"Bill Wixom, grand acquisitor of medieval art" (Interview), The Art Newspaper, April 1999, pp. 10-11.

The Met pays tribute to Bill Wixom, grand acquisitor of medieval art

by Jason Edward Kaufman

NEW YORK. For two decades one person has been in charge of The Metropolitan Museum of Art's medieval treasures: William D. Wixom. Last September, with little fanfare, the reserved bespectacled sixty-nine-year-old connoisseur retired as Michel David-Weill chairman of the department of medieval art and The Cloisters, bringing to a close a distinguished career that

stretched over forty years. According to fellow medievalist Robert P. Bergman, director of The Cleveland Museum, "Bill has been the most important force in his field for the last twenty-five years. I consider his retirement a major loss for the American museum community and for the collecting of medieval art in the United States."

Wixom's first job in the art world was a teaching post at the Albert C. Barnes Foundation in his native Philadelphia. He recalls strolling the galleries as the eccentric collector expounded on his pictures and recounted personal dealings with artists like Matisse and Soutine, all the while flicking cigarette ashes into his fine ceramics. Wixom enrolled at New York University's Institute of Fine Arts where he was captivated by the animated lectures on medieval art by Harry Bober and trained for a semester in the Met's medieval department. In 1958 director Sherman Lee appointed him assistant curator of decorative arts at The Cleveland Museum, where he would become chief curator of early Western art by 1979 when he accepted the chairmanship at the Met.

There he became steward of the leading collection of medieval art in the Western hemisphere -- with holdings spanning the fourth to the sixteenth centuries, from the fall of the Roman Empire to late Gothic in Italy and the North. Reigning from one of the most remarkable offices in Manhattan -- an upper story in the romanesque tower of The Cloisters in Fort Tryon Park, whose double-arched windows frame panoramas of the city from its northern tip to the World Trade Center -- Wixom acquired more masterpieces and organised more major exhibitions than any other curator of medieval art in the country, coordinating landmark shows such as "The Royal Abbey of Saint-Denis in the Time of Abbot Suger" (1981), "The Treasure of San Marco" (1985), "Gothic and Renaissance Art in Nuremberg" (1986), and "The Glory of Byzantium" (1997), the latter overview of the middle Byzantine period comprising more than 350 objects from 119 lenders in 24 countries. If Wixom's name went largely unnoticed by the public, his achievements did not: more than 400,000 visitors flocked to "The glory of Byzantium", and annual attendance at The Cloisters today reaches 230,000, comparable with some of the smaller of the infinitely more accessible midtown museums.

This month the Met unveils what director Philippe de Montebello calls "the most appropriate tribute I can imagine to William D. Wixom upon his retirement: a milestone exhibition...celebrating the major achievement of his career -- the dramatic expansion of the museum's superb medieval collection." With more than three hundred masterworks in all media, "Mirror of the Medieval World" will remain on view at the Metropolitan's Fifth Avenue flagship from March 9 to July 4. We spoke with Bill Wixom about the field of medieval art and his accomplishments at the Met.

Jason Edward Kaufman

JEK: Has the market for medieval art undergone dramatic changes during your career?

WDW: When I started out at Cleveland in 1958 the prices for even outstanding medieval works were well below those for European old master paintings. Prices are still below those asked for paintings.

But the big change began when Sotheby's Peter Wilson landed the Robert von Hirsch collection from Basel and sold it in London in 1978. Wilson was a great self-publicist and built up an enormous interest in this collection, which included a series of major medieval objects. All the great museums in the West were interested, especially the German museums who were acting in concert with each other and acquired everything they wanted. The Met came away with empty hands, though they tried. But Cleveland did relatively well because the director, Sherman Lee, decided to concentrate his bids on important pieces the Germans would not be going after.

