On
November 9, 2005, Notre Dame's third professional museum director,
Chuck Loving, and his staff, celebrated the 25th anniversary of
the Snite Museum of Art. During 1980 to 2005, The Snite Museum
of Art emerged from an all-too-often-expressed "the best kept
secret" reputation, earning its place among the elite of university
art museums. It owes much of its success to hundreds of individuals
and organizations who, in partnership, formed a great team.
That team was filled with visionaries who built, sustained and
promoted the O'Shaughnessy Art Gallery and The Snite Museum of
Art far beyond even the loftiest of expectations. On this anniversary,
we celebrate Rev. Anthony J. Lauck, CSC, Notre Dame's first professional
museum director (from the early1950s until 1974) and the man who
set the example for the museum professionals who followed; the
benefactors who displayed uncommon generosity in their donations
of art and cash; volunteers who became "tenured" teachers in the
museum's galleries; a lively membership organization, the Friends;
and two administrations whose imagination and trust inspired the
museum's growth. Nor should the staff be forgotten; many of their
professional careers at Notre Dame predate the Snite Museum's
1980 opening. The museum's four curators of collections have labored
nearly 80 years combined. Curator of Education Diana C.J. Matthias
'79 and Registrar Robert Smogor began their careers shortly after
the Snite opened in 1982. Few university museums can boast of
such continuity and dedication.
As director of the O'Shaughnessy Hall Art Gallery and the Snite
Museum of Art (1974 to 1999) and as a devoted student of Father
Lauck, my role in Notre Dame's museums was determined early -
to build a pre-eminent museum. For nearly four decades I was fortunate
to work with wonderful individuals. And, more important, I worked
for a university that stood for excellence. Unlike many university
museum directors, I did not have to raise money to cover general
operations. It was not in my job description - the galleries would
always be open. Proceeds from the directors' fund-raising efforts
would be used to enhance collections and programs.
Collecting can be traced to the early years of Notre Dame's
founding. An institution with its rich history also had its collections
of art and artifacts. Tragically, much was lost when an 1879 fire
reduced the Main Building and its contents to a pile of smoldering
ashes. Even though Notre Dame's founder, Father Edward Sorin,
CSC, and many Holy Cross brothers rebuilt it, beginning before
the ashes cooled, art was important to the French priest. Five
years earlier Father Sorin convinced the pope to send Luigi Gregori
to Notre Dame where, in 16 years (1874-1891), the Italian artist
painted the stations of the cross and several murals in Sacred
Heart Basilica, the Columbus cycle (1880-1881) in the Main Building,
as well as a host of easel-size paintings, religions scenes and
portraits of historical figures. In 1880, Notre Dame's first Distinguished
Artist-in-Residence had access to some Native American artifacts
owned by the University, which he employed as props in his Columbus
murals. When Gregori returned to Italy in 1891, he also left behind
a collection of average quality, mid-18th century Italian drawings.
Collecting at Notre Dame from 1875 to 1925 had a few noteworthy
moments. In 1899, the "Buckeye missionary," Reverend E.W.J. Lindesmith,
donated several wooden crates filled with Native American artifacts
gathered during his work in the West. In the 1910s and '20s, Notre
Dame attempted to build an art collection that reflected its Catholic
character. Sadly, even though the early collection, consisting
of the Braschi Purchase (1917) and Wightman Memorial Collection
(1924), bore the names for the great Old Masters, the canvases
were often poor copies. However, with pride and much fanfare,
they went on view in the top floor of the University's library
(today the School of Architecture).
Reverend Theodore M. Hesburgh, CSC, president emeritus, recalled
his student days when he had to climb three flights of stairs
and locate a key to the Wightman Memorial Art Gallery. After turning
on the lights, he saw a collection of "impostors," paintings with
overly ambitious, sometimes embarrassing attributions. The poorly
illuminated paintings were hung under windows, over water fountains
and between stacks of books.
