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Vicky A. Clark Throughout the often daunting Lask of trying to comprehend the hundred-year history of the Carnegie International as a well-integrated narrative, I kept recalling Christian Boltanski's work, La riserve du Carnegie International 1896-1991 (The archive of the Canugrt lntrrna1ional•896-•991 ), from the 1991 International exhibition. For several rea.o;ons, his installation, located in a dark basement space and shaped like a corridor,' became a metaphor for this challengi11g historical enterprise.

Boltanski preceded the authors of this volume in mining Lhe exhibition's history. H is investigations produced a work in the form of thoLisands of cardboard boxes arranged along functional shelving. Each box was labeled with the name of an artist who had exhibited in the International, along with the year or years in which he (or, far less ofi:en, she) had done so; each box was empty, as if waiting to be filled with documents and artifacts related m the artist. Curious viewers, looking for recognizable names, were overwhelmed by the sheer number of boxes. Bolranski himself, in a challenge to those involved in the art world, s:tid that a true curator should recognize at least four hundred names- a mere ren percent of those displayed and also listed in the artist's book that accompanied the installation. Boltanski's work humbled every audience.

Boltanski's installation w::ts :1 postmodern critique of the way in whi.ch we construct history, an illustration of the fact that accumulating knowledge- let alone und.erstandi11g Lt-is nor simple, straightforward, or objective. By deliberately gathering only names and dates, Boltanski called attention to rhe deeper levels of understanding chat were missing. He implicitly questioned our ability to find truth in mere details.

Despite skepticism like Bolranski's, and the unending revelation and revision of the past prompted by histor[cal material, we Still tend to think of history as an accurate record of what happened in earlier times. Vve forget chat history is a work permanently in progress, a shifting creation that is shaped by those who write it. Rcfi·acted by the pt·ism of each historian's own time and experience, history becomes but is open to interpretation and/ or manipulation. a personal, sometimes idiosyncratic, combination His archival installation, characterized as it was by of fact and fiction, a mixture of what we know and deconstructionist themes, was shaped by the theoret­ what we believe. ical concerns of irs time-as were Boltanski's views of reality and truth. It was in this light that I kept Boltanski's project in mind as we began investigating the history of the If the number of Boltanski's boxes hinted at the mag­ Carnegie International. Our understanding of the ni tude of the historical cask this volume represents, International depends upon the state of the evidence their random arrangement suggested the task's com­ and our ability to evaluate and interpret what infor­ plexity by reflecting the disorganization of the mation is available. On a fundamental level, Boltanski's actual International archives, housed at both the "archive" was inaccurate. In the process of compil­ Museum and the Archives of American Art in ing his lists, he made no attempt to ensure accuracy Washington, D.C. Furthermore, just as there were and so, in fact, mistakes abounded. To mention gaps in Boltanski's archives, there are gaps in the a few: George de Forest Brush's name appeared as Museum's, where tempting references proved elusive. George de Forest Browne; other artists' names For example, we searched in vain for notebooks that were missing altogether; dates were incorrect. The were prepared for director Homer Saint-Gaudens's "record" was tainted. Boltanski's ambiguities and European travels, notebooks that reportedly list all errors reRected rhose in rhe "real" archives that raise the foreign artists he considered for his exhibitions, many questions for historians. Why is Frank Benson's with notes about studio visits, dealers, and so on. Also prizewinning work, PMtrait of a Boy, listed in both not found was any evidence of a notebook about the 1896 and 1897 shows? Are the long lists of foreign che participation of Italian artists in the exhibitions advisors to the exhibition even remotely accurate? chat Saint-Gaudens prepared and presented to Some who were asked to consult accepted but did Mussolini. Similarly, the many primary sources which not serve because of illness or death; yet their names could provide insights into decisions chat shaped remain on the roster. How did some paintings, che various Internationals-from irs establishment such as a recently discovered Picasso, come to bear to irs recem reorganizations- either no longer exist International labels when they are not listed in any or are awaiting discovery in some obscure location.2 ex hibition catalogue? Attempts to resolve such Add co che record's incompleteness the need co discrepancies-and the ones mentioned here are interpret the evidence we do have, and the historian's but a few examples- might cake a lifetime of cask becomes even more complex. To take one tedious fact checking. example: when David Smith refUsed the third prize Boltanski, though, was delighted by these riddles. for sculpture in the 1961 exhibition, he wrote to He understood the complications of incompleteness, the Fine Arts Committee of Carnegie Institute: "I do ambiguity, and subjectivity that permeate the enter­ not wish co accept the prize your guest jury has hon­ prise of history. This is evident in other pieces ored me with. I wish the money involved returned to by Boltanski, including Les S1tisses mMis (The dead Institute directors, and I hope applied co use for Swiss), also in the 1991 International, a work in purchase. I believe the awards system in our day is which photographs gathered from obituaries in Swiss archaic. In my opinion all costS of jury. travel, mis­ newspapers were rephotographed and enlarged, cellaneous expenses of the award machinery could be thereby accentuating the subjects' eyes and giving more honorably extended m the artist by purchase." them the appearance of Holocaust victims. Implicit T he letter, which Smith also sent to the New York in this work is Boltanski's acknowledgment that Times for publication, led co the Museum's purchase photography (like history) is not wholly objective, of several Smith drawings. However, Smith's personal correspondence revealed another side to his rejection I of the prize: "Was Pia:sburgh & back-got 3rd Bischoff, Elmer prize, refused it at once. 3rd class virtue I don't want 1964. 1967 -rather be old whore. Will sray our of competitions now.''3 Both his public and private reactions were probably genuine, yet each is misleading without the other. Together they g•ve a more complete picture, but their seeming contradictions complicate histori­ cal interpretation. -