The sale witnessed new price levels paid for the finest medieval objects -- over $2 million. Prices for major objects are still high, especially when a foreign government or a foreign national museum is interested. For example, the Henry The Lion manuscript that came up at Sotheby's London in December 1983 and went for something like $11 million. When it was on view in NY, I went with Philippe [de Montebello] over to see it, but we quickly learned that the Germans were going to go all out for it so we didn't even approach the trustees over that one. The philosophy at the Met has been, if you're seriously interested in a piece you should be willing to go well over the estimate. Otherwise it's wasting the trustees' time, the director's time, everyone's time.

Of course, you can't always win. But I must say that except for isolated objects, I don't think the competition has really been with American museums, but rather with national museums abroad -- the British Museum, Louvre, Munich, and Berlin; earlier Karlsruhe and Stuttgart were buying. The only exception would be the Getty Museum in the manuscript field. The other American museums don't have the same kind of interest or funds.

Do American and European museums approach the market differently?

Historically, American museum people tend to seek out objects from a variety of dealers and auction houses, both major and minor, whereas abroad there was an inclination to wait and see if something is barred from export -- then they try to buy it even though before they may have had little or no interest in it. That has changed. The British have been going into the auction field, as demonstrated by their purchasing the Limoges chasse with the murder of Thomas Becket, for which they paid an enormous sum of money. And the Louvre also has been aggressive in the market in recent years.

There are perennial forecasts that the market is drying up. Are great objects still available?

If anything, chances to purchase examples of medieval art have increased over the last two decades. Who would have suspected the sale of the Henry the Lion Gospels or the Stannheim Missal, or the early ivories from the Martin le Roi collection? There always are going to be things coming out of the woodwork, and there will always be great works of art available for a price. But it varies from year to year. You can't fill gaps like a postage-stamp collector. You can't set out to collect, say, Romanesque sculpture this year or Gothic ivories in another. That would be ridiculous because they may not be available. But if anything intrinsically interesting and of high quality comes up, then you give it consideration. That's what we've done at the Met.

What would you say is the medieval market equivalent of a van Gogh?

An impeccable Romanesque or Gothic manuscript with many full-page miniatures and decoration throughout of the highest quality. Illuminated manuscripts have always been expensive, but for a number of years they've been out of sight price-wise for many institutions. The Getty Museum is pretty much the only one in this country that can buy major complete manuscripts.

Who are the tastemakers in the field of medieval art?

The dealers really have been among the great tastemakers. More often than not there are one or two dealers behind each of the major collectors. And American museum people are very much dependent on private dealers and the auction houses to bring to fore important medieval works that one might want to consider. People like Joseph Duveen, Paul Mallon, Francesco Romano, Jacques Seligmann, Georges Wildenstein, and more into our time, Herbert Bier, Blumka Galleries, Gustl Böhler, Joseph and Ernest Brummer, Elizabeth Drey, Cyril Humphries, John and Putsel Hunt, J.J. Klejman, Matthias Komor, Edward R. Lubin, Alain Moatti, Howard Rickets, Rosenberg & Stiebel, Gene Thaw, Michael Ward Gallery, Otto Wertheimer -- it was their sleuthing and salesmanship that brought major works to the attention of museums and collectors in this country. Of course there are private collectors of medieval art in England, France, Germany, Italy, and Switzerland, and I received hints from time to time who they were. But one rarely has the names of important private collectors abroad. The people at the auction houses and the private dealers are quite aware of them, but they rarely reveal their sources.

How did you land the most coveted US museum job in the field of medieval art?

When Philippe de Montebello called that summer after the von Hirsch sale he said, "Bill, Cleveland seems to have been able to get all these works from the von Hirsch collection and the Met wasn't successful getting anything." Then there was a long pause, and he said, "Bill, do you think you could live in New York?" After another long pause, I replied, "Philippe, that depends." After several discussions in New York, I asked him if he would visit me [EMPHASIS] on my home turf. Not knowing him very well, I wanted to see how he reacted to works of art, including some that I had acquired for Cleveland. Philippe said afterwards that he felt that he was being interviewed, which was true. The result was that eventually I was appointed head of both the medieval department and The Cloisters with the title of chairman.

Are the departments separate?

