While this is not always true, often you can tell a documentary is good because it has a strong visceral effect. As I watched "The Art of the Steal", I had this effect...in spades. And, like a good documentary, it definitely swayed me over to their cause. Convincing the viewer of a cause is definitely what this film does.
The film is about the Barnes Foundation. I knew little about it other than my daughter ADORES the place and tried to take me their recently--only to learn its been closed while the collection is begin relocated...but I am getting ahead of myself...
Dr. Albert C. Barnes was a very rich man who was one of the earliest collectors of Post-impressionist paintings. While museums were still emphasizing classical paintings, Barnes was snatching up Renoirs, Van Goghs and Cezannes in order to build a very, very strong collection. However, Barnes had an unusual vision. He wanted to create his foundation--sort of like an art school and art gallery. But, he disliked the traditional sort of museum and created a truly unique sort of gallery. And, when he died, he set up an extremely detailed trust that outlined exactly what would happen to his collection in perpetuity. The paintings, now seen as the preeminent collection in the world of its type, were not allowed to be sold, loaned out or moved in any way. Barnes wanted his collection to stay the way it was forever. And, considering it was his collection, he certainly had a right to this.
The like of Barnes and creation of the Foundation is all discussed in the first portion of the documentary. What follows is a gradual erosion of the trust--how over the years folks have worked hard to break up or change Barnes' VERY specific and exceptionally clear instructions. First, there was a guy named Glanton. Being a lawyer, you know that he hasn't a soul. His aim was to exploit the collection--sending it on traveling exhibitions and raising money--things the charter forbade. I thoroughly disliked the man as portrayed in the film--especially since, unless it was misrepresented, he was a race-baiter who used ridiculous allegations of racism to bully the neighbors surrounding the Barnes. But, as it turned out, he was a downright saint compared to the folks who followed...and their plans were to pretty much destroy that which Barnes worked so hard to create.
I guess my reason for such a strong visceral reaction is that the film made me mad. The notion that the government or a powerful city bullying and using lawsuits to get their way is un-American--or at least that's how it seems to me. If you want to see exactly why I became so infuriated, see the film. Perhaps you'll see the problems with the Barnes differently--as for me, I sure found myself agreeing wholeheartedly with the filmmakers.
The film is about the Barnes Foundation. I knew little about it other than my daughter ADORES the place and tried to take me their recently--only to learn its been closed while the collection is begin relocated...but I am getting ahead of myself...
Dr. Albert C. Barnes was a very rich man who was one of the earliest collectors of Post-impressionist paintings. While museums were still emphasizing classical paintings, Barnes was snatching up Renoirs, Van Goghs and Cezannes in order to build a very, very strong collection. However, Barnes had an unusual vision. He wanted to create his foundation--sort of like an art school and art gallery. But, he disliked the traditional sort of museum and created a truly unique sort of gallery. And, when he died, he set up an extremely detailed trust that outlined exactly what would happen to his collection in perpetuity. The paintings, now seen as the preeminent collection in the world of its type, were not allowed to be sold, loaned out or moved in any way. Barnes wanted his collection to stay the way it was forever. And, considering it was his collection, he certainly had a right to this.
The like of Barnes and creation of the Foundation is all discussed in the first portion of the documentary. What follows is a gradual erosion of the trust--how over the years folks have worked hard to break up or change Barnes' VERY specific and exceptionally clear instructions. First, there was a guy named Glanton. Being a lawyer, you know that he hasn't a soul. His aim was to exploit the collection--sending it on traveling exhibitions and raising money--things the charter forbade. I thoroughly disliked the man as portrayed in the film--especially since, unless it was misrepresented, he was a race-baiter who used ridiculous allegations of racism to bully the neighbors surrounding the Barnes. But, as it turned out, he was a downright saint compared to the folks who followed...and their plans were to pretty much destroy that which Barnes worked so hard to create.
I guess my reason for such a strong visceral reaction is that the film made me mad. The notion that the government or a powerful city bullying and using lawsuits to get their way is un-American--or at least that's how it seems to me. If you want to see exactly why I became so infuriated, see the film. Perhaps you'll see the problems with the Barnes differently--as for me, I sure found myself agreeing wholeheartedly with the filmmakers.