McKim Mead and White’s Castle Garden Aquarium looks spectacular, all heavy romanesque arches and wrought iron barriers to keep the penguins and what-not in. In my dreams of alternative New Yorks where lost architecture survives, I wonder what that building would be today.
Named for New York mayor DeWitt Clinton, Castle Clinton dates to 1811. It was an important fortification built on an island just off of Manhattan. It wasn’t the first defensive installation built to protect Lower Manhattan, and has nothing to do with the older fort that guarded Niew Amsterdam back in the day, which is long gone.
1695 Manhattan map, way before Castle Clinton
However, the fort was part of the network of five state of the art harbor defenses built in the youth of the United States. Although never used in war, merely by existing Castle Clinton and its fellow fortifications around the city helped deter British attacks on New York during the War of 1812. So that’s good. They sacked D.C. instead. Continue reading “Castle Clinton National Monument”
John Rainolds, president of Corpus Christi College, Oxford, suggested the idea of an English Bible to King James. The King James Bible, published in 1611, is maybe the most important book in English.
Yeshiva’s Oxford show has one of only four surviving notebooks from the committee that fretted and deliberated over the translation, responsible for its majestic, enduring poetry. Who says nothing good ever comes from committees?
William Fulman copy of John Bois’s notes on the King James Bible, 17th C.
The Center for Jewish History comprises five institutions under a single, Greek Revival, roof:
American Jewish Historical Society
American Sephardi Federation
Leo Baeck Institute
Yeshiva University Museum
YIVO Institute for Jewish Research
It’s like a food hall for Jewish culture and history. Kosher food hall, anyway.
Accordingly, at any given time the exhibits going on there will be diverse. And there are a lot of them, spread across two floors of assorted spaces of differing sizes, shapes, and capacities, all arranged around a central atrium. During my visit I saw:
A tremendous show of rare books on loan from Oxford’s Corpus Christi College.
The work of George Salter, midcentury book designer extraordinaire
Impressions of Jerusalem in pictures, video, sculpture, and words
A brief overview of the German origins of Zionism in the early twentieth century.
The story of a Portuguese diplomat who defied his superiors and eventually lost his job in his effort to give exit visas to as many people fleeing the Nazis as possible.
A group show of art by current students at Abby Belkin Stern College.
Dusty Old Books
The rare book show, billed as “Five Hundred Years of Treasures from Oxford,” blew me away. According to the wall text, many of the books on view have never left Corpus Christi College before. I can’t imagine the relationship that led to this exhibit happening. The title misleads, though: although it’s Corpus Christi’s 500th anniversary, several of the works on display are way older than that. Indeed, at least two date to the tenth century. I mean seriously. Here there be books over a thousand years old.
St. Basil the Great, “Commentary on the Psalms & Other Works,” 10th Century(!), Greek manuscript
Jewish-Adjacent Programming
I found it particularly interesting that although the show had a Hebrew section, it wasn’t really, well, super-Jewish. I mean, who would expect Corpus Christi to come to Yeshiva. However, in the college’s early days, its founder emphasized the “new learning” of reading holy books in their original languages –so Hebrew and Greek alongside the more usual Latin.
But it’s not purely Biblical, either. The show also features a copy of the Iliad, and numerous significant scientific works. In terms of Hebrew, it featured some beautiful examples of dual Hebrew/Latin manuscripts. It also had a book of Jewish daily prayers, written in Arabic but using the Hebrew alphabet, that somehow made its way to England before the 1200s.
On the science front, they had a copy of Vesalius’s Anatomy from 1555. It’s amazingly important, the first medical book based on contemporary dissections, not just received wisdom from the Classical world. And even better were the tons of annotations from some harried medical student. I love margin notes. Even if I can’t read them, I can empathize with this long-gone person striving to learn and absorb all this new, revolutionary knowledge. Try doing that on an eReader.
Andreas Vesalius, “De Humani Corporis Fabrica,” printed in Basel, 1555.
While a small show, it went incredibly deep. If it was at the Morgan, I reckon there would be a line to see it. It was hard to tear myself away to check out the rest of the Center for Jewish History exhibits. But tear I did, eventually.
More Books!