The Cloisters is what Hubert Landais calls a "museum of ambience," an attempt to utilise the original architectural elements to suggest, in a way, what a medieval monastery would be like. Downtown you have an encyclopedic collection which includes not only Western medieval art, but works from the Bronze Age, Early Christian, Byzantine, Migration periods and a presentation that is more conventional. Before I came to the Met the departments were far too separate, but gradually we became a rather cohesive entity, which was to the benefit of the museum. While the two departments have been separately funded, the collections have been regarded in aggregate and in a few instances, for the sake of clarity of presentation, objects have been moved from one site to the other. Yet it is well to remember that John D. Rockefeller, Jr. set up The Cloisters endowment for the enrichment of The Cloisters collection and for its operation independent of the needs downtown.

The installations I inherited at The Cloisters are excellent, but the medieval galleries downtown decidedly need a helping hand -- better lighting and more space. They're locked in with no room for expansion and no space for changing small exhibitions such as some of the other departments have. And of course there is the blessing of the annual anachronism of a Christmas tree-creche which takes up the entire center area of the largest gallery for medieval art and requires that major world-class objects be trundled away. The display of eighteenth-century Neapolitan creche figurines belongs in the galleries of later European art. In the medieval galleries this has nothing to do with the mission of a great public art museum and any attempted justification is specious.

What else needs changing?

First, the term "decorative arts" needs to be abandoned. It is a term I just abhor because I think it's demeaning in the medieval field in which objects of metalwork, ivory, illuminated manuscripts, and so on, are often the major arts. The hand-painted-picture people should be aware that major arts in the middle ages are not always fresco paintings on walls or tempera paintings on wood panels.

Secondly, among museum staffs there needs to be increased recognition of the intelligence of the museum-going public. One aspect of that is how we label works of art. They need to be succinct, but also informative, and not played down to a sixth-grade level.

One prominent medievalist tells me young curators today may not be getting the proper training. Do you share his concerns?

Well, academia has, I think, fallen down in relation to the potential of museums. It used to be at the Met that I would see local professors with their classes in the permanent-collection galleries frequently. That's rare now, which suggests to me that photographs and slides are of paramount importance to these people. But that's not to say that there aren't exceptions. Yet, the academic response to certain loan exhibitions is generally better, as in the instance of "The Glory of Byzantium." Also, I believe the so-called "new art history" needs to be approached with caution. I find it interesting to listen to or read some of the offerings, but I am suspect of a lot of it, partly because at times they seem to be blind to objects. Maybe that's being unfair, but I have observed the tendency to create theories and then bring in the works of art to prove the theories. Up until now I've had many friends in academia, but after you print this I may not have many!

What have been the most satisfying experiences in your career?

Expanding both Cleveland and the Met's collections, creating certain exhibitions, and also consolidating the two departments in New York. And I would say working for two great and very knowledgeable directors: Sherman Lee and Philippe de Montebello, both of whom began as curators, and also, with two groups of very dedicated and responsive trustees, both at Cleveland and New York.

Interview by Jason Edward Kaufman

Jason Edward Kaufman ©

[COMMENTS ON SELECTED OBJECTS IN EXHIBITION]

1. German lion aquamanile, Nuremberg, ca. 1400, latten allow, height: approx. 13 inches.

Several prominent dealers suggested that the Met might bid for this at Sotheby's London (July 7, 1994). In reply I stated that the Met had extremely rich holdings in this field and still another example was not of paramount interest. Actually I had asked to have the work sent to the Met for examination and possible discussion with staff. While obviously interested, Philippe said I was to return it quickly to Sotheby's. I suspected this was in feigned disinterest. Slides of the piece were presented to the Acquisitions Committee, and the Met prevailed at the London auction, landing the finest and most imposing Nuremberg lion aquamanile anywhere -- an example of what Philippe calls "building on strength."

