FRIEDA SCHIFF WARBURG: THE FEMALE VOICE OF THE JEWISH MUSEUM

 Walk of Fame | Annabelle Kolomeisky 

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The Jewish Museum in New York City is one of the oldest institutions in the world dedicated to the display of Jewish culture with its founding in 1904. Forty years later, in 1944, Frieda Schiff Warburg donated her family residence at 1109 Fifth Avenue to house the museum and allow for its expansion from the library of the Jewish Theological Seminary. Although this donation may seem like a small gift to the museum world, it definitely was not! Freida’s contribution to the Jewish Museum and how she lived her life as a strong Jewish woman strongly reflects the role and operation of the Jewish Museum today.

 

Frieda Schiff Warburg, 1936 | Source

Frieda Schiff Warburg was born on February 3rd, 1876 to a family that was quite prominent in the Jewish elite of New York City. Outside of her family’s success, Frieda herself was no stranger to greatness and in 1938 she became the first woman on the Jewish Theological Seminary’s board of directors. Her relationship with religion was slightly different from that of her family when it came to her experience with Judaism. Frieda's father was a significant religious leader among the Jewish community of New York, she did not have the same connection to religious observance as her father and instead decided to invest herself in her philanthropic work. However, this did not mean she was not a proud Jewish woman! Frieda Schiff Warburg was very active among the Jewish community beyond her donation to the young Jewish Museum in New York. She supported important organizations throughout her life as a philanthropist such as the American Jewish Join Distribution Committee, the 

Women’s Division of the Federation of Jewish Philanthropies of New York, and the Jewish Welfare Board.

 

 

The Jewish Museum in New York City | Source

Frieda’s story of discovering her Jewish identity is a key part of what the Jewish Museum in New York strives towards today. The Jewish Museum is very focused on exploring the Jewish culture and identity from not only a religious perspective, but also an ethnic point of view, opening up space for a conversation about what it really means to be Jewish. For Frieda, although she was not a very observant Jew, she supported her cultural background through her donations to various Jewish charities while continuing to be an active member of the community.

This idea of Jewish culture and ethnicity on display in museums is not a new concept, but at the same time it is not very common. The Jewish Museum in New York is an amazing example of the intersection of Jewish culture and other important themes that appear in museums today such as social issues and engaging in activism. As illustrated by Frieda Schiff Warburg’s experience, the Jewish experience is not a straightforward concept but it encompasses multiple experiences, conversation, and community, and that is the importance and value of the Jewish Museum. The Jewish Museum helps harbor these experiences and is a safe space to hold conversations through exhibitions and displays that support the Jewish community and those interested in the question, “what does it mean to be Jewish?”

RUTH BADER GINSBURG: THE VOICE OF EQUALITY, REASON, AND CHANGE

Walk of Fame | Annabelle Kolomeisky 

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On September 18th, 2020, on Rosh Hashanah eve, the world lost one of America’s brightest voices of the feminist movement with the passing of Ruth Bader Ginsburg. Known by many by just her initials, RBG, was recognized for her many accomplishments throughout her celebrated legal career, but it was her strong advocacy for women’s rights and gender equality, as well as her fighting personality that gave her the nickname, Notorious RBG. 

Ruth Bader Ginsburg waving to a crowd | Source

Born on March 15th, 1933, Joan Ruth Bader Ginsburg was raised in Brooklyn, New York by a middle-class Jewish family. Ginsburg broke many boundaries as a woman in law by becoming the first woman to be hired with tenure by the Columbia University School of Law, as well as co-creating the Women’s Rights Project with the American Civil Liberties Union (ACLU), all while dealing with many medical issues both personally and within her family.

Ruth Bader Ginsburg was best known for the role she played in the Supreme Court as an Associate Justice. Ginsburg was appointed to the Supreme Court under President Bill Clinton in 1993 and remained a jurist until her passing in September 2020. Throughout her time in the Supreme Court, RBG played a key role in passing many landmark rulings such as United States v. Virginia, which allowed women to enter the Virginia Military Institute, as well as Ledbetter v Goodyear Tire & Rubber Co, a case addressing gender discrimination which is a cause that Ginsburg has been fighting for her whole professional career. Her commitment towards gender equality and civil rights earned her the American Bar Association’s Thurgood Marshall Award in 1999. 

Ruth Bader Ginsburg in her judicial robes | Source

In addition to being the 2nd woman to be appointed to the Supreme Court of the United States of America, Ruth Bader Ginsburg made history by becoming the first Jewish woman to enter the Supreme Court. Ginsburg was very proud of her Jewish heritage and often referred to her Jewish background when discussing her experience in academia and law. Studying law during the 1950’s, Ginsburg faced a lot of discrimination not only because she was a woman in a very male dominated field, but also as a Jew.

In her pursuit for justice, Ginsburg often referred to Jewish values and her roots for inspiration. This can be most clearly seen in her former office where the phrase from the Book of Deuteronomy was seen on the wall saying “Justice, justice you shall pursue.” As a person who was raised in the United States of America during the Holocaust, Ginsburg faced many issues of discrimination and intolerance. Ginsburg herself told people that her 

experiences helped her empathize with other minority groups. Ruth Bader Ginsburg had an incredible understanding of the Jewish values as she continued to apply the teachings in her work to help as many people as she could. 