L1terprecation, though, is what history is all about, Bouch, l ouis Alexandre and it is all we have when we look at perhaps the 1897. 1901, 1934. 1935, 1937. 193~. most important figure in the Carnegie International's history: Andrew Carnegie himself. To deploy a pop­ ular metaphor, there is no "smoking gun" here- no direct, irrefutable evidence of Carnegie's vision of the International. Although he was a prolific writer (author of eight books, sixry-rhree articles in major magazines, and a voluminous correspondence), Carnegie was uncharacteristically silent on the exhi­ Browne. George de Forest bition that now bears his name. We are left to infer his intentions from other sources, including "The Gospel of Wealth," an article published in two parts in N~rth American Review in r889; Carnegie's addresses at the dedication of Carnegie Library of in 1895 and at the opening of the ex­ panded facilities in 1907; his Letters to various officials at Carnegie Library of Pittsburgh; the deed of Degas. Edgar Carnegie Library of Pittsburgh, in which he set forth 1!196. 1897. 1900. 190 1. 1902. 19:!0 his gift and his few specific stipulations; and such publications as his article about rne Chicago World's Fair of 1893 in Er~gineering Magazine.4

From t.hese various starements, it appears that Carnegie envisioned an annual exhibition that would combine aspects of the Paris Salons and the world's fairs, and would thereby introduce to Pittsburgh and Murray, El izabeth ils citizens the best European and American art­ 1988 art that was already available ro the citizens of many European capitals. I lis goals, which scholars and curators would attempt ro describe, clarifY, and reflect throughout the: next century, were both concrete and ephemeral. But he was explicit in his desire that the • Museum's permanent collection be built through the

- - ~- acguisition of works fi-om each annual exhibition.