Atlas Shrugged, Salter Designed
The George Salter show was fascinating, too. Once you see some examples of his work, you realize that he did tons of midcentury classics. And while you can’t judge a book by its cover, his distinctive way with typography and design must’ve helped sell at least some copies of the books he worked on.
The show speaks to Salter’s philosophy of design, from pure typographical covers to ones, like Atlas Shrugged, that capture some resonant idea of the book in simplified, graphical form.
Other Things at the Center for Jewish History
The Jerusalem show provided glimpses and views of the city by a whole variety of artists and writers. It included a tremendous, handmade model of old Jerusalem.
Moses Kernoosh, “Model of Jerusalem,” ca 1880. Wood, cardboard, tin, wire, paint, rice paper
As with the Oxford show, I found it interesting (and welcome) that the perspectives on the city weren’t purely Jewish ones. Mark Twain gets a quote, as does grumpy Herman Melville, who had much to say on the quantity and quality of the stones of Judea. But my favorite quote came from a poem by Yehuda Amichai, “Jerusalem is a Port City,” where he builds an amazing metaphor. I’ll just quote the first and last lines here:
Jerusalem is a port city on the shore of the ages of ages./Jerusalem is the Venice of God.
The student art show was a student art show. A couple of clever things, a couple not-so-clever. And “Portugal the Last Hope: Sousa-Mendes’ Visas for Freedom” and “Zionismus: The German Roots of Zionism” shows both had interesting things to teach, though both went heavy on wall texts and quotes, lighter on art and artifacts.
The Bottom Line
With its diverse institutions all pursuing their different missions, the exhibits the Center for Jewish History cumulatively deliver a comprehensive and diverse look at Jewish concerns and interests. The Jewish Museum, by contrast, has a more narrowly artistic focus. Which absolutely isn’t a bad thing, and puts it on equal footing with many of the other specific-culture-focused institutions in the city. But I got more out of visiting the Center for Jewish History.
If the Yeshiva Museum does even one show every couple of years as deep as the Oxford Library show, I really need to make it part of my regular museum rotation.
Whatever your interests, it’s likely that something on view at the Center for Jewish History will align. Woe unto you if your interests are diverse, you’ll likely spend more time there than you intended. I mean, woe in a good way, of course. Seeing and learning more than you expected must count as among the best of all possible woes.
Studio Job, “Chartres,” 2009-2012, Bronze, 24K gold leaf
This is the best, or at least weirdest, cabinet I have ever seen. Probably the most Gothic. And the least practical. An entire cathedral, tipped on its side! No putting that against the wall, that’s for sure.
UPDATE APRIL 2021: The Met has pulled the plug on its Breuer experiment, reducing its New York City empire to the classic mothership and The Cloisters. I liked what it was doing in the Breuer building, but the silver lining is the Frick is now playing in that space.
Art Fortress
The first thing you should know about my take on the Met Breuer, housed in the former home of the Whitney Museum of American Art, is I really really really dislike the building. The iconic, Brutalist, Marcel Breuer art fortress says to me very loudly and in no uncertain terms, “Don’t come in here. You are not welcome.” It looms over the sidewalk. It has one big wonky window like Polyphemus’s eye. That’s it. It’s a Cyclopean building. A monster. Hide under a sheepskin on your way out or it’ll devour you.
You have to cross a narrow bridge over a crevasse to get in, upping the feeling of peril. Then once you’re in the lobby, the harsh concrete and spotlight-y lights feel like some kind of an art world police state, with you as the object of interrogation. “Admit it! Talk! You like MONET. Confess and maybe we’ll go easy on ya.”
One of the reasons I love the Whitney so much today is simply that it’s no longer in this building.
So, I have a bias.
The second thing you should know is, according to the Met, the architect’s name is pronounced BROY-er, not brewer. Just in case you wondered.
With the Whitney’s move to the Meatpacking District, naturally questions arose as to what to do with the Madison Avenue fortress. Fortunately (maybe?) the Met stepped in and leased it, making it the Met’s second satellite location after The Cloisters. Otherwise they probably would’ve turned it into an H&M or a fancy food hall or something.
Thus far, the Met has used the Breuer building to…well, to let its institutional hair down a bit, it seems. None of the permanent collection has moved. Rather, it leverages the space for special exhibitions. They tend to the modern or contemporary, which is good given the space. And yet, the Met’s also done some fairly fascinating surveys, leveraging the strength of its encyclopedic collection but doing things they might not want to do, or even be able to do, in any of the spaces in the mother ship on Fifth Avenue.
