Philippe de Montebello

Philippe de Montebello has been director of the Metropolitan Museum of Art for thirty years and he is retiring at the end of 2008. Although we have lived in New York for only a bit over three years, it is hard to fathom the Met without him. IMHO he has created a 21st century museum, a place of light, open space and splendid exhibition halls, and at the same time enhanced immeasurably the collections that fill those spaces. The Met is a world museum. It draws from all the arts, from all the centuries, and from all continents -- OK, maybe not Antarctica. To visit there is to be inspired and close to awed by the endless ways man can pursue and has pursued beauty in art, even when the forms of that art depict anything but beauty.

de Montebello could not have done this alone, of course, as he freely acknowledges. So in a wonderful symbiosis, the Met is now opening an exhibition that his curators wished to do -- a collection of some of the finest works -- selected by the curators -- the Met has added to its collections in de Montebello's thirty years. That the curators wanted to honor de Montebello with this exhibition underscores what, to this total outsider's eye, seems to be his greatest strength -- while a man of strong opinions and tastes, he nonetheless put great faith in his curators and their estimation of valuable works the Met should pursue. In other words, he surrounded himself with very talented people and let that talent run to its full extent. My personal definition of an outstanding leader.

So last night we dressed up and went to the Sustaining Members preview reception of the exhibition. I write this before reading today's NYT review, but it seems safe to say that this is the one exhibition not to be missed in New York this year. The extent of its amazing range is evident from the anteroom, where Lucien Freud's in-your-face Naked Man Back View is kitty-corner to a 2nd century Roman rose-colored carved support for a water basin. It includes, three of my personal faves (they will change the next time I am there), Andres Segovia's performance guitar, an inch-high gold pointer, and a carved gold-handled knife from Turkey.

What takes the exhibit to an unprecedented level, however, is the accompanying audio tour. Always helpful for any exhibition, in this one, the audio guide has de Montebello discussing with his curators how a number of the works were acquired. None of this is written on the exhibition notes next to each displayed piece. In the discussions, de Montebello evinces no need to seem the all-knowing expert. The pointer, when first brought to him by the area curator, he misidentifies as a thimble. He freely admits to biases, not being fond of Tibetan paintings for one. But in the one he approved for Met purchase that is in the show he -- right on the tape -- asks the curator "and what do those tongues at the feet of some of the characters mean?" And she replies, "well, uh, those are actually lotus blossoms." Or, the curator of American textiles on her first meeting with the director and wondering what was in store for her when he asked wearily, "are there any American textiles except quilts?"

I rarely get carried away -- but today I'm carried away, by the man as a leader and visionary and by this extraordinary exhibition that makes those qualities so very, very clear.