Rotella. Mimmo Boxes from Bo ltanski's 195 1, 1964 1991 International installation. • In the process, Carnegie directed, the Museum would generate a Chronological Collection of the best American works, those that would become "old mas­ ters with time." 5 By these means, Carnegie hoped also to chart the progress of art in his adopted home­ land and co transform industrial Pittsburgh inco a cultural capital. More generally, he wanted to inspire and educate audiences and artists alike, stimulating American artists to achievements equal to those of their European countcrparts.6 And Carnegie desired Jl,•,.anl.l'rU6lito 19:11. 1933. t9:l.'i. u.. rn,.ouc·r. Clour lc·s 19011 l'lli lluffmnn. llal'f) L I '!011. Carnegie's later years, when he established founda­ lli ~!(i ns. \ittor 1922. 19'!0 192.ll9'l4. 19'L>. 19:13. lloOc·lult·r.l(UIIulf 19.12. tions for the promotion of peace and funded 14f.~} 1961 the Temple of Peace built in T he H ague in 1907. lligg.in•. t:uJ!cnr I'I'll. llu rmun. llno~> l'.l.i:!. I'.l.iH. I 'I'll. 19'i6 1%1 l~g~in>. t:Oh·ard 1961 llo~arlh 1902 These optimistic, wide-reaching, yet somerunes llildcbrondt.llo"ard llccj!U<·. 1\olr L I9".!3 1897. 189&. 1~. I'JCI,I. llul!u•. \lc·\3ncln· 1'1311. intangible ambitions-so typical both of lace-nine­ 191li. 1901. 1910. 19U. 19:19 teenth-century America and of Andrew Carnegie 19'22 llol;:•lt·. tAh•in II. IC(.S.} llill. Roo,.rll 1898 llollaotl. R., nuccul 19"20 as a man who both influenced and embodied his era llillirr. Trt.tranl 193.i. llc ollt·~ha. \lulf;!ull(! 1958. 19:14. 1950 1961. 1961.1967 -seem dated and perhaps even simplistic in our llilbrnith. f'annit LIJ55 llollc .... " •lliuni. t;,zh·r more skeptical late-twentieth-century view. How could llihrn:um. Joeh•n 1961. 19'.!11 196 1. 1967.1970 llolmhoo·. Thnrulf 1911. the mere exhibition of art inspire and educate? Did lliltun. Ru) 19:l1, 1n1 19'!0 llirunan, C:harl.., 196i llolnw. l.uc1 IJ. I1 Jtli the need to build the Museum's permanent collection IIi..,, TJ.eo 1961 llulmt'>. s;;t:h:~r l t•, J. lli•1uil) 1958 19'21. 19:11. 1 9~ 1 almost exclusively through the show skew the selec­ lli ,.,..·h, Stcra n 1930, 19:11, llulsiic•. I""' 192:1 tion of works? Could any art, much less any single 193:1. 19:11 lluiJ.t•r. Jc·nn1 198.> llirsrh. Ju;qoh 1'150. 1952 llcol?. lo:o~~e·r . F.uoil 11129 cxhibiti.on, contribute anything at all to international Hi" ' · o.... · k 1%1. t9M llunwr. Wiu,lnll 189fo. ll itc·hnM·k. (;, ... ,~,. I8W1. 1897. 18911. 111'19. 1'1110. peace and goodwill? Could gritty Pittsburgh become 189i. 1193. 1119'1 1901. 1903, 1901, 1'.1117. a true cultttral capital? llih•ht•lb. h un 19:17. 19:111. 1908 19:\V, 1952, 1958 llnmt.,. Sir Uoarlc·> 19:!.i lljt·rtfn-Griinc·" aiel. llnmnwl. t:conrud 1'126. The success or failure of Carnegie's visionary initia­ Si::ritl 19:15 19'29. 19:1:1 llcoh!J<•ma J91r2 llonnc;:c·r. c;.. nrrit·cl 1961. tive is practically impossible to measure, especia!Jy llurh. Fran• 19117 191:.1. 1Wc7 with regard to the public, the mass audience that n... ~ m·). J}.-id 1967. llopl.iro. Jamt'> R. 1912. 1982 1908. 1909. 191:1. 1911. Carnegie hoped his philanthropy would reach, llndJ!t'. t'ramiS. 19'21. 1920. 19'2 1. 19"....) I lfl.i encourage, and educate. Ir is far easier to trace the International's effects on individuals-artists whose careers it has promoted, museum directors whose reputations it has bolstered-just as it is easier to assess the exhibition's role in the introduction and acceptance of modernism in America, or to gauge its influence on younger artists, or to look ar media coverage and attendance patterns that reflect tthe show's importance co both the local audience and the international art world. These elements of me International's history help ro explain irs long life, but they do not enable us to assess irs effectiveness in securing me more elusive of Carnegie's objectives­ education, enlightenment, peace, and goodwill. These hopes remain a part of Carnegie's legacy, however, and so mey influence our ongoing assessment of Museum practices and education memods. Although llnllkinMm. CIJarlt'S 18%. lluyl:uul. Jnlon 196i. 19111. our focus might shift-for example, from a concern 18911. 1899, 19iiiJ. 191):1. 1982 about parity between European and American 1901. 1911i, l909, 1910. lli< i•u f.hin 1%1 1911 , 1912, 1922. l!rZ:l, llu f:h i-£:h u n ~ l%i artists to questions about diversity in global terms­ 1921, 19-2!i. 1!12l•,l927. lluung Yun~ l'iug 19\1 1 19:31. 19:J:J, 19:11. 1 9:~') . lluhl,.ll. ll•mry Sal'' "' we still seek today to educate and inspire through 19:16. I'Xli. I•I:Ul. l9:19, 1907. 190'1. 1\120 the harmonious convergence in Pittsburgh of artistic 19511 lluhcr, r.mst 19:11 . 19:11. llnp1•er. Edw:onl 1928. 193.), 19:111, 19:19, 19511 viewpoints from around the world. With every 19:1(1, 19:11. 19:1:1. 19:11. llubner. lllril'h 1907, 19:15. 19:16. 19:li. 1938. 191'18. 1912. 191:1.1911. mounting of the lnternational, and every new audi­ 19:19. 1950. 19;):';. 19.;11. 1925. 1926. 19'li. 19:! I ence that experiences it, our interpretation of art IW.i llurleeck. 1\nluniu 19'22. lloppnt•r 191'12 19':21, 192.i. 19'26 and its purposes shifts, as does our understanding lloriurhi.l' aul 1%1. 1%1 llu•bon. Gra...- 1896 llorn. RriKwa 1983 lludson. Eri•· 19'2'1 of the exhibition's history, of Andrew Carnegie, llorm·l. t~ ~. Ill%. 1897. ll ughe<-Sianlon. ll. 1910. and of his role in me founding of me show. 18'.13. 1'.101.190'1. 1910. 1912. 191:1. 191-1 191 3. l!rltl. l!rl'l ll ii~n. Karl 1935 11'""'-"'1!· Prrb.•n 19;,2 lluj!o. Jean 195.'i What is most intriguing about the International in llurlun, ~illiant S. 1907. llull. Jame< 19.;ll 1\108 llullwen. O,ar 1926 light of these constant changes is not irs uniqueness llulsbergen, ll•n E. 1935 but its tenacity. The exhibition inaugurated at JJ.,..ia~"tll, l'hiliJil"' 19SK. ll ultbrr~. John 1955. 1961 1 9~. 1 96 1 Carnegie Institute in 1896 was not, after all, one of "'"''· cnur l~:r;. I 'K~s llultt'n, CO. 1961 lloul.ron. t'r<~ l <•ri•· I'>Ui llumhln1, Rohrrl 19511 a kind. Other American institutions had already lluustun. G•·nrg•· 1922 llumnwl Thmdnr<• 1399. established annual exhibitions by men, and other """· ll<·:~ l ri• ·•· I'JI O, 19 11. 1'.10 1. 190R 1912. 1111:1. 1 ~ 11 . 1920, llumphrtys, Allwrl 1903, American cities were keen to bring contemporary 1922. I9'2:1. 192:;. 1921• 1901 lim• a rd. Jnhn l.un!(l ~y lluul, Ri t·har•l 1958, J%1 art to their citizens. The world's fairs had grown 1%1 llunlt•r. illu exhibitions in 1895· lln .. bnol. G~o·~·· 1\IOi llul!'ht·n,, Franl T. 1911. lin~ land. J,abt·lla 19t'J. l'l'lO For the most part, che other grand international I'll:! Jlulehi"'"· Roher! C..-mmdl I90i. 1')'!1 exhibitions have come and gone. The Paris Salons, for example, dwindled in importance as artists organized alternative exhibitions, and the impact of Pages of Christian Bo tanski's book. Archrve ofthe Carnegie lnternotionol18g6-199'· the world's fairs diminished once museums began from the 1991 International. to mount major exhibitions. But the International at Carnegie Institute has survived, amid acute finan­ cial concerns, huge expenditures of human energy, changes in world poli tics, and unending questions

