Haggerty Museum of Art highlights a major donation

Robert Rauschenburg

When I think “art collector” I must admit the image that comes most readily to mind is one of a person with substantial means at his or her disposal; an Andrew Carnegie or Peggy Guggenheim. And certainly an “art collection” that includes large scale works by the likes of Andy Warhol, Robert Rauschenburg, Ellsworth Kelly, Chuck Close, and too many other major artists to list must confirm this stereotypical image, mustn’t it? Well, much to my surprise I had to park that bias at the doors of the Haggerty Art Museum when I went there to see the current exhibit, “Selections from the Mary and Michael J. Tatalovich Collection.”

What I found most sobering, however, was not simply the remarkably perceptive choices made by these two collectors that were acquired with limited resources. It was to be confronted with the unassailable notion that, but for some art world savvy and a healthy dose of persistence, I might have amassed a collection of similar proportions. A profound revelation in this large and exemplary exhibition of outstanding modern and contemporary artists was that Mary and Michael Tatalovich managed to collect it during their careers as teachers in the Milwaukee Public Schools.

Richard Serra

Please don’t misunderstand me: this exhibition needs no such compelling narrative. It stands on its own merits and can be fully appreciated without reading the wall text that reveals this personal tidbit of information. I particularly liked discovering Richard Serra’s enormous etching, called Bo Diddley, which I’d never seen before. Serra can leave me hot or cold, depending on the piece and the context. This one works for me - but you have to see in situ. The scale is essential.

If, like me, you haven’t been to see it before now, try to make it before it closes on August 5.

Tom Arndt

While you’re there, be sure to stop by the small galleries to see two more modest exhibits that feature the photography of Tom Arndt and Mark Ruwedel. All of these shows close August 5.

Mark Ruwedel

You can read more about all of these exhibits at Third CoastDigest. Reviewer Brian Jacobson was more on the ball than I and filed his piece in June. But you still have 6 days to get over there!

"Priceless" artwork worth nothing or $65 million?

"What is the fair market value of an object that cannot be sold?" asks Patricia Cohen in a New York Times article about a masterpiece by Robert Rauschenburg. Cohen likens the question to a Zen koan, which is a statement or question used in Zen practice that often contains a paradoxical element.

But the more I read about the controversy that has erupted over the difference between the artwork's appraised value versus its tax value, the more it reminded me of a Catch-22. Joseph Heller's 1961 book was set in Italy during World War II. The term Catch-22 referred to government (military) regulations that involved circular reasoning to arrive at an impossible conclusion. Heller's satirical conceit so caught the imagination of the country that the term quickly entered the lexicon and is often used rather loosely.

However, it applies perfectly to the question of the fair market value of Rauschenburg's piece, which is called Canyon.

Canyon, Rauschenberg Estate/Licensed by VAGA, NY

As you can see, Rauschenburg included a stuffed bird in this example of one of what he called "combines" - a painting combined with assemblage. But that's not just any bird; it's a bald eagle, which is a federally protected endangered species. Because of that the painting, although legal to own, can never be sold. Therefore its appraised value is zero.

But the IRS demurs, says it's worth $65 million and expects a tax payment of $29.2 million!

You cannot sell - so says the government - so it's worth nothing; the same government demands taxes on a value of $65 million; but don't try to sell it to make the tax payment: Catch-22.

The fact that we're talking about a wealthy collector who could afford to make that tax payment doesn't change the principle, which potentially could be applied in cases that would financially ruin someone less fortunate. Or is this simply too unique a situation to make that case?

Is this another example of "big government" over-controlling personal and civil liberties? It's more complicated than that, of course. Read the whole article to get some of the nuances. But here's an appropriately cynical quote from Heller's book: "Catch-22 says they have a right to do anything we can't stop them from doing."

But wait! What was Rauschenburg thinking, I have to wonder, when he knowingly used a bald eagle in this work? Or Sonnabend, the art dealer/collector, who obtained the non-salable but highly valuable piece from the artist? Perhaps the (absent) monetary value deliberately was being pitted against or contrasted with inherent artistic value. It's an intriguing story any way you dice it. Priceless.

New book about John Cage’s 4’33”

Who knew that four minutes and 33 seconds of silence could generate so much talk? Or, in this case, written words. Of course, this isn’t just any random four and a half minutes in time (although, paradoxically and not coincidentally, it could be). 4’33” is the title of John Cage’s most famous and controversial musical composition and the subject of a new book, titled No Such Thing as Silence: John Cage’s 4’33” by Kyle Gann.

For the uninitiated, the composition called 4’33” was first performed in 1952 by pianist David Tudor in an open air theater in Woodstock, NY. Tudor did not play the piano, however, because the piece requires the musician and any musical instrument present to remain silent during the titular duration of the performance. An audience that is prepared for this will also remain, if not silent, at least respectfully quiet. As the title of the book suggests, the experience yields something other than silence. What they hear is whatever random noises the environment of the venue provides. Audiences that were not prepared for this have been known to react less charitably.

Whether 4’33” is “the apotheosis of twentieth-century music” or a scandal depends on one’s point of view. Although I’ve been aware since I was very young of the sensation caused by this piece, not being a musician, it was never more than a curiosity in the back of my mind. Gann’s book, which I picked up from the library on a whim, has been a surprising treat. I freely admit that, although I “get it,” I’m not a big fan of either minimalism or pure conceptualism in art. This piece stands as one of the monumental achievements of both in music. That I found the story of its creation compelling is a tribute to the author, who writes without the dense academic jargon normally associated with such work.

I must confess that, even after reading the book, I mentally roll my eyes when 4’33” is described as being “composed.” The score, which adorns the book cover (right), is a page full of blank staffs. But I found the book compelling for another reason: I love the story of Cage’s creative process and the transformation of his thinking over time. This sounds paradoxical, but it took years to complete a work that contains not a single note. Cage originally conceived it as an expression of silence and had planned to title it “Silent Prayer.” But he gradually concluded that there is “no such thing as silence.” His composition would frame the period of time during which it would be the audience’s responsibility to perceive the world. Hence the title 4’33”.

Among Cage’s many influences was the equally seminal—and controversial—artist Robert Rauschenberg, whose white paintings of 1951 (see below) were the visual equivalent of silent music. Other influences range from Erik Satie, to Muzak, to Zen Buddhism and the I Ching. Cage in turn had a profound effect upon a younger generation of composers whose repertoire of sounds that could be considered musical had suddenly become unbound and infinite.