July 11, 1989, p.

Early this year, Democratic Congresswoman Mary Rose Oakar introduced legislation to create a Department of Arts and Humanities within the executive branch. Her plan would accord cabinet status to the arts, comparable to the ministries of culture in Australia, Great Britain, Japan, and virtually every other outpost of civilization. (Just imagine the delicious possibility of cabinet meetings at which the Secretary of Arts and Humanities sits flanked by the secretaries of State and Defense!) On April 26, Oakar presented her proposal, HR 219, before the Subcommittee on the Interior. It has not, however, been scheduled for a hearing before the Government Operations Committee, the next step in enacting such legislation.

Why haven't we heard of HR 219? Ask the mainstream media, for whom only money, male genitalia, and flag abuse constitute news about art. I happen to know about it because the Ohio congresswoman appeared on the best of the recent spate of censorship panels. Held on October 2 at the Guggenheim, it was organized by ArtTable, Inc., a national organization for women professionals in the visual arts. Alone among the programs I've attended, this one managed to link the Helms amendment's assault on contemporary art to the federal government's assault on the visual arts through a variety of thickheaded tax policies that threaten to debilitate museums.

Panelists John Walsh (director of the J. Paul Getty Museum), Robert Mandle (deputy director of the National Gallery) and Gregory Jenner (of the Treasury Department) discussed both unrelated business income taxation (commonly known as UBIT) and deductions for charitable donations--artworks--to museums. UBIT issues are complex. To cite just one, the private sector charges that museums limit competition by inappropriately deriving taxfree income from selling reproductions of artworks from their collections (only museums have the right to reproduce works from their collections).

If changes currently contemplated by the Ways and Means Oversight Subcommittee are enacted, we're talking about major losses. MoMA's ballpark estimate of annual losses in the $300,000 to $400,000 range ironically equals the amount of support the museum typically receives from the federal government. The Metropolitan Museum estimates its potential losses at more than $1 million! These figures translate into less money for exhibitions of contemporary and historical art, and fewer education programs, something museums routinely provide for public schools.

Already evident form the tax reform of 1986 is the precipitous decline in the donation of artworks to museums. In fiscal 1986, 43,670 objects valued at $133 million were received by museums. In 1988, donations dropped to 17,035 objects valued at $67 million. This 63 percent decline in just two years means that great art will remain in private collections, that monuments of various cultural heritages will be squirreled away.

Perhaps the most noteworthy aspect of the ArtTable program was its inclusion of politicians. Not only Oakar, but Senator Alfonso D'Amato sat on the panel. D'Amato disingenuously touted his contradictory anticensorship and antiobscenity stands, then chastised the art community "for making Mapplethorpe and Serrano the cutting edge." High IQ Al acted as if there were someone actually making decisions about the acceptable limits of art and never managed to make the simple connection between free speech and unfettered art. Oakar noted that "we don't hear from people who think that the government should be more involved in [supporting] the arts" and urged us to do "what Jesse Helms does so well," i.e., keep those cards and letters coming to Capitol Hill. Today, every politician acts entirely incapable of taking a stand on a controversial issue without polling his or her--or Jess Helms's--constituents.

Regarding her legislation, however, Oakar's reasoning couldn't be more reassuring. The former theater professor observed that "it's a shame when an adult, or specially a child, does not have the opportunity to go to a play, or an art museum." She acknowledged last week that "perhaps my measure won't pass this year, but it's time to put [this matter] on the national agenda." Oakar's proposal puts the beleaguered arts on the offensive for the fist time, although it's only the start of a long-term strategy. At the moment, congressional art supporters should be emphasizing free speech and the economic megabenefits of the art industries. Money invariably talks on Capitol Hill. Why the closed mouths?

Just as the great art of the past is being played beyond the reach of museums--being privatized, if you will--so too, are museum directors going private. The once-impregnable wall separating the nonprofit and for-profit sectors has been breached, if not demolished. Richard Koshalek, director of Los Angeles's Museum of Contemporary Art, recently ended what he termed "serious discussions" about joining the staff of the Pace Gallery and told me that it was "family considerations that led to my decision to stay here." Eric McCready, the former director of the Archer M. Huntington Museum in Austin, is the new director of the Charles Cowles Gallery in Soho. Linda Cathcart, former director of Houston's Contemporary Arts Museum, opened her own gallery in Santa Monica last month.

Although there are precedents for this--most notably John Neff, who left Chicago's Museum of Contemporary Art six years ago to oversee the Bank of Chicago's art program--the move away from nonprofits is a trend in the making. Why the departure from the institutional world? Money is only one reason. (Los Angeles art talkers assert that Pace was prepared to pay Koshalek as much as $400,000, although Pace owner Arne Glimcher denied that discussions had gone far enough to even consider salary.)

