On Visiting Houston

The docent told me that the Museum of Fine Arts Houston (MFAH) has recently become the 16th largest museum in the country. I assume the rankings are for art museums and are based on size of collection, but she wasn’t sure. MFAH’s literature speaks of 60,000 objects, whereas its catalogue from 2000 mentions 40,000. Size and growth are, of course, particularly Texan concerns, and both are in abundant evidence at MFAH. At first, I was slightly overwhelmed by all the paintings and ethnographic gold on display (decorative arts are housed in two ancillary buildings that I didn’t have time to visit). But by the end of the day, when I tried to list my favorite objects, I was left with the impression of quantity, not quality.
Houston has great pockets of oil wealth, to be sure. I don’t know the backgrounds of the major MFAH donors; but one has to be impressed when there is one couple, John and Audrey Jones Beck, who have donated 70 Impressionist and Post-Impressionist paintings, works by van Gogh, Manet, Cezanne, Cassatt, Modigliani, Degas, Bonnard, Caillebotte, Kandinsky, Braque, etc.– one gift that rivals or surpasses the MIA’s entire collection in this field.
The fact that MFAH has increased its holdings by 50% over the last decade points out a weakness, though, as well as a strength. Simply put, most of the great works of art, especially in the old masters field, are already taken. If you want a great Poussin or a great Rembrandt for your collection, no matter how big your endowment, you are too late. Thus, while MFAH has paintings by many artists I would like to see represented at the MIA – people like Pietro Longhi, Bernardo Strozzi, Van der Heyden and Willem Claesz Heda – there are few standout works that merit inclusion in a textbook, or even demand a postcard purchase.
I got the feeling, without any personal experience, that you could go to Old Master auctions for five years and buy much of the material on display here, especially as there was a large amount of Italian Baroque and other “out-of-fashion” work. One piece I did envy was the Orazio Gentileschi’s Stigmatization of St. Francis, a painting that hung at the MIA for three months while we considered purchasing it. I never discovered why it was returned to the dealer without further discussion by the Accessions Committee, but it looks great in Houston. (Granted, it wasn’t purchased by the MFAH, but by the Sarah Campbell Blaffer Foundation, whose mission is educational, so perhaps a different standard applied.)
The incontrovertibly world-class collection at MFAH is its gold, all donated by Alfred Glassell. African gold (Akan), Indonesian gold (from islands I’ve never heard of), and South American gold, from cultures I’ve never heard of (Huari, Tiwanaku). Classical Rome is represented by impressive statues and ornaments. The biggest weakness is the Asian collection, merely token at best.
The one “essential” collection in Houston is more likely the Surrealist holdings at the Menil, dotted with major, recognizable pieces by Chirico, Magritte, Ernst, Lam, Tanguy – but surprisingly, no Dali. The question that came to mind, however, is how well Surrealism will hold up 50 years from now. Its power to shock has, of course, long since dissipated. Will this school seem a game, or a gimmick? Certainly, I have that problem already with Max Ernst, who is clever, but whose art I don’t particularly enjoy looking at.
The other holdings of the Menil were a surprise: all areas of antiquity were well represented, many better than at the MFAH (e.g., Greek geometric horses, Cycladic figures, Coptic cloth, Benin bronze, Russian icons). The African collection was extensive. I am still in no position to evaluate African art, but the fact that the Menils collected a relatively long time ago gives them points for “authenticity” in many of their pieces, although the nkisi nkondi has so many nails it must’ve been doctored for export. Ciwara (chi wara), which an MFAH label called “among the best known and most desired works of African art,” are especially well represented at the Menil, by abstract and powerfully realistic examples.
Another wing approximates the Walker – currently featuring galleries with work by Gober, Newman, Johns, Rauschenberg, Warhol, etc., and we just missed a show of Maurizio Cattelan (just as I was too early for a show of Prendergast in Italy at the MFAH). More unusual is the collection of outbuildings. Most lovely is the Cy Twombly Gallery, also designed by Renzo Piano, which gives Twombly’s large canvases plenty of room to breathe and relate to each other. The Rothko Chapel, I am afraid, was a disappointment. I like Rothko, and his works in the main gallery were representative and fine. But eight large canvases, some with multiple parts, all in black with dark purple borders, was not what I call uplifting. Lighting was another problem. Only two of the walls were lit when we entered in late afternoon, accentuating the gloom. More lights would be turned on later, I was told.
Perhaps most intriguing of all was the neighborhood. The houses on adjoining streets were done in different styles, but all were painted in Menil gray, making the environment, with majestic live oaks and open grassy spaces, a breathing artwork itself. Piano’s building was stunningly barnlike, a letdown at first in its simplicity. But it fulfilled the Menils’ stated request for a structure that appeared small on the outside but spacious inside. In fact, once inside, it seemed to stretch on forever.

In addition to art, there were memorable birding moments as we circled Houston by car, east to south to west to north, following The Great Texas Coastal Birding Trail. The highlight, by far, was San Luis Pass, under the toll bridge leaving the western end of Galveston Island. We walked out in the chill and mist, over wet sand and through scrub, and encountered hundreds of American Avocets, together with slightly smaller flocks of Oystercatchers and Skimmers – fabulous birds that I’m normally delighted to see one of. A Reddish Egret and Tricolored Heron lifted in the air and a perfect Piping Plover trundled toward us, following a Snowy Plover, giving us all the identification marks we could need. All that was missing was the Black-necked Stilt, which we picked up at our next stop, Brazoria NWR. Also remarkable were the Roseate Spoonbills and White Ibis that congregated, along with Snowy Egrets, in the wet fields. The day before we pulled off the road to witness a mass of Forster’s Terns hovering above an inlet, and were also treated to White and Brown Pelicans and a White-Tailed Kite.
Our third day, spent in Katy Prairie, was relatively lackluster except for a wonderful view of a White-Tailed Hawk. Saturday we rose early to visit W.G.Jones State Forest on our way to the airport, and the endangered Red-Cockaded Woodpeckers performed exactly as promised. A beautiful Pine Warbler was in full plumage and full voice, a final contrast to the Spoonbills we had seen chorusing at Brazoria. In all, we tallied 90 species, which, on top of the 30 species I counted in Hebronville the week before (many overlapping, to be sure) gave me a good picture of avian life in East and South Texas.