It wasn't a tragedy that the University's most important treasures,
the Native American objects in the Lindesmith and other early
collections, went into dead storage. Indian artifacts were not
in vogue during the war years, and by keeping them in dead storage
the University actually maintained them in a better state of preservation.
Today several pieces of consummate quality form the core of a
fine Native American collection.
Serious collecting begins
Reverend John J. Cavanaugh, CSC, planted the first seeds of building
a serious collection of art. He began by working with
the Saint Paul, Minnesota, philanthropist and president of Globe
Oil and Refining of Minneapolis, Ignatius A. O'Shaughnessy. Together
they planned O'Shaughnessy Hall, a building that would house the
College of Arts and Letters and the Art Gallery, a space designed
to professionally house and exhibit art. In 1952, Cavanaugh turned
over the presidential reins to the 35-year-old Hesburgh, the same
year the O'Shaughnessy Hall College of Arts and Letters opened
its doors.
Besides accepting the daunting task of running one of America's
most celebrated and revered institutions of higher education,
Father Hesburgh received some unusual instructions: "Father Cavanaugh
directed me to visit three widows of Notre Dame trustees, Mrs.
Keenan, Mrs. Stanford and Mrs. Fred J. (Sally) Fisher." He did.
In particular, Cavanaugh asked Hesburgh to take Sally Fisher
dancing. A surprised Hesburgh responded "I don't know how to dance
anymore." Yet, it wasn't long before he found himself flying to
New York, picking up two friends - a married couple - and Sally
Fisher. The four went to the Waldorf Astoria, and while Guy Lombardo's
big band played, Hesburgh remained on the sidelines, certainly
one of those rare times he found himself in that position.
In a subsequent meeting, Fisher donated a quality collection
of Old Master paintings to Notre Dame. Finally, Notre Dame was
in a position to demonstrate how serious it was about elevating
the status of art on campus. Several 18th century French and English
portraits are today among the museum's master works. In 1967,
my predecessor, John Howett, wrote: "The Fisher collection added
a necessary core of first-rate paintings to the Notre Dame holdings."
Highlighting the gift was Francois Boucher's Offering of
the Rose, painted in 1765, the same year he was appointed
the First Painter to the King of France. It has delighted hundreds
of thousands. In 1968, Dr. John Maxon, director of the Art Institute
of Chicago, called it Notre Dame's most important painting. Thirty
years later, a young man chose Junior Parent Weekend to successfully
propose marriage, in front of Boucher's Offering of the Rose.
By the 1970s, under Father Lauck's inspired leadership, the
art collections and programs had outgrown the 16,000-square-foot
Art Gallery. In 1971, attendance soared to more than 52,000 visitors.
The vaults overflowed, numbering between 3,000 and 4,000 works
of art, including an interesting collection of Medieval Madonnas.
Lauck, who had served as chairman of the Department of Art and
the director of the gallery, stepped down as chairman to concentrate
on directing the Art Gallery. With facilities designed to properly
preserve and exhibit art, the collections experienced a period
of significant growth and quality. According to surviving records,
the collections numbered over 300 works of art in 1934 and about
1,000 at the time of Hesburgh's meetings with Sally Fisher. By
1966 and the publication of Handbook of the Collections Art
Gallery University of Notre Dame, objects numbered about
3,000. A decade later, the year of the Snite gift to build a new
museum, the collection had grown to 4,000 objects.
Meeting the Snites
By 1974, it had become obvious that we needed to expand our facilities.
We faced several problems. Notre Dame had declared a moratorium
on the construction of new buildings. This, coupled with the cost
of even an addition connecting the O'Shaughnessy Hall Art Gallery
to the Ivan Mestrovic Studio, would be expensive. The answer to
our problems was Colonel Fred B. Snite of Chicago and his family.