2. Virgin & child attrib. to Nicolaus Gerhaert von Leiden, Vienna, ca. 1470, boxwood, height: approx. 13 inches.

This boxwood Virgin & Child is one of only eight works in wood attributed to the most influential sculptor of the mid to late fifteenth century, Nikolaus Gerhaert von Leiden. The Nazis confiscated it, but the former owner sold it right after the war, so it has a clear pedigree. Clarise de Rothschild, who had become a British citizen, went into the American sector in Austria and into the salt mines where some of her family objects were, and removed some of the objects she could carry, rather quickly. The piece wound up at Rosenberg & Stiebel who sold it for her in NY to a German dealer, Julius Böhler, for his family collection. It was lent to the Bayerisches Nationalmuseum, and in 1996 we bought it from a Böhler heir, Florien Eitle.

3. Leaf from a Spanish Beatus manuscript, Burgos, ca. 1180, tempera, gold & ink on parchment, approx. 18 x 12 inches.

In early 1991, Alain Moatti in Paris had a number of works from the Martin le Roi collection. We were most interested in fourteen pages from a Spanish Romanesque Beatus manuscript broken up in the 1870s (other parts are in Madrid and Gerona), but the price was out of sight. Philippe said we could consider buying them if the price would come down. I conveyed this to Moatti and nothing happened for a month or two. Meanwhile the Getty Museum made a counter-offer, lower than the asking price, with the stipulation that they be allowed to pay in several installments. The dealer called and said, "You can have the pages if you meet this new price and can pay completely within the calendar year." We split the purchase between The Cloisters Fund and the downtown endowment income, and now show the pages on rotation at The Cloisters and downtown.

4. French stained glass panel, Theodosius Arrives at Ephesus, from Rouen Cathedral, ca. 1200-1205, painted pot-metal glass, 25 x 28 inches.

Rarely does early thirteenth-century French stained glass such as this become available, and almost never with an established and distinguished provenance, in this case Rouen Cathedral. Most is still in the windows of the great cathedrals or permanently housed in public collections in Paris or London. We were allowed to acquire it from the Pitcairn Collection outside Philadelphia -- which owns other comparable pieces -- as compensation for the Met's expense in cataloguing and exhibiting a major part of the collection at The Cloisters in 1982.

5. Anglo Saxon brooch and pendants, Kent, early-7th-century, gold, silver, garnets, glass, & white agglomerate, diameters: 1 to 2 inches.

These [early-seventh-century Anglo Saxon pendants and a brooch from Kent] were offered to me by the London dealer Howard Rickets at a very reasonable price, but at a time when I had no money whatsoever. I gave up. Then suddenly they appeared at Michael Ward's gallery in New York, so I asked if I could have them on approval. I still didn't have any money, but I thought the director should see them before I sent them back. Philippe was bowled over by their quality and beauty. "You can't return them," he ordered. And he found the money.

6. German tapestry fragment of a fabulous beast, upper Rhineland, ca. 1410-30, wool on linen, approx. 29 x 34 inches.

This is a fragment of an early fifteenth-century Basel tapestry that hung in a domestic interior at frieze level. The fabulous beast, part horse and part lion, wears a collar hung with small bells attached to a leash held by a hand visible at the left, all that remains of a missing figure. We purchased it at Christie's London in 1990 where it had been placed by Peter Vischer-Milner-Gibson of Schloss Wildenstein (no connection with the dealer) in Canton Basel, in whose family it had been since the mid nineteenth century. We nearly lost it because of very strong interest in Europe.

7. St Anthony Abbot subduing a demon, attrib. to Niclaus of Haguenau, Upper Rhine valley, ca. 1500, walnut, height: approx 45 inches.

This walnut St Anthony is attributed to Niclaus of Haguenau, one of the foremost Rhenish sculptors working about 1500 in Strasbourg. The central group of sculptures in the Isenheim Altarpiece are attributed to him. It was offered to us by Gustl Böhler, initially through photographs. Unable to travel to Munich to see it, immediately I asked him to bring it to New York. I set it up in the center of the Gothic sculpture hall where its power was evident for all to see.

Jason Edward Kaufman

Jason Edward Kaufman ©