Clement Greenberg: A Collection Illuminates an Arbiter of Modernism]
Leonard Pulver
Clement Greenberg: A Collection Illuminates
an Arbiter of Modernism
http://www.nytimes.com/2000/11/07/arts/07NOTE.html
November 7, 2000
CRITIC'S NOTEBOOK
By ROBERTA SMITH
When it comes to American art-world myths,
there's nothing quite like
that of Clement Greenberg, the critic who
ruled the New York roost
in the 1940's and early 50's. During these
years his imperious
writing style, sharp eye, streamlined vision
of history and
belligerent personality created an aura of
infallibility that made
him feared and resented as well as admired.
If Alfred Barr and the Museum of Modern Art
exposed the thicket of
contrasting modernist mediums and styles, it
was Greenberg, writing
in The Nation and Partisan Review, who
effectively cleared away the
undergrowth and pruned the confusing
branches, leaving a trunk that
extended vertically, with few offshoots,
from Picasso to Pollock to
the Color Field painters. But in the 1960's
and 70's came an
ever-louder chorus of "Timber!," and
Greenberg's lone pine was
toppled by a proliferation of dissenting
critical viewpoints and a
succession of art movements Pop,
Minimalism and Conceptualism
that he refused to take seriously.
There's a hubristic quotient to Greenberg's
example that evokes
Faust or Lear, with its mixture of
brilliance and blindness, power
and its abuse, indulgence and courage and
final exile surrounded by
loyal followers. You don't have to be an art
critic to find it
fascinating and repellent, both an
inspiration and a cautionary
tale.
This persistent fascination with Greenberg,
who died in 1994,
extends to his art collection, the
acquisition of which was
announced last month by the Portland Art
Museum in Oregon.
The Greenberg Collection, as it is now
called, contains 152 works
by 58 American, Canadian and European
artists, nearly all of whom
are new to the museum's collection. The
Portland museum, founded in
1892, is the oldest in the Northwest, with
extensive holdings in
American, European, Asian, African and
especially American Indian
art. Still, John Buchanan, the museum's
executive director, said,
"We were asleep when the chapter of the New
York School was
written."
Comparing the Greenberg acquisition, the
second- largest in the
museum's history, to "going from zero to 60
miles an hour," Mr.
Buchanan added, "I am a great believer that
museum collections are
built by collecting collections."
Mr. Buchanan said the purchase price, which
also included hundreds
of often annotated books, catalogs and
gallery brochures, was "over
several million dollars," but less than the
appraised value of the
collection at Greenberg's death. Tom and
Gretchen Holce, Portland
collectors, bought the collection from
Janice Van Horne,
Greenberg's widow, and donated it to the
museum. Ms. Van Horne
expressed relief that the collection would
remain intact and be
"cared for and loved and seen." Greenberg's
papers were sold to the
Getty Research Center in Santa Monica,
Calif., in 1995.
Judging from an illustrated checklist, the
collection's value may
be more personal and historical than
aesthetic. It is certainly a
lens through which to examine one of the
most intriguing figures of
the postwar American art scene, the work he
supported and the
circles he inhabited.
Of the 152 works, only 29 date from before
1965, when Greenberg
was at his most perceptive, and not
surprisingly, they appear to
account for most of the collection's
strengths.
These include, most prominently, a handful
of works on paper by
the Abstract Expressionists whom Greenberg
supported early,
eloquently and selectively. In this group is
an ink drawing he
received as a birthday present from Jackson
Pollock, an ink drawing
by the sculptor David Smith, and gouaches by
Adolph Gottlieb and
Hans Hofmann.
Thereafter the collection is slanted toward
what was often called
the Greenberg party line. It is top-heavy
with dozens of paintings,
sculptures, drawings and prints by the Color
Field artists and
their followers, whom Greenberg insisted, in
increasing isolation,
were the rightful successors of Abstract
Expressionism. Leading
this pack are Kenneth Noland with 23 works
and Jules Olitski with
21. There are also several each by Friedel
Dzubas, Jack Bush, Helen
Frankenthaler and the sculptor Anthony Caro.
The standouts in this group include Mr.
Noland's first stained
target painting (1958) and Mr. Olitski's
"Prince Patutszky" (1962),
an outstanding example of the bold, stain-
painted shapes for which
he first became known. In addition there is
a striking Gorky-esque
semi-abstract landscape painted by Ms.
Frankenthaler in 1950, the
year she began a five-year romance with
Greenberg and the year
before she developed the stain-painting
technique that was then
taken up by Mr. Noland and Morris Louis.
Around the edges the collection reflects
more than Greenberg's
published public taste. A number of
watercolors attest to his
affection for landscape painting, which he
had studied. Other
quirks include a 1945 still life by Buffie
Johnson; a small oil
from 1940 by the collagist Anne Ryan; and an
intriguing nearly all-
white painting from 1952 by the Italian
painter Enrico Donati. A
1936 watercolor seascape, by the self-taught
British painter Alfred
Wallis, might have been cherished partly
because it looks like
Color Field before the fact. The most
personal work is a
surprisingly realistic portrait bust of
Greenberg made in 1990 by
Mr. Caro, who had moved away from pure abstraction.