I first met the colonel in 1967, on a cold, windy football Saturday
when he brought two Old Master paintings, proposed gifts to the
Art Gallery. After unloading the blanket-wrapped canvases from
the trunk of his automobile and transferring them to a cab to
transport them from the Morris Inn to the Art Gallery, he paid
the $5 fare and carried one of the canvases the last 50 yards.
At the time, Colonel Snite was a proud man whose age was in the
upper 80s. I was impressed with his strength and pride and was
convinced that his name should appear on our "addition."
We met with Fred Snite and his family several times to discuss
funding. During an April 1975 visit to Colonel Snite's winter
home in Miami, Curator Richard J. Conyers, CSC, and I had a successful
meeting with the family. They agreed to give $2 million for the
construction of a building that "68,000 would see every football
Saturday." While this may have been a point which convinced the
Colonel that a museum would make an important contribution to
the Notre Dame experience, he was much more interested in having
the world know about the role that he and his son Frederick, confined
to an iron lung for 18 years, had in conquering the dreaded disease
- polio.
The Snite family and Notre Dame had to overcome obstacles in
achieving the shared goal of the "addition." On McConyers' and
my Friday the 13th flight home, the pilot announced that we had
some unwanted baggage aboard the plane. We made an emergency landing
in Atlanta; I left my row-13 aisle seat and headed to the exit
with a copy of our 13-page proposal. After deplaning, we stood
in the middle of a field, far from the terminal, and watched a
silver truck pull up. A group of orange-clad men removed a large
silver container from the hold of the plane. To this day I do
not know if the "unwanted baggage" was a bomb or not. The stewardess
certainly thought it was.
The adventure of the colonel's gift continued eight months later.
After his company, Local Loan, sold to the Mellon Foundation,
the family agreed to travel to Notre Dame to make the grand presentation.
We also planned to have Colonel Snite and his family turn the
first spade of dirt. But winter came early. Our biggest concern
was getting the spade into the frozen ground. Prior to the Snites'
arrival, we managed to dig up sufficient turf and mix hay with
it. We had a five-handled silver-plated shovel, one for each member
of the family and Father Ted. While our problem was relatively
easy to solve, the Snite family - the Colonel, Mary Loretto. Terrence
Dillon '32 and Tessie Snite -- had a near disaster on their trip
from Chicago. A semi dumped a load of steel in front of their
car, narrowly missing them.
Noticeably shaken, they arrived two hours late. After a short
ground-breaking ceremony and lunch, Colonel Snite, with a big
smile, presented his gift and asked Father Ted: "Do you know why
I waited to sign the check now?" Father Ted answered "No." The
colonel responded, "So the good Lord would get us here." Father
Ted's response was immediate: "Colonel, how are you getting home?"
With the promise of a new facility the collection more than
doubled, ballooning to about 12,000 in 1980, the year The Snite
Museum of Art opened. According to the museum registrar's records,
25 years later the collection numbers 22,000 objects.
A cadre of benefactors
The remarkable growth of the collection was due in no small part
to continuity, teamwork, close friendships and the 52,000 square
foot "addition." For about a quarter of a century, beginning in
the 1950s, Father Lauck had set the stage for those who followed.
He developed a strong cadre of dedicated benefactors. During his
tenure, principle support came from three cities - New York, Chicago
and his hometown, Indianapolis.
Few of the museum's early benefactors were alumni. In our 1969
Benefactors at Notre Dame catalogue, Lauck postulated
that the Irish were generally not collectors -- they were writers.
He found that the strongest benefactors were often Jewish, and
he courted them religiously. In Chicago, Lauck and a member of
his acquisition committee, Professor Thomas Stritch, were frequent
visitors to the home of Mr. and Mrs. Joseph Randall Shapiro. There
they saw breathtaking Picassos, Matisses, Miros and other works
by pivotal figures of 20th century art. As early as 1954 the Shapiros
rewarded the Notre Dame duo and the Art Gallery by donating important
works, most notably the powerful watercolors by the German Expressionists
Max Pechstein, Eric Heckel and Emil Nolde, as well as sculptures
by the Englishman Henry Moore. The Shapiros' donations of 20th
century art came at a time when gifts to Notre Dame were more
often than not religious in character.