When I visited, one show consisted of four video installations, which were okay. Certainly video works well in the cavelike Breuer space.
Ettore Sottsass, Design Maverick
The other show, on the designer Ettore Sottsass, exemplifies what I mean about letting the Met go a little bonkers installation-wise.
Sottsass first found fame designing an iconic Olivetti portable manual typewriter, in super-sexy lipstick red, with a case that could double as a waste-paper basket. It’s adorable and brilliant, and the Met shows it off alongside other modern designs meant to be cheap and cheerful, like a One Laptop Per Child laptop.
But on top of that, they introduce it with a…colorful quote from Sottsass. I have been visiting the Met for over 20 years, and I really don’t think I’ve ever seen that word in a wall text there before, much less in big type as a key quote.
Sottsass, a man of strong opinions
Sottsass had a long career designing things of all types, including the outdoor furniture that uses classical capitals and columns in the photo above. This also provides a typical view of Met Breuer gallery space, with its slate floors and the waffle iron ceiling.
Ettore Sottsass also went on to found the short-lived, exuberant, 1980s “Memphis” design movement, exemplified by his wacky, colorful room divider here.
Creativity Unleashed
Cleverly, the Met juxtaposed some chunky Memphis jewelry with 4,000 year old Egyptian pieces (that looked really good by comparison). They did things like that throughout. Sottsass designed some glass art pieces he called “Kachinas,” and the Met displayed them next to Hopi dolls from its collection. They displayed some of Sotsass’s nifty, colorful, tall, ceramic towers with a Frank Lloyd Wright architectural model, some Shiva Lingam, and a Chinese jade Neolithic ritual object. Throughout the show, these sorts of unexpected pairings helped illuminate Sottsass’s work, providing a look at objects that might have inspired him, or at least creating a novel context for his pieces. I really enjoyed it.
Creative combinations of works in a dialogue across thousands of years and diverse cultures is something places like the Brooklyn Museum have been trying for some time, not always successfully. The Met seems to be using the Breuer to experiment with that approach to curating a show. And I think they’re doing it really well so far.
My Bottom Line on the Met Breuer
So what’s my bottom line on the Met Breuer? I’m not going to say everyone should drop everything and go. The building might be interesting, but I still don’t think it’s a welcoming or pleasant place to see art. But I can’t deny the creativity that’s going into the Met’s programming at the Met Breuer. The staff has done some tremendous shows there so far, full of…spirit. If having the Breuer lets them think about their collection in novel ways, and tell new stories about art, I value that highly. Hopefully some of the Met Breuer spirit will eventually find outlets in the Fifth Avenue HQ, too.
For Reference:
Address
945 Madison Avenue, (at East 75th Street) Manhattan
Poncar’s best photos capture amazing contrasts, both of light and shadow and of the greens in the valleys and the stark surrounding cliffs.
Jaroslav Poncar, “Teri Samdrub Chodhing Gompa,” 2015
Tibet House is the Tibetan Cultural Center, founded in 1987 at the behest of His Holiness the Dalai Lama. Thus it celebrates its 30th birthday this year.
Hello, Dalai
Tibet House hosts an array of classes and events, meditation training, retreats in the Catskills, that sort of thing. It’s kind of a starry place: in addition to His Holiness, Professor Robert Thurman, who teaches at Columbia, is the president of their board, and Philip Glass is vice president. It name-drops a whole bunch of other notables in its acknowledgements of “in-kind” donations: David Bowie, Patti Smith, Christo, David Byrne, Emmylou Harris… Continue reading “Tibet House Gallery”
From a 2007 exhibit on Jewish cemeteries, I learned that they are sometimes called Beit Hayyim in Hebrew, House of Life. More than just a euphemism, it affirms ties between the living and the dead, and an eternal existence to come.
Hans D. Beyer, “Interior of the Schmidl Family Vault,” Budapest, Hungary, 2006
I loved this photograph of the Schmidl family vault in Budapest. An art nouveau extravaganza from 1904, covered in mosaics, I’d like to see it in person someday.