More important is the postwar evolution of the museum director's job from art historian/administrator to art dabbler/multinational CEO/fundraiser/socialite, à la Guggenheim's Thomas Krens. (The Metropolitan Museum's Thomas Hoving was the link between these phases.) As McCready puts it, "Museums now demand that their directors be all things to all people; there are too many bosses." Cathcart echoes his sentiments. "At many institutions the role of director is strictly fundraising and PR." Neff left his director's job in order "to get back in the trenches to work with artists and objects, rather than in committees and the new breed of board members." Everyone I spoke to noted that dozens of museum directors are quietly shopping around for private sector employment. The wildest rumor thus far: Sotheby's has tendered National Gallery director J. Carter Brown a $1 million offer. (Sotheby's is not commenting.)

Morality Tale, February 5, 1991, p. 86

History may regard the passage of the Visual Artists Rights Act of 1990 as the most important artist-related event of the past year--even if it's gone largely unnoticed. Signed into law by President Bush on December 1 and set to take effect on June 1, it amends copyright legislation and provides artists with new rights never before granted them by the federal government. This so-called "moral rights law" brings the U.S. close to the international copyright standards of the Berne Convention.

What are moral rights? They are legal rights that proceed from a recognition of the value of an artist's conception and the object embodying that artistic originality. Championed by Senator Edward Kennedy, the bill required six years of lobbying for enactment. Why the uphill battle? Simply put, the French concept of moral rights is at odds with the property rights enshrined in Anglo-Saxan law; the Berne Convention grants them to artists "independent of economic [property] rights."

The best way to describe the new federal law is to invoke the state laws on which it is based. During the '80s, 11 states passed laws that fall into two camps: The "New York" and the "California." The "integrity rights"-oriented California law protects the art object from physical assault in preserving works of "recognized quality." The New York law protects the artist's reputation, rather than the artwork, by prohibiting the presentation of mutilated work. Geography aside, the California law would have prohibited estate executor Clement Greenberg from having the paint removed from David Smith's polychrome sculptures during the '60s: the New York law would have prohibited the exhibition of the altered works.

The new federal law combines both approaches. Although art attorney Barbara Hoffman characterizes the bill's passage as "extremely important," she also notes that difficulties are likely to arise from the "general lack of clarity in the drafting," as well as for other reasons, such as the federal law's failure to preempt statutes that extend rights beyond an artist's life. The moral rights of heirs of California artists extend 50 years beyond the death of the artist, while those of artists covered only by the new federal law end at death.

Perhaps the most problematic aspect of the law is its narrow definition of visual art. It excludes photos not produced for exhibition purposes, films, and videos--all Berne Convention-covered art forms. Nonetheless, for the visual artists included, this is landmark legislation. If, for instance, the case of Richard Serra's Tilted Arc were to be litigated after June 1, it would likely trigger the protection of the law upon demonstration of the work's "recognized quality" or of injury to Serra's reputation.

One final stipulation of the act is a mandated study on resale royalties to be completed in 1992. Resale royalties mean that when an artwork of a minimum value ($1000 by California law) is resold, the artist is cut in on a percentage of the gross proceeds. In our mercantile culture, resale royalties may be an artist's ultimate "moral" right.

Taking Stock, January 1, 1992, p. 87

It's the time of year for taking stock and it's the kind of year when that means taking stock of the Economy. In what's facetiously known as the for-profit sector, the moribund international art market coincides with a ballooning number of art fairs that may enable dealers to unload inventory on other dealers. In the month between the opening of Art Expo Miami on January 9, and Découvertes (Discoveries) in Paris on February 15, you can also catch Artfair in Seattle. If you're an artist (or art lover), don't consider attending any of them--unless you want to dramatically enlarge your understanding of the concept of commodification.

The art biz was the pretext for three art mavens--dealer Andre Emmerich, Arts & Antiques editor-in-chief Jeffrey Schaire, and ex-everything Thomas Hoving--to chew the fat with Charlie Rose on his December 16 WNET gabfest. Schaire on current trends: "In contemporary painting there is a return to traditional values [!] and away from intellectual works." Hoving on the hottest new thing: "The boundary between the so-called crafts and fine arts is disintegrating." The most cogent comment of the program was Emmerich's on the market implosion: "The glass is either half full or half empty; I think it's half full. In a time of economic crisis, that so much is sold to so many is remarkable."

Unfortunately, many of those affected by the empty half are artists. This "downturn"--that is, recession if you're a Republican, depression if you're a Democrat--also means that many galleries that are limping along are increasingly stiffing the artists in their stables. (Do you too find "stable" a noxious metaphor?) Let's not even talk about galleries that have gone under. I'll be writing more about this subject soon, so if you are one of the unpaid don't be a stranger.