Lauck was also successful in his hometown of Indianapolis. H.
Nelson Deranian, a retired Washington lawyer, returned to Indianapolis
in 1954 and then donated one of the museum's most important acquisitions,
Claude Lorrain's Rest on the Flight to Egypt. He had
planned on presenting the painting to Washington's National Gallery
of Art, but Judd Leighton of South Bend and Lauck teamed up and
convinced Nelson that Notre Dame's Art Gallery would be a place
that would welcome and exhibit the painting on a regular
basis. Like Lauck's relationship to the Jewish collectors in New
York and Chicago, it is an early example of the adage "People
give to people."
While Notre Dame was known for its religious art, in retrospect
the Art Gallery's most important examples were creations of the
American West. During the early 1960s, networking between Father
Hesburgh, his friends and alumni created a significant collection
of Western art. In 1962, C.R. Smith, chairman of the board of
American Airlines and an important collector of Western art, offered
Father Ted a choice - $50,000 or Charles Marion Russell's The
World Was All Before Them (or The Romance Makers).
He chose the latter, a painting that was called by scholar Fred
Renner "the second best picture ever painted by Russell." It is
also the Snite Museum's most valuable painting.
John T. Higgins, class of 1927, found that four canvases painted
by his brother Victor in Taos, New Mexico, were too large for
their modest-size Birmingham, Michigan, home and donated them
to his alma matter. At the same time, brothers Walter J. and William
J. Klauer were faced with a problem of critical proportions. They
had sold their Hotel Julian in Dubuque, Iowa, that was decorated
with 20 large paintings by Walter Ufer, another Taos artist. With
no place to show or store the expensive paintings, the Klauers
phoned Father Jerome Wilson, CSC, executive vice president for
business affairs. They told him that Notre Dame could have the
paintings if they were removed from the hotel by midnight that
day. Even though the Klauers' annual gifts included much-needed
equipment like a Klauer Manufacturing-produced snowplow, and Father
Wilson knew nothing about the artist, the priest dispatched the
truck on a 500-mile round trip to Iowa. Today Their Audience
- Taos Women, one of Ufer's most important canvases, is considered
to be one of the museum's masterpieces. In the 1990s, the paintings
by Higgins and Ufer were the focal pieces in major traveling exhibitions.
The addition of the Bronco Buster by Frederic Remington,
an icon of Western sculpture, as well as additional paintings
and sculptures by Albert Bierstadt, Thomas Moran, George Winter,
and a dozen more watercolors and oils by Higgins, ranks Notre
Dame's Western holdings as good as any university collection west
of the Mississippi.
Advisory Council begins
In 1968, Father Lauck formed an advisory council. This was one
of the earliest, finest and most effective university art museum
councils in the country. A founding member and distinguished librarian
of the Walters Art Gallery in Baltimore, summarized Lauck's persistence
- "he wouldn't take no for an answer." A distinguished assembly
of museum directors, collectors and friends also accepted Lauck's
invitation. Their good work led to the collection's growth, challenging
exhibitions and University approval to build the Snite Museum
of Art.
The council met twice a year - working three days, frequently
returning their football tickets so they could spend their valuable
campus time in the Art Gallery. Besides offering excellent counsel,
they were also magnificent benefactors. One of their first jobs
was to examine the entire collection, ranking it according to
quality and appropriateness to the art galley's mission. They
provided the staff of the Art Gallery with an effective program
to finally purge the collection of remaining "imposters." After
25 years, the Art Gallery was able to rid itself of a stigma that
characterized so many university museums - that of being a dumping
ground for works of lesser quality and relevance.
Advisory Council members also began to look into their own collections
to see what would improve the quality of the Art Gallery's holdings.