lr about the validity of such enterprises-especially from artists. T he International has shifted form and emphasis to address these concerns, but it has always, in some way, honored its traditions. It has been cen­ tered on the Museum's interpretation of its founder's desires and beliefs, for it was Carnegie's power, vision, and wealth that launched the exhibition wi th enough momentum to carry it far beyond his own life span.

John W Beatty, a Pittsburgh artist and educator selected as the first director of the Department of Fine Arts (now the Museum of Art), oversaw the ~ annual exhibitions from 1896 through 1921. H e had FOREIGN ADVISORY the dilfi.cult task of getting them started under the .:1r ..,-r. ~ COM Mil T f. S watchful eye of Carnegie, whom he strove to please even as he set a high standard for the show's future. His decisions, as much as Carnegie's influence, had LONDON Edwin A. Abbey . L. Alma-Ta.dema an impact on the actions and interpretations of John S. Sargent other later directors, perhaps because his tenure set W. Q. Orchardson the pattern for the next hundred years-a pattern George H. Boughton Luk,.. fddes in which each director honored the founder's goals F. D. Mtl!et even as they adapted to difiiculties and constraints J. J. Shannon in ways that left their own mark. With each director PARIS P. Puvi:; ck Ch.n·annc$ securing the exhibition's survival despite financial James McNetl Wbtsllcr and social hardships, the show has become a resilient, P. A. J. Dago:tn-Bouvcrd John W. Al.:xander enduring tradition. Its historical continuity alone J. J. Ben,anun-Con,.tanl provides a strong foundation, especially in a ci.ry like Walter Gay Pittsburgh, which is politically liberal, yet is con­ Leon Au ustm Lhermille Ch..irles Sprague Pearce servative in its ardent loyalty to its history and tradi­ Miss Mary Cassall tions. Andrew Carnegie's vision, each director's M UNICH P rof. Ludwig von Loefft t ingenuity, and the city's character have undoubtedly Pro£. Carl Marr reinforced each other from the very beginning of Prof. Franz Stuck the International. Orrin Peck ). F rank Currier Beatty's assessment of the first annual exhibitions echoed Carnegie's goals: "The manifest tendency on the pan of the people to critically study the works with the purpose of deriving the greatest possible amount of instruction and pleasure, was gratifying to all interested in the aesthetic advancement of our community... [giving] the large number of art students residing in Pittsburgh and surrounding territory an unusual opportunity to broaden their knowledge .... That the first annual exhibition exerted a powerful influence in the cukivation of love for the rrue and beautiful is beyond question. In addition, it has given to the FLne Arts Department a definite place in the estltnation of people every­ where, as an exponent of a high standard in the field of an. The Carnegie Art Galleries have become favor­ ably known throughout this country and Europe."'