Greenberg's collection and his involvement
with the art market
have long been a subject of speculation. Ms.
Van Horne, who married
him in 1956, said that she remembered him
selling no more than "15
to 20 works" from the collection, including
those he parted with
between 1977, when they divorced, and 1989,
when they remarried.
One such work, she remembered, was a small
Pollock painting sold in
1962. A Morris Louis painting was sold in
the 1980's to meet
Greenberg's medical expenses (he died of
emphysema), and a
Frankenthaler was sold in 1993 after a
private money manager
embezzled their savings.
Greenberg came to prominence in the New
York art world's Wild West
days: issues of conflict of interest were
not closely scrutinized
because money was so scarce, and everyone,
critics included,
usually wore several hats. When he was
regularly reviewing during
the 1940's and early 50's, for example,
Greenberg supported himself
by working as an editor, first at Partisan
Review and then at
Commentary. After that he taught, lectured
and consulted, most
notoriously in 1959 and 1960 for French &
Company, a gallery that
showed Mr. Noland and Louis. Thereafter
Greenberg's enemies often
accused him of being an art dealer.
If any art collection is a kind of
self-portrait, however, this
one portrays its subject as something of a
coach, working with a
few chosen players whom he considered
outstanding. He loved to go
to studios of the artists he was close to,
look at works in
progress and sometimes advise on their
completion, and he liked to
boast that he had never paid for a work of
art.
In the 1960's especially, when the Color
Field market was booming,
he helped the artists name works, select
pieces for shows and
install them. He was often repaid with
paintings. Some people who
knew him well say he expected that favors
done for artists be
returned with art.
Not surprisingly, the collection is shaped
like a self-enclosed
huddle, or an inverted pyramid. The artists
whose reputations were
most completely dependent upon Greenberg
were most generous;
therefore the collection expands as the
critic and his team became
increasingly isolated from the mainstream.
In these days of celebrity auctions, the
preservation of the
holdings of someone as important as
Greenberg is welcome news. (In
contrast, the large collection amassed by
Greenberg's chief rival,
the critic Harold Rosenberg, was auctioned
after his death.) Still,
the Clement Greenberg Collection hardly does
justice to this critic
or his famous eye, much less his critical
accomplishment, nor
should it be expected to.
For the most part Greenberg's collection
represents him at his
most doctrinaire and narrow, stubbornly
ignoring many of his own
best ideas: about the unpredictability of
art and aesthetic
response, for example, or the importance of
materials and visual
vitality.
Especially after 1955, Greenberg's career
was increasingly a case
of "Do as I say, not as I do." His ideas
about history and
aesthetics were almost always more
interesting than any specific
use he made of them. His collection reflects
this sad condition.
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Leonard Pulver
> By ROBERTA SMITH
>
> This persistent fascination with Greenberg,
> who died in 1994,
> extends to his art collection, the
> acquisition of which was
> announced last month by the Portland Art
> Museum in Oregon.
>
> The Greenberg Collection, as it is now
> called, contains 152 works
> by 58 American, Canadian and European
> artists, nearly all of whom
> are new to the museum's collection. The
> Portland museum, founded in
> 1892, is the oldest in the Northwest, with
> extensive holdings in
> American, European, Asian, African and
> especially American Indian
> art.
This collection is a real coup for the Portland
Museum, far greater than for perhaps any
other major museum in the country because
it fills a huge hole in its 20th century
collection.
For about 25 years Clem Greenberg
exercised more influence on what
was painted, what was exhibited, by
whom, and what went in what museum
and what was collected by whom than
anyone since Lord Duveen.
To illustrate Joe Duveen's clout, as well
as his chutzpah, I will tell a story.
Andrew Mellon coveted a particular
Rembrant painting that was coming
on the market and he asked his dealer
to acquire it for him. Duveen did paying
about $300,000 for it. ( a lot in 1930).
Duveen shipped it to Pittsburgh and
when he got it Mr. Mellon was very
happy..... until he got the bill for $500K.
Mellon phoned Duveen in London to
protest. You only paid $300,000 for it
Why are you charging me so much?
Well said Duveen. at the auction it
was only a Rembrant, now it is a
DUVEEN!
A dear friend of mine in NY who
was a friend of the Guggenheim
sisters (but not in that financial
bracket) had a small collection.
Each piece selected for her by
Clem and paid for on time. I seem
to recall that she had 10 pieces
which would make her net worth
in the $2+ million range. Everything
he touched became solid gold. Her
cost was somewhere between $10
and $15k altogether.
All of Clem's collection was gifts or
swaps. Like a dentist I knew with a
practice in the Village. He of course
had a great number of artist patients.
He also had a large collection
because there are few artists that
are not living on the edge and he
traded dental work for art work.
Eventually he opened a gallery just
to sell his collection.
I just wish I could get to Portland to
to see it. Maybe next year!!