During a 1968 meeting, New York collector May E. Walter, without
fanfare or audience, outlined her plan to donate her entire collection
of modern art to Notre Dame. I was stunned and euphoric. Many
times Father Lauck and I had visited her home at 725 Fifth Avenue
and marveled at her wonderful collection. During the years following,
Walter donated some of the museum's most important 20th century
sculptures, paintings and drawings. And on November 9, 1980, she
helped us celebrate the opening of the Snite with the donation
of Joseph Alber's Homage to the Square - Compliant, an
important canvas by Yale University's most influential educator
and color theorist.
When May Walter died in 1992, I had the sad task of traveling
to New York to supervise the packing of her entire art collection.
She had kept her promise; her bequest included paintings by Jean
Metzinger, Joan Miró, Natalie Goncharova, among others.
Our 20th century holdings had been promoted to a level of significance
worthy of the space devoted to it.
As Walter Beardsley of Elkhart, Indiana, closed his office in
Miles Laboratory, he wrote "Notre Dame" on yellow stickers affixed
to the frames of Georgia O'Keeffe's Blue and Rufino Tamayo's
Man with a Guitar. When Al Nathe saw George Rickey's
kinetic sculpture missing from its pedestal in the museum's courtyard,
he commanded: "Bring it back!" When Dorothy Griffin learned that
Lauck was saddened (as was this writer) when the museum couldn't
afford William Zorach's handsome reliefs in walnut called Family
Group, she provided the funds for their acquisition. Such
stories of Advisory Council members' participation could fill
volumes.
New Yorker Janos Scholz, professional cellist, collector and
educator, made Notre Dame his pet project. As one of our most
active Council members, Janos recognized that we had a need he
could satisfy. In the 1970s, Notre Dame's Art Department's photography
program, guided by Professor Richard Stevens, was beginning to
flourish. In light of this and the new director's passion for
photography, Janos came to our rescue. He began to present large
numbers of European photographs to Notre Dame. His collection
focused on the early years of photography, 1840 to 1875. From
1974 until his death in 1993, the Art Gallery's collection grew
from one photograph - and that slipped into the collection on
the back of a mount of a Luigi Gregori drawing - to more than
7,000 images.
In 1980, I visited Daniel Wolf's photography gallery in New
York. While we had a good collection of Robert MacPherson's European
views, I saw his stunning Waterfalls at Tivoli, and I
knew this classic image belonged at Notre Dame. Unfortunately
we didn't have $1,250 in our budget. Expenses related to the construction
and installation of the Snite had drained all of our resources,
and I had to pass on it. During a subsequent visit to the gallery,
I was dismayed to learn that it had been sold. When I spoke to
Janos about my experience, he responded with his characteristic
jovial smile: "Don't worry my boy, it is yours." Janos' generosity
also compelled me to hire a full-time curator of photography,
Stephen Moriarty '69, '80M.A.
Deciding on collections
In the late 1970s, The Snite Museum was in its final planning
stages. Council member Stephen Spiro had met Cleveland residents
Muriel and Noah L. Butkin in the Shepherd Gallery, New York. Muriel
collected French drawings, Noah French oil sketches, both areas
that Spiro specializes in. With these shared interests and passions,
over the next several years Spiro, along with his wife, Judy,
were frequent visitors to Cleveland. They formed a close friendship
with Butkins. Trip after trip, they brought wonderful Dutch paintings,
drawings, English silver, sculptures and, of course, French oil
sketches back to Notre Dame. Tragically, before Noah ever saw
Notre Dame, he suffered a heart attack in the winter of 1980.
He died a day later, but not before he and Muriel made a decision.
As Noah was on the board of the Cleveland Museum of Art, it would
receive their large paintings, but Notre Dame would be the beneficiary
of the oil sketch collection. No single gift would contribute
more significantly to Notre Dame's international reputation.