Temple Emanu-El is a beautiful, imposing synagogue, one of several great houses of worship on the green stretch of Fifth Avenue opposite Central Park. The temple itself is shut tight like a fortress between services, However, if you go around to a side entrance on East 65th Street and ask the guard, you can visit the Herbert & Eileen Bernard Museum, which hosts temporary exhibits on various aspects of Jewish life, faith, and culture.
The museum occupies three smallish rooms on the second floor. A life-sized, somewhat cartoony Golda Meir sculpture currently greets you at the door. She seems nice, though somewhat off-putting, like the Jewish museological equivalent of the fiberglass Ronald McDonalds that help to dissuade me from ever eating chicken mcnuggets. Continue reading “Bernard Museum of Judaica at Temple Emanu-El”
150 minutes, including 26 queued to get in. I could easily have spent more (inside, that is).
Best thing I saw or learned
For all those who think technology progresses in only one direction, Intrepid offers a few counterfactuals, but none better than Concorde. From 1976 until 2003, people (very few, and very rich to be sure) jetted across the Atlantic in under 3.5 hours. I hope we see supersonic travel again in my lifetime. But I doubt it.
Driving up the west side of Manhattan helps New Yorkers exercise our jadedness. Here’s my routine with out-of-towners.
Oh, the Renzo Piano Whitney building. I was just there the other day.
Hmph, High Line. Too crowded with tourists.
Frank Gehry’s IAC Building is really showing its age, isn’t it?
I can sometimes be bothered to look up from my smartphone at midtown’s forest of skyscrapers.
Hudson Yards, a whole new city within the city, is an inconvenient and messy construction zone.
And that over there? Oh, that’s just our aircraft carrier.
I can act the part. But, oh, the Intrepid. I’m still a kid at heart. I love boats and planes and exploding things. And the Intrepid has all of that, including a Concorde, a nuclear submarine, and even a (sort of) space shuttle. I love that we’ve got an aircraft carrier, just parked next to Manhattan like its crew dropped by to see a show or go shopping on Canal Street.
As I’ve observed, New York has a glut of art museums and far too few science museums. Intrepid is one of the latter, with a good dose of history to boot. Partly due to supply and demand, then, there can be long lines. And it gets away with charging a hefty entrance fee. Still, it’s worth it. Continue reading “Intrepid Sea, Air, and Space Museum”
Sam Anderson’s delightfully spooky cluster of sculptures, all titled “E,” part of her basement installation called “The Park.”
Hello, Ladies
SculptureCenter, a museum dedicated to, yes, sculpture, resides in an historic old trolley garage in the eye of the gentrification storm that is Long Island City these days. The stroll there from the Queensboro Plaza subway station boggles the mind — new residential high rises seem to be sprouting on every single lot for blocks around.
Evolution
SculptureCenter has a venerable history. An artist named Dorothea Denslow founded a group called The Clay Club back in the 1920s. Photos suggest a jolly bunch of flappers and rogues united by their love of sculpture. Resident in a couple of different spots in Manhattan during most of the 20th century, the organization rebranded as the Sculpture Center, I guess to sound more grown-up. With the move to Long Island City in 2001, it gained space even as it lost its space (and its “the”) to become “SculptureCenter.” Continue reading “SculptureCenter”
**UPDATE AS OF 16 MARCH 2018.** I’m saddened to learn that the Fisher Landau Center for Art has closed. It was off the beaten path and kept eccentric hours but I really liked that place when I reviewed it last July, and I’m sorry I only got to go once. I’m leaving the review below, but please don’t try to visit it.
Edification value
Entertainment value
Should you go?
Time spent
52 minutes
Best thing I saw or learned
Many of the pieces on display made me smile, one made me laugh out loud.
Ricci Albenda, “Diptych,” 2005. Acrylic on wood panel.
I don’t know why I chuckled at a painting of the word “diptych.” It’s a fairly mild art joke. I was just enjoying the museum, rounded the corner, and appreciated the cognitive dissonance.