Even as Beatry served Carnegie's wishes, however, he also had to devise solutions to countless problems. Through the first several annuals, he had to convince artists, especiaUy those in Europe, to submit to a L 0 n Af ONS convolu ted jurying system that differed from city to city. and to send thei r best works to an obscure cor­ J. J. Shannon- Mjss K..itty 2 John S. Sargent Portr3it ner of the wodd where the sales that Beatry promised 3 Geori!e de Forest I rush- Mother and Child as an inducement rarely materialized. Beatty also 4 John M. Sw,1n Study of Ell~t African Leop.ud had to develop organizational strategies for avoiding 5 Fntz I haulow- The Arql•~at Ancourt- the mistakes of the first show, in which, for instance, Evening- o Jol.n W. Alexand~r The Pot of Basil he promised some of the selected works to an i A. Bryan Wall Sh.:ep, Evwing exhibition in Philadelphia whose dates inconveniently 8 Cecilia Ee:~ux -Portr;ut q EdmuPd C. T artdl Child with Ho~ overlapped the International's. As a result, the 10 Fr.1nk W. E.:nson Girl Readmg Pittsburgh show was criticized for not hanging all II Winslow H~rNr-A Light on the S~ 12 J. A.lc:~n W.:1r Fac.: rdl.:ct.:d in a Mirror the works at one time. He also met with complaints 13 Edwm Lord W~.:k~-Th.: Tea-uis Paul De!!>J• Mending th' Nets 8 lb Wilton Lock\\.ood- Th~ Viol..irust group of businessmen, not artists. 17 William M. Chas.!-Portr,lit of Mtss H IS G~orge Hitcbcock- ANadn~ . the forsaken Beatry telt acutely the toll of attending to myriad lq Will H. Low At the Spring 20 F. D. Millet-Youth issues like these each year. H e complained as well 21 Giov,\nni Sc11anhni Vanity and Envy that the huge ouclay ot resources needed for the 22 L. H~rtench Oph.:lia 23 )uli .1n Dupre- Cows 111 tbe Shade exhibition prevented him &om establishing a worthy 2·1 Henry Oliver WaJl,er The Breeze permanent collection. And he was concerned about 25 Joseph R. W oodwell An old Orchard 26 H. H. L1 Th.tngue- In a Shepherd's Hut the annual exhibition's emphasis on contemporary art 27 Samcel Isham Portrait especi::tlly, it seems, tor its effect on Pittsburgh audi­ 28 GJ.l-riel Max· Grecian girl Wtth Floowers 2'1 Franz von L~nl:ach- Portrait ences. In 1902. he addressed this concern by replacing the annuaJ with an exhibition of historical works chosen to provide balance and background. In the years of the First World War, he was torced to suspend the show altogether, finding it impossible ro gather international works or sufficient fi.mds. Pages from the catalogue of the 1897 International. The tenure of Beatty's successor, Homer Saint­ Gaudens, fits this same pattern of vision and tradition, stress and adaptation-a pattern that characterizes most of the International's history. Sainr-Gaudens, appointed in 192.2., faced the same

2l From Carnegie Institute's Founder's Day program, 1915 .