Even before the Butkin bequest, we planned a substantial space
for 19th century European art. Our ability to show a large percentage
of this unique collection at one time, curated by Spiro, was also
a factor in Butkins' decision. They also decided to make an annual
cash gift to Notre Dame to add to the collection - the number
of acquisitions purchased through their generosity now numbers
two dozen.
Another area that had long been of concern to me was our Old
Master drawing collection. Nothing is more important to the artistic
process than drawing - sometimes a preliminary sketch, other times
an independent work of art. A fine and effective university museum,
with aspirations to teach, must have a collection of Old Master
drawings. Janos Scholz counseled me that it was too late to form
one, and he was right. We could accomplish little even if we directed
our entire, embarrassingly low, annual acquisitions budget to
the purchase of Old Master drawings. However, Janos also taught
me to dream, think big.
I, along with so many of his students, never forgot Janos' inspirational
advice, admittedly given with gusto and theatrics. What Janos
and I could never have anticipated was the arrival of Jack Reilly
'63 on the scene. I met Reilly during one of Notre Dame's "Fly
IN" weekends and was immediately impressed with his enthusiasm
for art and the Snite Museum. Reilly initially expressed interest
in American paintings. He had been deeply moved by paintings by
"The Eight" and other American masters at the National Gallery.
We met in New York and visited several galleries specializing
in American art. After we saw a lovely, small canvas by William
Merritt Chase priced at $600,000, it was clear that if Reilly
was going to be a serious collector it would have to be in some
other area. By the 1980s most university museums were priced out
of the market. American paintings of quality were prohibitively
expensive.
Disappointed but not deterred, we walked a few blocks to the
Shepherd Gallery on Madison Avenue. Spiro had arranged for Jack
to see a collection of 65 fine Old Master drawings, assembled
and refined by the distinguished scholar John Minor Wisdom. On
that day, a dream came true. Jack acquired the collection and
began a partnership with Spiro (now the Reilly Curator of European
Art). Over the next 20 years, the two accomplished the unbelievable
- the creation of a serious, high-quality collection of Old Master
drawings, today the envy of many university museums. In an act
of uncommon munificence, agreement between Reilly and Spiro meant
the drawings would be shipped immediately to Notre Dame. Since
1986, more than 475 drawings by some of the great masters of European
and American art have been added to the collection.
Rembrandt
While my 25 years in the Snite coincides with the emergence of
Notre Same alumni as major contributors to the museum's collections
and programs, in 1992, on the occasion of the University's sesquicentennial
celebration, a quiet couple from Elkhart, Indiana, made a decision
that was to again make an incredible difference. Alfrieda and
Jack Feddersen, holding degrees from five other institutions of
higher education, donated 72 Old and New Testament etchings by
the Dutch master Rembrandt. The Feddersens, in a thoughtful move,
transferred title to Notre Dame, but with certain restrictions.
The collection had to be shown in its entirety once every three
years, and at least five works had to be shown the other two years.
The Feddersens were safeguarding against a practice that occurs
all too often in the museum world. Collections are donated and
received with enthusiasm, only to fall out of favor with succeeding
administrations and/or curatorial staffs. All too often, fine
collections are sentenced to dark vaults or languish in solandar
boxes (storage containers for works on paper).
Like so many of the museum's benefactors, Milly and Fritz Kaeser
were not alumni nor had they ever attended a Notre Dame football
game. They devoted the last years of their lives to Notre Dame
because of the love for Hesburgh and for Ivan Mestrovic, the famed
Croation sculptor whom the president and Father Lauck brought
to Notre Dame in 1955. The Kaesers began a trend to honor Mestrovic
by endowing the Distinguished Sculptor-in-Residences's studio,
as well as creating an endowment for liturgical art.
Another couple, Jeannie and Russell (Pete) C. Ashbaugh, class
of 1948, had displayed their passion for Mestrovic's sculpture.