The Parachute Harness Factory Museum
Here’s another novel adaptive reuse of a non-museum building into a museum. The Fisher Landau Center for Art resides in a former parachute harness factory in a random and as-yet ungentrified part of Long Island City. Emily Fisher Landau originally bought the building just to warehouse her huge collection of modern and contemporary art, but realized some years back that the place had character, and could in fact show some of that art off to the public. So she had it painted white, created airy, beautifully lit, columned interiors, and opened it for free to anyone intrepid enough to find their way there. Continue reading “Fisher Landau Center for Art”
The Fordham Museum’s ancient coin collection came from a literal buried treasure. While serving in Italy during World War II, Thomas Marrone stumbled on a trove of ancient Roman coins in a shell-hole. After the war, rather than keeping them or selling them off he gave them to Fordham.
The wall text observes that since the 1954 Hague Convention, walking off the battlefield with lost coin collections is no longer Kosher. So it’s lucky Fordham acquired its when it did.
Tucked away in the main library at Fordham University’s Bronx campus is an unexpected little museum of Greek, Etruscan, and Roman art, which opened in 2007. William and Jane Walsh donated their collection of about 270 objects to the school, the thought being that having a small museum of classical antiquity close at hand might inspire students pursuing a liberal arts education.
As a Columbia alum, I’m slightly jealous. I can imagine the resonance of reading Sophocles, Thucydides, or Cicero in the presence of objects from the cultures that shaped those works. Then again, our library is a neoclassical masterpiece by McKim, Mead, and White, whereas Fordham kids get a thoroughly style-less late 1990s building. Just sayin’.
Library architecture notwithstanding, Fordham did a fine job crafting its museum space. From the design and library layout, I suspect that it took over one of the reading rooms to do so. If so, then undergrads’ loss during finals prep is art’s gain. The Fordham Museum has ample windows opening onto the campus, which I like a lot. It makes you constantly aware of the academic environment, providing a distinctive context for the art.
The Collection
The Fordham Museum’s collection is diverse and well curated. It includes a lovely Venus (Roman copy of Greek original, from the third century AD), bits and pieces of other statuary, and a wide array of pottery. The ceramics span a wide variety of styles, not just the typical red-black-and-white painted Greek wine jars. And it includes some impressively large and distinctive pieces.
Child-Sized Sarcophagus
It also has a poignant child’s casket, whose former occupant was the two-year old son of an early Roman policeman.
And a single small but nice vitrine full of Roman glass.
strigilated: decorated with curves in the shape of a strigil, and
Gnathian: of or originating from…Gnathia?
The museum sets aside an alcove for special interpretations. This offers a way for the curators to take parts of the collection and temporarily do a deeper dive, or look at them differently. When I visited it examined Etruscan terra cotta votive heads and a couple of feet. Interesting and well described. People purchased these votive sculptures to invoke the gods’ aid in the case of injury or illness. Perhaps an idea whose time has come again given the state of U.S. healthcare regulation.
Votive Heads (and Feet)
Two Criticisms
I admire the Walshes for picking an unconventional place to gift their collection, and the museum for organizing the collection a logical and educational way. At the same time, it misses an opportunity to discuss the Walshes as collectors and connoisseurs. It left me curious why they acquired what they did — what caught their eye, what they liked and didn’t.
Also, considering the times, the Fordham Museum should discuss provenance. The coin collection origin story touches on the subject, but the museum says nothing else. I hope the Walshes got all their stuff on the up-and-up. But if so, the wall texts should say something about that.
Venus was her name…but where did she come from?
Who Should Visit?
The Fordham Museum offers a quiet, competent display of an interesting collection in a beautiful academic setting. It’s great if you like communing with art solo: a kid studying was the only other person when I went. And a guard popped in briefly to make sure I wasn’t pilfering votive objects.
Who should visit? Students of antiquity, or even just fans, will find it worth their time. If you live closer to Fordham than to the Met or the Onassis Center, you should definitely consider visiting for a Greco-Etrusco-Roman art fix. And Fordham students have no excuses about going.
More general audiences may wisely hesitate about making the journey just to see the Fordham Museum. But you could combine it with something else.
The Fordham campus happens to be conveniently close to the Edgar Allan Poe Cottage — he walked over to visit the Jesuits when St. John’s College was new. Following in Poe’s footsteps after visiting his humble abode would offer a nice double bill.
It would also pair well with the nearby New-York Botanical Garden.
Finally, Fordham is close to the Bronx’s Belmont neighborhood, also known as Arthur Avenue. Combining Classical art at the Fordham Museum with shopping and a meal there creates a mini Italian vacation.