The picture is no rosier in the nonprofit art world. The city's budget crunch has effectively shuttered exhibitions at the Clocktower, P.S. 1's Tribeca outpost. Negotiations are currently underway to see if the city-owned building at Broadway and Leonard can be opened on weekends...An especially ugly prospect is the likelihood of covert warfare over the city's shrinking arts-funding pie between the Cultural Institutions Group--31 organizations including the Metropolitan and Brooklyn museums for whom the city is landlord--and the "community-based groups" (including MoMA and the Metropolitan Opera) that also receive city funds. The CIGs recently allocated more than $100,000 for a lobbyist and publicist to plead their case with the city council and mayor. The money came from each member institution and presumably means less programming. Brooklyn Academy of Music's Harvey Lichtenstein, who chairs the CIGs, did not return repeated calls for comment. (Do you think he had to let go of his publicist?)

At a recent dinner party, an artist friend turned to me and asked: "Are you interested in a Sub-Zero refrigerator? They're the Rolls-Royce of the fridge world." I demurred, and he offered an Amana stove (black) and a washer-dryer combo (brushed steel). After assuring me that he hadn't entered the home appliance biz he explained that he's exchanged a sculpture for the homemaker's helpers. What else has he recently acquired in trade? A Sony Trinitron, the security deposit owed a tenant, 10 sessions from a psychic, a legal consultation and three gold crowns. It seems that our economy is getting more like the soon-to-be-former Soviet Union's--and not the other way around.

Of course artists have always bartered their work--anybody who ever set foot in Max's Kansas City, McGoo's or many Soho professional offices knows this. But every artist I talked to believes that the barter economy is on the rise. The hostess at the same party--she makes public and gallery art--announced her intention of setting up an artists' association to facilitate the labor-intensive installation of public artworks. (A postmodern barn raising, suggested one wag.) I felt left out until I realized that my payment for a recent exhibition catalogue was a trip to Japan. Can Moscow be much further?

Is the economy likely to improve this year? If this were New Hampshire, I'd be urging you to write in Ralph Nader's name on the upcoming presidential primary ballot. Perhaps his unwilling candidacy will survive the winter. In the meantime there are the incisive ruminations of novelist E. L. Doctorow, who testified at a recent hearing (at the Brooklyn Museum) of the House Subcommittee on Government Activities and Transportation. The subject was oversight of the National Endowment for the Arts. "My work provides employment to others," Doctorow noted in a section of his remarks devoted to economic facts of life apparently unknown to Jesse Helms. "Painters provide employment to printmakers, publishers, gallery owners and workers, art critics, TV documentarians, museum curators and museum guards. The work of artists in every medium provides jobs and stimulates the economy. The NEA has generally funded younger writers at the beginnings of their careers--so that they, too, presumably will be in a position one day to generate jobs for others. All artists are, economically speaking, small businesses. Perhaps we should be testifying before the Small Business Administration."

Doctorow said a great many other wise things during the course of his remarks, but perhaps a bit of optimism is called for at this fin de siècle moment. Change is inevitable, as I was reminded by postporn modernist Annie Sprinkle's exultant observation at Linda Montano's farewell tribute-performance at the New Museum of Contemporary Art on December 6: "In the '90s women are ejaculating," Sprinkle beamed. "And men are not." Happy New Year.

Art for Rent, March 2, 1993, p. 78

After a recent column about the downsides of the Matisse blockbuster, an anonymous Guggenheim Museum staffer wrote "that the displaced permanent collection isn't just sitting around gathering dust in storage. No, the museum [MOMA] is surely making money by sending selected items to the new kunsthalle in Bonn...Just as the Guggenheim for the duration of their closing did."

How much money can museums make from cashing in on their permanent collections? The German press reported that Bonn paid MOMA $2.3 million, while nobody's talking about MOMA's take from another portion of the collection currently on view at Tokyo's Ueno Royal Museum. The Boston Museum of Fine Arts, which will open a branch in Nagoya, Japan(!), received an approximately $2 million fee for mounting the current "Monet and His Contemporaries" show. The Barnes Collection's international tour of 90 French Impressionist works is expected to raise $10 million to $15 million - $4.5 million of it from the exhibition's Tokyo appearance. Finally, the Louvre is sending works to two Japanese museums this year in exchange for a "donation" of $2.2 million to its conservation program.

So what's my beef? In the electronic age, it's easy to assume that everything is mobile. But there are physical dangers connected with transporting century-old paintings. A former colleague of mine at the state of California's conservation lab in Davis observed that "the amount of travel many major museums subject their modern paintings to borders on the unethical." And as with nuclear plants, accidents by art shippers and museum personnel are inevitable - and far more frequent.

But the philosophical problems run much deeper. To profitably travel shows abroad ensures Hollywood-style "product" that plumbs the lowest common intellectual denominator ("Masterpieces of Impressionism"). To see artworks as "assets" or "collateral" is to embrace a new corporate agenda that until recently was typified primarily by Guggenheim director Thomas Krens. Now it is the expedient norm. Today's museum directors and CEO-dominated museum boards seem unable even to imagine other, more ecological models for museums that aren't based on corporate expansionism and the attendant blockbuster. These dinosaurs naively imagine that museums, unlike other U.S. institutions, are indestructible. After they're gone, we'll still have the Frick. But we will have lost museums as we now know them.

News and Notes, July 7, 1992 p.