In 1974, they acquired The Ashbaugh Madonna for Notre
Dame, an important early work by the "Maestro" fashioned from
French walnut. After the museum renovated Mestrovic's studio and
installed his work in 1980, Jeannie and Pete volunteered to provide
funds to pay for the Mestrovic Family Collection. Mestrovic's
wife, Olga, died in 1984, and Father Hesburgh authorized me to
aquire a collection of some 298 sculptures, paintings, drawings
and lithographs.
While I outlined a plan for reimbursement to pay for the Mestrovic
Family Collection, I was surprised when Jeannie and Pete volunteered
to cover the cost of the acquisition and care of the collection.
A few years later, they made it possible to acquire the sculptor's
1922 marble, My Mother. Bud Swinson soon joined the team
and purchased Mestrovic's 1917 marble, Mother and Child,
another key work for the Maestro, created while he was a member
of Vienna Secession movement. Today, no museum outside of Croatia
has a more extensive collection of Mestrovic's works.
It wasn't uncommon for a curator to come to me after securing
the right of first refusal on an important work of art. Our acquisitions
fund was usually depleted, preventing us from making major acquisitions.
Consequently, I would turn to the University for an interest-free
loan. The museum was often advanced substantial sums so we could
acquire works important to the growth of our collections. All
that was required from the museum director was the assurance reimbursement
was forthcoming.
Milly Kaeser's love for Notre Dame and her philanthropy extended
beyond Ivan Mestrovic. "Fritzi" (as Milly liked to call her husband)
was also a fine photographer. During his lifetime, he donated
several hundred photographs to Notre Dame. He thought he had presented
a complete set of his works to the University. However, he had
overlooked a 1977 photo session in Abiquiu, New Mexico - with
Georgia O'Keeffe!
After he died in 1990, Milly was deeply concerned with what
to do with her "beloved Fritzi's" photographs. We carefully examined
the collection, discussing each image. When I told Milly that
we would welcome the opportunity to become custodian of his oeuvre,
she extended her hands in an attitude of prayer and thanked
God for the decision we had made. Milly also decided to establish
an endowment for photography, thus assuring in this critical area
that curator Steven Moriarty would be able to create collections
of American photographs to complement the Janos Scholz Collection
of European Photographs.
The ethnograhics collection
Another area the museum takes special pride in is its ethnographics
collection. Douglas Bradley, class of 1971, recently celebrated
his 25th year with the Snite. Starting with a skeletal collection
of average-quality works, Bradley created a remarkable collection
of Pre-Classic Pre-Columbian art, with special emphasis on Olmec
art that is unique and outstanding. There are those who claim
that it is rivaled only by museums in Mexico.
Growth of the permanent collections of Pre-Columbian, African
and Native American art, like virtually every area in the Snite,
has been through the munificence of many. Bradley developed a
large base of support; the names Alsdorf, Leighton, Joralemon,
Doran, Lake, Gallagher, McDonough, Griffin, Rodrieguez, Uhruh
and a host of others figured prominently in the collection's spectacular
growth.
One of the principle families to support the museum's Pre-Colombian
collections was Jim and Marilynn Alsdorf. While neither were Notre
Dame alumni, they did meet at a Northwestern/Notre Dame football
game. For more than 30 years, they donated to practically every
area of the museum's collections. Annually, the called and invited
the team - Lauck, Spiro, Bradley and myself - to their residence
in Winnetka. During the first years we showed up in my 1971 Olds
Vista Cruiser, that is until it had more than 100,000 miles on
it, and Jim asked us to park it behind rather than in the front
drive of their home. After a glass of wine, we would sit down
for a fine meal and conversation about art. Surrounded by incredible
art - oils by Picasso, Braque, de Chirico, Debuffet, Modigliani,
sculptures by Rodin and Giacometti, Nottingham alabasters, Marie
Antoinette artifacts, Tiepolo drawings, and Teotihuacan fresco
panels, eating was the furthest thing from our minds. Always we
wondered what the Alsdorfs would donate that year. Which curator
would be the happiest? Following lunch, Jim would make the grand
presentation - an Embriacchi triptych in bone, Giacometti's portraits
of the Alsdorfs, a Mayan stele and so on. We were never disappointed.