For Reference:
Address
Walsh Library, Fordham Rose Hill Campus, 441 East Fordham Road, The Bronx
Baby Bootlegger was a 1924, 29-foot 10-inch speedboat with a 240 horsepower engine. She was designed by George F. Crouch, built by Henry B. Nevins of City Island, and owned by Caleb Bragg. She won the Gold Cup in 1924 and 1925 and I’m sure no rum was ever run in her.
Misnomer Island
“New York” conjures very specific images. Possibly positive, possibly negative, but distinctive, and related to density, height, congestion, diversity, and creativity. Extremes of wealth and poverty. And yet New York also contains neighborhoods that feel nothing like “New York.”
The City Island Nautical Museum aims to tell the story of arguably the least “New York” place in all of New York City. Despite its misleading name, City Island does not feel “city” in any way. Rather, it’s a quiet village, whose heritage and livelihood has long focused on the waters of Long Island Sound.
City Island was part of the massive tract of land ceded by the Lenape to Thomas Pell (whose story the Bartow-Pell Mansion recounts) in 1654. It developed into a fairly self-sufficient seagoing community. Oystering supported City Islanders for many years, until the oysters ran out. And boatbuilding was a massive industry. Eight America’s Cup winning yachts were built at City Island from 1870-1980. And they built mine sweepers there during World War II.
Sailmakers’ Tools
Today, sailors still have reason to go — it’s home to some five yacht clubs. But for most New Yorkers, City Island barely registers in their consciousness, except as a curious, far-flung corner of the city.
A Schoolhouse Full of Stuff
The City Island Nautical Museum occupies the island’s old schoolhouse. Its four rooms each focus on a specific theme:
the School Room, focused on the island’s schools and kids who went there;
the Nautical Room, on boats and boatbuilding;
the Community Room, on life on City Island from pre-colonial days to now; and
the Library.
In addition to various books, copies of Yachting magazine going back to the 1930s, and neat ship models, the library currently houses a temporary show of local artwork memorializing the City Island Bridge, recently torn down.
A Charming But Chaotic Collection
Cabinet of Curiosities
I’d call this museum “charming,” if I’m feeling charitable, and “chaotic” if I’m feeling less so. It’s a bit of both. This is a museum by accretion, like the Maritime Industry Museum.
But the Maritime Industry Museum is a paragon of military-grade organization. It’s dense but not dusty, its artifacts are well cared for, and you know every object there has been carefully cataloged.
By contrast, the City Island Museum is a hodge-podge. Things on display aren’t always in good repair. It feels like the museum may not even know all that it has. And that’s sort of a shame.
Then again, I have to say much of the collection feels random and not very important. For example, the museum has an array of outboard motors that look like they date to the 1940s-1960s. Whose outboard motors were they? Are they historically important for some reason? Who made them and why? There’s a case of arrowheads. A bunch of old bottles. Old cameras. Nothing feels…documented. The artifacts kind of tell a City Island story, in that they all presumably were used there at some point. But they don’t tell it in coherently. And they crowd out things that would give a better understanding of the island’s people and times.
Stories I wish the City Island Museum told:
City Island’s days as a weekend getaway — it used to have public beaches and an easier connection to the city. Could it have become a northern Coney Island?
The short-lived, dangerous City Island Monorail (amazing story; see the Bowery Boys link in the box at the end of this review).
The changing population and demographics of the island. Who lives there now?
Early ambitions for City Island — the name comes from a bout of marketing optimism that it’d someday rival New York as a maritime port.
The Community Room
Should You Visit?
Like the Old Stone House, this museum isn’t really for tourists. Or, it’s only partly for tourists. It’s a center for the community, a place where people can come and research family ties to the island, and a place where clam diggers (i.e., native City Islanders; the rest of us are “mussel suckers”) can contribute bits of their own legacies to be part of the greater story.
You should go to City Island, unquestionably. It’s unique in New York. And if you go, to sail, to just look around, or to have a piña colada at Johnny’s Reef Restaurant (which I personally recommend) then, sure, stop in at the City Island Nautical Museum. It’s a thing to do. But I would not recommend planning a trip to the island just to visit this small, charming but too-chaotic museum.