Editor’s Letter
Unlike, say, a computer game or the latest box set, art history cannot be completed. A perk of editing this magazine, one that I hope is shared with its readers, has always been the opportunity to indulge my own ignorance of all manner of artistic fields – and then for curiosity to ripen into sustained interest. Over the years, features on everything from Etruscan statuary to rococo silver, and from Qajar painting to Mesopotamian artefacts, have prompted me to take different itineraries around familiar museums, or have drawn me to collections and exhibitions I might otherwise not have prioritised. Sometimes the consequences have been unhealthy: an article that I wrote on the Museum of Wax Fruit in Turin has bequeathed to my inbox regular auction alerts that will lead to bruising invoices for years to come.
Of course, the history of art is not merely something to be collected by its fanatics, whether in the form of knowledge or physical objects, compelling though both endeavours may be. Like any aspect of the past, it is bound to remain incomplete because it exists not as a monument but as a process: perpetual only in its state of becoming, as it is looked at, discussed, displayed and written about afresh. Our cover this month shows an enigmatic painting by Robert Gribbroek, a member of the Transcendental Painting Group, a band of artists who set up shop in Taos, New Mexico, in the 1930s; Jonathan Griffin’s feature in this issue explores the version of abstraction championed by these painters, who were much influenced by esoteric thought, reminding us that our received vision of modern art is by no means the only way to see it (see Feature, pp. 60–65). (About Gribbroek himself little is known: during his lifetime, his 15 minutes of fame derived from winning a national competition – and a trip to Honolulu – for his barbeque recipe.)
The reassessment of art history has gathered pace in recent years, not least amid the uncertainties and agitations of the past 18 months. For me, this is an exciting moment, a time to see new things and engage with new ways of seeing – and in which art criticism can perhaps take on a rejuvenated role. Change and constancy need not be mutually exclusive, of course, and shrewd institutions will be able to build on their own open-minded traditions as they set out imaginative blueprints for the future. That certainly seems to be true for the Phillips Collection in Washington, D.C., where the founders’ emphasis on ‘many methods of seeing and painting’ has been replenished, as Eve M. Kahn writes in this issue, in the museum’s progressive approach to its centenary celebrations (see Feature, pp. 48–53).
Leading figures in the art world, and the businesses and institutions they steer, have frequently stated that the convulsions of the past two years provide opportunities to reconsider long-established structures and attitudes. With so many contradictions in play, however, not least as they try to follow the money and the mood music at the same time, both the museum sector and the art market have often been victims of their own rhetoric. It remains to be seen whether, for instance, the commercial juggernauts of the contemporary art world can sustain their commitment to lessening their carbon footprints while stomping to art fairs in Miami Beach or South Korea. It is hard to plant trees in private jets. On the sincerity of the art world, and whether it might benefit from a greater sense of humour, see Forum (pp. 22–23).
Anyway, reassessment is in the air. Which brings me to the coda. After eight years in the role, I have decided to step down as editor of Apollo. My successor will be appointed in due course, and will have an opportunity to set their own stamp on this marvellous magazine in the lead up to its centenary in 2025. For me, editing these pages has been a great artistic adventure – and one that I’ve been privileged to share with so many wonderful colleagues and contributors, and above all with you. A magazine is nothing without its readers. I’m looking forward to joining you next month.