The Alsdorfs had studied our collections, knew our needs and acknowledged
the passions of the curators.
Building a great collection for Notre Dame can be likened to
putting together a great jigsaw puzzle. While you may not have
all the pieces, your appetite is such that you continue the search
to complete the picture. C. Richard Hilker '49 became an important
piece to our puzzle when I first met him in the mid-90s. The director
of the Sansom Foundation wasn't the first to recognize and express
the weakness of the University's American collection. Under normal
circumstances, I could have felt a high degree of frustration.
However, Hilker followed up his honest criticism by approving
the gift of nearly 100 oils, watercolors, drawings and sketchbooks
by the Ashcan artist William Glackens - including a pivotal work
in the artist's colorful and important career, The Artist's
Wife and Son. This gift raised the quality of the collection
another level and, equally important, it encouraged others to
give important works to the Snite's collections. It also illustrated
one of my favorite expressions "quality begets quality."
Benefactors are most interested in giving to successful rather
than to floundering programs. In the museum profession, the level
of quality of gifts as well as exhibitions ultimately depends
on the museum's reputation. Throughout the 1990s and into the
21st century, the collections have flourished with the addition
of key examples by some of America's finest - Maurice Prendergast,
Joseph Stella, Rawlston Crawford, Milton Avery, Fairfield Porter,
Phillip Pearlstein, Neil Welliver, Sean Scully and Peter Voulkos,
among others.
Narrowing the gaps
When I first started working at Notre Dame, our philosophy was
to fill gaps in the collections while maintaining catholic
tastes. We also learned from the Alsdorfs, who had a similar philosophy,
that there was an even more important consideration when building
a collection. During one of our annual visits, Spiro asked Marilynn
what was their chief criteria when forming their catholic
collection? She responded firmly: "I should hope quality!"
Our philosophy of filling the gaps changed in later years when
I realized that even The Metropolitan Museum of Art with its collection
of 3 million plus could not achieve that goal. Rather, all museums
must subscribe to the philosophy of narrowing the gaps. The most
efficient way of accomplishing this is through judicious purchases.
The Snite has been fortunate to have created endowments early
in its history. This, with some generous cash gifts, has enabled
the curatorial staff to be selective, to propose and acquire objects
that most effectively narrow the gaps in those areas that seem
most relevant to the museum's mission.
We also learned that an endowment, no matter what size, can
be an effective tool in narrowing the gaps. The corpus of the
Travis Endowment for Decorative Arts began as a $25,000 commitment;
the Beardsley Endowment for Twentieth Century Art, $250,000; the
Humana Endowment for American Art, $1 million. Through judicious
investing and, I suspect, a little luck, each of these endowments,
as well as the several other endowments bearing benefactors' names
and the collections they support, have experienced dramatic growth
through the University's wise investment program. Decorative arts
became one of the Snite's most significant collections. With Father
Lauck's early acquisitions, both through gifts and purchases (his
acquisition budget to 1974 was a paltry, almost embarrassing,
$5,000 annually), the Beardsley and Humana Endowments for 20th
century art, with a concentration on America, now meets the requirements
and expectations of the Notre Dame student body.
From 1980 to 2005, the Snite achieved national prominence. For
years, "surprise" was the most common response when visitors first
experienced the Snite. Another favorite phrase was "the best kept
secret," probably because our budget didn't have a line item for
publicity.
Our success is due, in no small part, to a large group of extraordinary
benefactors, a talented and tenured staff, and a supportive
administration. The atmosphere at the University encourages
and supports those who dream. How can we improve the quality of
the Notre Dame experience and make life richer for our students?
The answer is found in the Snite Museum of Art, as the unique
recipe for success continues under Chuck Loving's directorship,
and, will, I hope, continue in perpetuity.
(April 2006)