Mr. and i\lrs. Andre\\' (~arnegie L ''(;ood-hve to Pittsburg h ''' · rheir last visit, <> ctober 30 , r 9 r + frustrations that Beatty faced, and new problems as despised. Likewise, he had to deal with the Soviet well. Although he simplified the exhibition's cumber­ Uruon and Italy, reacting to the swiftly changing some organizational strucrure, he mounted eighteen politics that affected artists and the arts in these Internationals in a world much more complicated countries. Finally, political rurmoil escalated into than Beatty's. Rapid change was everywhere: mecha­ war. Saint-Gaudens, unable to acquire works from nization led to huge demographic shifts; countries abroad during the years of World War n, mounted precipitously redrew borders and replaced leaders; a yearly display of American art in place of the and the art world saw new trends emerge and lnrernationaJ.9 After the war ended, financial troubles disappear more rapidly than ever before. kept the International from reappearing until 1950. Nevertheless, as Susan Platt suggests in this volume, Along with this new instability, Sainr-Gaudens faced the International's very survival after these dra­ rising competition from other art institutions in matic difficulties might be seen as evidence of the the United States, which had begun w motmt major Museum's commitment to continuity in reaction ex hjbitions of their own. New York- with the to the upheaval in Europe. fotmding of the Museum of Modern Art, the Whitney Museum of American Art, and the Guggenheim Despite-or perhaps in response to-the many hard­ Museum, as weU as the establishment of many new ships he faced as director, Sainr-Gaudens made the galleries and nonprofit exhibition spaces- devel­ International distinctly his own, especially by intro­ oped a massive and complex structure for supporting ducing in 1923 the idea of hanging the show by contemporary art, and thereby set a new standard country. H e adhered to the widespread nationalism in rhe United States. New York's 1913 Armory Show, of the rime with this innovation; he even wroce organized by artists who were dissatisfied with the articles in Carntgit Magazint that integrated his under­ establishment's lack of support for modernism, was standing of a country's art with its cuisine, customs, a watershed event that, even by the beginning of landscape, and character. But Sainr-Gaudens also Saim-Gaudens's time as director, still challenged both maintained the spirit of Andrew Carnegie. He wrote the aspirations and the organization of major exhi­ repeatedly that he intended his Internationals ro bitions, including the International. "render a report on contemporary picturemaking," for which the public could write the ediwrial. Saint-Gaudens, though personally not comfortable The role he thus assigned to the audience was very with European modernism, did gradually introduce much in keeping with Carnegie's emphasis on the it, in moderation, w Pittsburgh. H e never allowed exhibition's educational purpose. it to dominate the show, and he continued to include works in more realistic and accessible styles. In 1932, A few years before the appointment of Gordon the Great Depression forced Saint-Gaudens to cancel Bailey Washburn as director in 1949 (Saint-Gaudens the show for lack or funds, and it likewise prevented retired after the 1950 International), the Interna­ him from traveling co Europe to select the 1935 show. tional entered its second fifty years-and a postwar By this time, with Saim-Gaudens balancing mod­ era of growth, innovation, and Cold War. Washburn errust and traditional works, the International was accompanied Saint-Gaudens on his last European becoming an almost impossibly inclusive presenta­ journey in 1950, but the new director chose to accen­ tion, and the tension plunged him straight into the tuate the new in art, turning with much greater world poJjtics clm culminared in World War n. enthusiasm than his predecessor had shown to the In order to balance two opposing branches of art, abstract forms char came to dominate the 1950s. Saint-Gaudens was forced to negmiate between This created a more difficult encounter for the viewer, the Nazis, with their official "German" art, and the but Washburn carried on the educational tradition expatriates and "degenerates" whom rhe Nazis of the International by hiring Katherine Kuh, of the Art Institute of Chicago, to repeat for Pittsburgh commissioned a study of the exhibition that, in audiences her acclaimed exhibition elucidating light of the unpredictable public reception and con­ abstract art. Washburn rightly realized that his audi­ stant financial pressures, recommended a new ence woLdd dislike his almost complete emphasis approach. Arkus abandoned the International's on abstract p:.~in r· ing and sculpture, and he wrote long survey format in £wor of single-artist shows that he articles for Camegie Magazine that attempted co put felc would contribute significantly co a growing modernism into perspective. H e even taped a televi­ body of scholarship on contemporary masters. His sion series on modern art. Nevertheless, the public decision reflected changes in art scholarship that, and the trustees expressed disdain for Washburn's for many years, had moved toward a closer focus on advocacy, which, unlike Saint-Gaudens's, did not the works and impact of individual artists. Arkus attempt to balance abstract and traditional art. This also acted in concert with a period of more active challenged Washburn himself, not the show; but collecting by devoting major resources to building other, deeper forces did threaten the exhibition. Finan­ and filling the new wing of Carnegie 11sritute, the cial troubles became so serious by 1955 that even a Sarall Scaife Gallery, which would house the growing generous grant from the A. W Mellon Educational permanent collection. This marked the first time and Charitable Trust could not ensure the fuLUre that a director emphasized the permanent collection of d1e International. The 1958 exhibition was rescued and the Museum itself rather than the International. only because it was made a part of Pittsburgh's Ir represented the biggest change in the show's bicentennial celebration, and reflected the cicy's pride history, a radical departure from tradition-but the in its time-honored traditions. change proved short-lived.

It was not until the 197os, however, cl1at the lnterna­ The 198os saw phenomenal growth in the art world. rional deviated from its original format and spiric. New art magazines and new museums appeared, The prosperous, peaceful, homogeneous fifties gave exhibition spaces expanded for more and larger shows, way to considerable upheaval in the succeeding and a voracious market developed, with many new decade. Campus rebellions appeared at major univer­ galleries to serve ic. A series of major exhibitions in sities, and the civil rights and antiwar movements Europe- ushered in by Tbe NM Spirit of Painting appeared on the streets. The art world was nor (London, 1981) and Zeitgeist (Berlin, 1982.) and the untouched: artists grew disenchanted with com­ prominence of Documtnta iJ1 the 198os in Kassel, petitive, large-scale exhibitions, and some challenged Germany-generated a great many new exhibitions the very structure and purpose of museums by and rejuvenated older ones, such as the Interna­ working outside rhc estabLshed institutional systems. tional and the Venice Biennale. The anti-establishment spirit of the times chal­ Informed by a late-rwemieth-century perspective lenged everything that was old and long-honored, that sought, in the midst of rapid growth, to redefine and museums, like many other institutions, had museums, their audiences, and their practices, to respond both creatively and wisely, especially as Carnegie director John R. Lane returned to a survey social changes exacerbated the ever-present concerns format similar to Lhe original one, and at the same about finances. time looked to the roots of me Museum to re-evalu­ At the Museum, directors Gustave von Groschwitz ate its fotmder's hopes. Under Lane's guidance, (1961-67) and Leon A. Arkus (1970-79) at first the International again took on the multiple role of continued the survey format of the International. providing a forum for European and American an, But in 1972., after the winds of social and political adding to the permanent collection, and reposition­ change had been blowing for at least ten yeal:"s, ing both Pittsburgh and the Carnegie Museum of the A. \V. Mellon Charitable and Educational Trust Art as major sites in the international contemporary THE JOURNAL Of ART, VOL. I, ~0. 2, JA..""lUARY 1989 Pittsburgh The Carnegie Syndrome Play It again, Sam

