‘Permanent Collection’ paints picture of the art world’s racial woes
Every time you walk into a museum, someone has made a lot of decisions about what constitutes art and what should be seen. Thomas Gibbons’ “Permanent Collection,” which runs through March 5 at Main Street Theater, offers a riveting look at the conflicts at a private museum originally financed by an eccentric benefactor who had a penchant for French impressionists as well as African art.
The Morris Foundation’s Alfred Morris (a witty and memorable David Harlan) is based on the real-life Alfred C. Barnes, who had a collection of almost 400 European paintings, ranging from Renoir to Picasso. “Permanent Collection” explores the controversies of race and racial equity that were played out in attempts to preserve the “permanent” collection while changes were being made to include more African art, which Barnes himself collected and admired. There were charges of racism, public conflicts and a long, drawn out lawsuit.
Barnes also wanted everything to remain “exactly as it was,” with the impressionist and modern paintings surrounded by medieval and African artifacts and modern furniture. He was a man who knew what he wanted, and he left his foundation to be run by a traditionally Black college.Barnes wanted the works to be “educational,” and he sure got his wish, through the tight and incisive writing of Gibbons and the superlative acting of this entire cast.
With a stunning set by Liz Freese and lighting by John Smetak, we see priceless iconic paintings hanging in the theater-in-the-round configuration, along with striking African sculptures displayed. The audience feels like it’s in the museum.
Gibbons doesn’t mince or waste words. Sterling North (a terrific Steven J. Scott) begins the play with a monologue about “the talk” — the advice Black parents give their kids if they are stopped by a cop. He throws out the idea that “feeling is stronger than intellect” — one of the overarching themes of the play.
Even though North has “arrived” with his fancy car, impeccable clothes and business acumen, he still deals with racism as an African American professional man. He is the new director at the foundation and wants to make the collection more racially inclusive.
He will duke it out with Paul Barrow, the director of education, who is perfectly played by Dwight Clark. Barrow wants to honor the foundation’s original mission, but he can admit its limitations. North may claim that “I know my way around” and get around the dictates of the foundation for good reasons, Barrow doesn’t think the past should be dismissed. He says Dr. Morris could be “a bastard,” but about art, “he was right” and “had a vision.” These two will argue about how to handle the art — both displayed and “in storage.”
Defying the specific wishes of the benefactor is difficult terrain. It is tricky business, made more so by the intrusion of journalist Gillian Crane (a wonderful Shannon Emerick), who is a master at getting these people to talk, thus fueling the flames of controversy. Charges of racism transform into resignations, protests, lawsuits. Gibbons does a masterful job of revealing the hypocrisies of the art world from multiple perspectives.
Seldom do you see a play in which one second you empathize with one character, only to be challenged in your thinking by the utterances of another. It is stellar theater. There are reminders of the more telling elements of the art world: The final destination of most exhibits is “the gift shop,” and assistants like Kanika Weaver (a convincing Krystal Uchem) often know little about art.
Maybe “silence is never a morally persuasive tactic,” and maybe “you can’t be on both sides” regarding art. But Gibbons doesn’t just demonize characters, he humanizes them, dramatizing their arguments in the midst of interesting twists. “Permanent Collection” will make you think about the way in art that maybe “some things are better than others,” but also, one way “is not the only way of seeing.” The people in charge of these decisions make the difference in what we all see.