is often publicly criticized by authorities on art and art history, and those same authorities - critics, curators and collectors - were asked to comment on his work upon his death. The criticisms came hard and fast. For a number of articles that appeared about him online, I read many responses ranging from complete agreement that his work is kitsch or un-noteworthy to disdain toward the interviewee for being such a snob.

There were few articles that shed light on why the art world has targeted him so vehemently. I'd like to share my own personal viewpoint on this artist and why his work creates great problems for me.

It's not because his work has underlying religious themes
Some people speculate that the art world doesn't like Kinkade because his work has underlying Christian themes. Nope. I can assure you, that's not it. I think anyone who uses religious ideas in a sincere way, who is able to express them in an interesting and non-defensive manner and attempt to be taken seriously, has every right to be part of the art world. Contemporary Jewish and Islamic artists are part of many contemporary art collections. Artists who incorporate Christian themes are too: Howard Finster, Albert Herbert and Sister Gertrude Morgan, for example.

It's not because his art is kitsch
There are many artists whose work could be defined as kitsch. There are many good artists whose work is not kitsch, but will never be collected by museums or sold by reputable galleries. The divisions proscribed by the art world have absolutely nothing to do with each individual person's response to a work of art. Those divisions have simply developed over time as art markets evolved and art dealers and art historians exerted their expertise. Kitsch, low art, and even manufactured art can certainly be pleasant, interesting and popular. And the art world typically doesn't feel compelled to speak out about it.

Heck, I have tons of stuff like this in my own house. For example, I collect Godey Victorian Ladies plates made by Salem China. I am under no illusion that the plates are hand-painted by some master china painter and are worth enough to someday ensure that I'll never have to work again. I didn't buy them for their monetary value; I bought them because they're weird and interesting and I like them. Along the line somewhere, some illustrator did make the original images [and were converted to lithographs in this case], but I know hand-painted images are not on my plates. And, importantly, Salem China never created the illusion that purchasing these plates was a sure-fire way to set yourself up for life. The plates aren't worth much and that's okay.

Museums typically don't collect kitsch, although there are notable exceptions. It's what exists outside of the museum and is allowed to peaceably co-exist. No art historian rails on about Godey Victorian Ladies plates.

It's the "shyster" factor
It's the "shyster" factor that, for me, makes Kinkade extremely problematic. If he had just been a painter, no problem. If he had made paintings, then had some company reproduce them as posters and sell them in art reproduction stores, no problem. It's that he created his own galleries, was fuzzy about what was really original art and had a longstanding tradition of duping the public.

Kinkade, or his company, exploited people's beliefs in the following:
  • Works bought in galleries must be worth a lot of money
  • If it's sold in a gallery, it must be an original piece of art
  • I can see brushstrokes on the canvas, it must be an original
  • If I have an original work of art, I'm gonna get paid!
Kinkade created his own galleries to sell his own work. There was no vetting, no dealers deciding this work was good and would have a market with collectors. Most of the work that is sold in his galleries is not original art work. As this really great article points out, "most of what he did was in multiples; there are very few originals. Most were serigraphs or lithographs, and then sometimes he or somebody else would maybe hand color them, he would occasionally add a stroke or two, or he might sign them, but they were limited editions." Even his own web site states "Thomas Kinkade limited edition artwork has been reproduced with the highest standards in the limited edition art industry...The Standard Number edition, Artist Proofs, Publisher Proofs, and Examination Proofs are manufactured exactly the same way and include equal amounts of highlighting across each edition. The Gallery Proof and International Proofs are manufactured and highlighted equal to the editions above, but include a dime-size gold foil embossed remarque above Thomas Kinkade's painted signature." There is a lot of manufacturing happening. People who think they have paintings hand-painted by Kinkade likely have machine reproductions that Kinkade was not even present for.

Deborah Solon, who holds a Ph.D. in Art History and is an American art expert for Heritage Auction House, states "It's certainly possible that the market for some of his actual paintings could go up," Solon acknowledged. But the possibility, even the likelihood, remains that these buyers are making a long-term mistake if they view their purchases as investments. Shyster.

So why am I getting all riled up about this?
I [and my art librarian colleagues too] am the one who has to deal with people who have his work and are under the misconception that they are sitting on a gold mine. I've only gotten one call so far, but I know they'll be more.

By the way, my friend and I were speculating on who would play Kinkade in the full-length motion picture. I said Gary Oldman initially, but I'm changing it to Philip Seymour Hoffman after reading this!

Friday, June 1, 2012

Disparaged Over Nondisparagement Clause

I was just alerted to this article in the New York Times: "Former Employees Feel Silenced on Library Project." Part of the article addresses employees of the New York Public Library System being asked to sign a "nondisparagement clause." After leaving, they must promise to never say anything bad about the NYPL in the public. In short, if they don't sign the agreement, they won't get severance pay when/if they are let go.

Man, I already have a hard time keeping my mouth shut - and I'm still employed! I just want to go on the record that I have not signed any sort of nondisparagement agreement (I don't work for the NYPL either). Carry on!