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From The journal ofArt, 1989 louise lawler, HAVING ATTAINED VI5181LITY AS WELL AS MANACINC TO CATCH THE EYE OF THE SPECTATOR .•. , 1991 (Installation detail from the 1991 International.) art world. The financial costs were enormous, but that basket." He honestly believed chat his own funds were more readily available than in other H oratio Alger-like story, which began in poverty times, both from the Pittsburgh business community and eventually saw him the richest man in America, -which began to see the importance of supporting could be duplicated by anyone who pursued self­ the city's cultural endeavors-and from endowments improvement and rook advantage of every educational and grants. In fact, the art boom of the 198os was opportunity. Carnegie frequendy extolled poverty to some extent a product of Wall Street. People who as a bracing, even necessary, scare for any successful had made large financial gains were looking for man. He never forgot his humble roots, and he gen­ sound, permanent invesonents, which many of them uinely cared about the quality of life of the "masses" found in works of art. T he M useum was likewise for whom he developed his philanthropic program. able to buy-and the permanent collection grew as Carnegie had a specific plan for the working classes. Carnegie must have hoped it wo uld-without fiscal At the 1895 ded ication of Carnegie Library of anxiety. Thus che 198os, in stark contrast to the two Pittsburgh he said: "I am not content to pass down preceding decades, were in tune wich Carnegie's in the as one who only helped own age, with its pose-Civil War economic boom­ the masses to obtain greater enjoyment of those and perhaps, as a consequence, with his vision. appetites which we share equall y with rhe brutes­ In this context, Lane could sensibly return to the more to eat, more to drink, and richer raiment .... exhibition's original format. In keeping with Carnegie's My aspiration rakes a higher flight. Mine be it to hopes to create an American Salon, Lane saw the have contributed to enlightenment and joys of the

International as Pittsburgh's blockbuster, on a mind, to the things of the spirit, to all that rends to par with Documenta and the Venice Biennale. And bring into the lives of the toilers of Pittsburgh in keeping with Carnegie's desire co make smoky sweetness and light. I hold this the noblest possible Pittsburgh a world-class cultural center, Lane wanted use of wealth." 11 Like most other late-nineteenth­ to capture an international audience for contempo­ century philanthropists, he considered himself a mere rary art, bringing attention and prestige to the trustee of wealth. He saw himself not as a rich man Museum. He renamed the exhibition the Carnegie who would leave his fortune to his family or to others International, attaching the founder's name to it to adncinister, but as an intermediary who would for the first rime, and he argued chat a new commit­ "consider all surplus revenues which come to him ment to the International was essential because the simply as trust funds, which he is called upon to show had idemified the as administer, and strictly bound as a matter of duty the first museum of modern art in the United States. to administer in the manner which, in his judgment, This process of defining the Museum's mission­ is best calculated LO produce the most beneficial and the institution's history-reflected a profession­ results for the community-the man of wealth thus alization of museum administration chat introduced becoming the mere Lrustee and agent for his poorer business practices such as long-term planning. brethren, bringing to their service his superior wis­ dom, experience, and abiliry ro administer, doing In returnmg to the International's origins, Lane also for them better than chey would or could do revived interest in its founder, a complex, multifac­ for themselves." 12 eted man.10 Andrew Carnegie was a brilliant business­ man who, with only five years of formal schooling, Today it is hard to understand why Carnegie insisted rose through the ranks of industry to become a steel on "improving the race" by founding libraries and tycoon. He consolidaled his enterprise in all its museums instead of by increasing wages and im­ aspects, coining a phrase that expressed his strategy: proving working conditions; but his artitude was "Put all your eggs in one basket, and then ward1 pe1fectly in line with contemporary practices and philosophy, especially Social Darwinism, an adap­ The effort to reconcile the seeming contradictions tation of Charles Darwin's theory of the biological in Carnegie's character springs from the historian's "survival of the fittest" to social science. Herbert desire to create a coherent narrative. Carnegie was a Spencer (1820-1903) and Matthew Arnold (1822.-1888), ruthless competitor, often listed among the infamous both friends of Carnegie, were contributors to this robber barons of his time, but that does not taint new thinking, and they influenced Carnegie im­ his philanthropic enterprise. Unlike most other cap­ mensely. Carnegie, a pragmatic man, departed from tains of industry or people who inherit wealth, his friends in his belief that one might intervene in Carnegie attempted to give away his fortune, setting the evolutionary process, even as he shared with them an example that is still rare today. He firmly believed elusive ideas about the ability of art to uplift humanity. in his "scientific philanthropy," his intervention in Social Darwinist forces, thl'ough which he intended It is also hard today to reconcile Carnegie's ideal of to improve the human race. He rook seriously his stewardship, and his heartfelt connection with his "Hallelujah business," ready to promote it in speech workers, with the violent confrontation that erupted and in print. If his "Gospel of Wealth" and his in r892 between a force of hired Pinkerton agents philanthropy elicited the resentment of spurned and scriking steelworkers at Homestead.13 T h ere is supplicantS, and severe criticism from some social little doubt that this conflict, and the resulting criti­ workers who were interested in the distribution cism, pained Carnegie greatly. Although it is not - and nor the redistribll[ion-of wealth/6 such clear what role Carnegie played in events leading to negativity did not deter him. He left a remarkable the strike and its outcome, he bore responsibility as legacy- more than 1,250 public libraries in rhe United head of the steel company, and he was disappointed States and Great Britain, the Temple of Peace in that his relationship with his employees was dra­ The Hague, pension plans, swimming baths, and, matically tarnished. He wrote in his autobiography: of course, Carnegie Institute. Carnegie was an "Nothing I have ever had to meet in all my Lfe, optimist; he rode high on his personal success in before or since, wounded me so deeply. No pangs his adopted country, even as his new homeland remain of any wound received in my business was experiencing irs own post-Civil War prosperity. career save that of Homestead.'''4 On November 5, He believed sincerely that he could make a differ­ 1898, while dedicating a library in Homestead, he ence in his world. said: "The great pain of our united lives, a1·ising from business and which has haunted us for years, A similar senrjment prevailed in rhe late 196os and came from the deplorable event here, which startled eaJ:iy 1970s. Would Carnegie have sympathized? us when far away, and which even ye t has not lost irs Or would he have felt more at home in the economic power at intervals to sadden our lives. The memories boom of the 198os? \Vould he have been able to which Homestead has called \;IP to this time have adapt to recenc ideas- to tl1e cynicism that has char­ sometimes saddened us, and we hoped that this occa­ acterized several art movements in the last few sion might till our minds with such a beautiful pic­ decades, or to current poscmoderni.st theory? Would ture as to enable us to banish the cruel memories of Carnegie even recognize the International, in its the past forever .... By this meeting, by your welcome, recent manifestations, as having anything to do with by these smiling faces, all the regretful thoughts, all his philanthropic goals? Would he feel those goals the unpleasant memories, are henceforth and forever - both concrete and elusive-had been fulfilled? in the deep bosom of the ocean buried .... This build­ Would he be surprised at the longevity of his exhi­ ing, which I now dedicate, may it indeed be between bition? One thing seems cercain: he would have a capital and labor, an emblem of peace, reconcilia­ strong and immediate reaction, one that would be tion, mental confidence, harmony and union." 15

30 inRuenced by his personal experiences and by his Yet, on display. it assumed another life. Viewers inter­ turn-of-the-century turn of mind, just as our under­ acted with it. Someone placed Campbell's soup standing of rum and of his intentions is shaped by cans in Andy Warhol's box. Pieces of wax from Ann contemporary concerns and ideas. Hamilton's installation appeared in hers. And after the end of the exhibition, Boltanski's boxes were Andrew Carnegie, by leaving a general idea for an either destroyed or, in some cases, added to private annual exhibition and not a detailed plan, allowed collections in Pittsburgh. Many of us who saw those who have mounted the fifty-two Internationals his installation have only our imperfect memories to interpret his intentions liberally. The task has of it, a personal form of history that is as fictive always been to create a balance among innovation, and variable as any other-constructed from frag­ reassessment, and tradition. Each organizer of the ments and traces. T he Intemacional has changed Carnegie International, while re maining true to his over the last one hundred years, and so has our interpretacion of Carnegie's goals, has also put his understanding of it. own mark upon the exhibirion, often in an effort to counter forces that threatened the show's continued In the meantime our task has been, and continues to existence. Perhaps, in this way. Carnegie's elusive be, enormous. T his volume, whi.ch started out to be aims, and the flexibility they encouraged in the the history of the Carnegie International, has become face of challenge, allowed a kind of institutional a history. We hope it wll.l stimulate a good deal of Darwinism co prevail, a "survival of the fittest" of further work, a continuing, figurative filling-up of innovations and interpretations-and thus, through Christian Boltanski's archival boxes. an infusion of new and adaptive ideas, the survival of the show.

Cover of Christian Whether or not Carnegie would recognize his ideas Boltanski's book, Archive or his exhibition today. he would surdy understand oft he Carnegie International that the Carnegie International could never have lasted 1896- 1991, from the 1991 Carnegie International. a century as a static entity. It has always shifted, CHRISTIAN BOLTANSKI not only in conception, but also in perception. Viewers, as well as curators and scholars, perceive the exhibition each according to his or her own knowl­ edge, experiences, and rime. Thus rbe Carnegie ARCIIIVE OF THE International is never the same exhibition twice; each differs, nor only from the ochers, bur within its own time and with each pair of eyes that views it. CARNEGIE INTERNATIONAL In this way, it is like the works of art it cdebrates, works that assume a new character once they leave 1896-1991 the studio and enrer the public realm. Rarely-if ever-does either a work of art or an exhibition reflect its creator's vision in every aspecr.

Christian Boltanski's 1991 installation leaves us with exactly that message. Once Boltanski had assembled all the boxes for his work, presenting the viewer I with an overwhelming number of "facts" to assimilate L------~ and contemplate, his own creation was complete.

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