Book titled Notorious RBG about Ruther Bader Ginsburg's life | Source

Inspired by the book by the same name, the exhibition, Notorious RBG: The Life and Times of Ruth Bader Ginsburg, discusses just that; the story of Ruth Bader Ginsburg’s life and her accomplishments in an interactive and fun way. This travelling exhibition looks at the historical cases in which Ginsburg played a key role and her important legal achievements, while also exploring the unique position she holds in pop culture as the Notorious RBG. Shown through archival video and photos along with artifacts, the exhibit displays not only Ginsburg’s astonishing and eventful life, but also the impact her work and ideas have had on society. The exhibition is currently showing in the United States, but the Illinois Holocaust Museum & Education Centre is hosting virtual tours that allow visitors to explore the exhibit from anywhere around the world. 

Regardless of her role as a Justice on the Supreme Court, Ruth Bader Ginsburg has been a role model for many girls from all around the world, as an example of a woman that can make a difference. Despite her remarkably average childhood, from a very average family, Ginsburg managed to make an extraordinary difference simply by using her voice to help society grow. To learn more about Ruth Bader Ginsburg, feel free to explore the articles written about her in the New York Times.

RISING TIDES, SWELLING COLLECTIONS

Museums on Earth | Jordan Fee

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For the past two weeks, an image has sprung up in my mind. I imagine the Royal Ontario Museum during a flood. Correction: I imagine the ROM during the flood, the one that is creeping up on us as I write this article. I imagine basements and storage rooms filled to the brim with water and objects, taxidermied animals being thrust forth from the depths of the museum, and spilling out into the main halls. Perhaps this would be another chance for the museum to discover yet another long-lost dinosaur skeleton.

Gordo, the Borasaurus discovered in 2007 at the ROM. Source.

This vision began after I started to look into the connections between waste, sustainability, climate change, and museums. A professor had assigned our class some readings on museum collections – one of them was a chapter from Active Collections, a book that explores how many museums are being “held hostage” by their massive, cumbersome collections. You can read the Active Collections manifesto on their website, and there you can also explore the different resources, case studies and “crazy ideas” that they are attempting to promote in the museological world.

"Stop...The Collections Avalanche!" Source.

The chapter that we read dealt mainly with the notion of assessing museum objects for their value to society, rather than simply acquiring them for the sake of doing so. This sentiment also is echoed in the Active Collections manifesto:

“There’s little point in preserving collections if they don’t actively support the mission. We believe collections must either advance the mission or they must go.”

In most cases, museums don’t even know what their storage rooms contain – the article about the ROM that I mentioned earlier shows this, but similar stories could probably be found at all levels of the museum world. The fact is that museums – and history museums, in particular – are becoming hoarder houses. In an article titled "Museums and Sustainability", published by the journal Cultural Trends in 2008, Nick Merriman notes that most museum professionals “were unwilling to embark on programmes of rationalization until they had greater knowledge of their collections through documentation initiatives.” However, to gain full knowledge of their collections would in most cases take years and years. In that time, the museum would most likely continue the annual 1-2% growth in their collections, thereby extending the improbability that such a task could ever be accomplished. When I mentioned this fact to my professor, he noted with a grin that these people are not museum professionals–instead, they are addicts.

What might this addiction say about the future of museums? To be perfectly honest, it saddens me that so little has been done to confront this issue. Clearly most museum professionals are aware of this problem. Many museums across the world acknowledge their lack of storage, and yet these same museums continue to house more and more objects. The fact is that sometime this century, many museums across the world will come face to face with the realities of climate change.

Hurricane Sandy spelled catastrophe for a number of New York City’s museums and galleries, and this storm was by no means an anomaly. Storms like this will continue to occur around the world, with increasing frequency, for the rest of our lives. We can develop new preservation techniques to combat them, but one day these disasters will overwhelm our abilities. Nature always does. Here, I think it is fitting to include a quote from a gallery worker from New York responding to the storm that swept up so many artworks:

     “We prepared, but the amount of water that came in was above all the highest estimates.”

At the risk of sounding melodramatic, I must say that this is only a tepid sign of what’s to come.

"Hurricane Sandy Flooding East Village 2012." Source.

Recently, in my free time, I have been reading A Song For a Blue Ocean by Carl Safina, which examines the destruction of tuna fisheries across the world. In this book, Safina provides details on a wide variety of conferences, meetings and debates between government officials, conservationists and recreational fishers about what should be done to halt the rapid decrease in tuna populations. In each and every case, absolutely nothing is achieved that might realistically slow or stay the decline. Quotas are cut in half, yet are quickly restored. The conversation exists, but action is never taken.

Just as fishing corporations and recreationalists have a historically unhealthy relationship with tuna,  museums have an unhealthy relationship with objects. As many articles on the subject of deaccessioning state, what museums are doing is the very antithesis of sustainability. Museums stack up objects in decrepit, unkempt storage rooms until one day they can hand it off. To who?

To us.

We inherit the world that generations before us have created. We also inherit the collections that these professionals have been collecting. What matters now is what we choose to do with them. Do we continue on this Sisyphisian quest towards creating comprehensive museums, or do we take real action to change our collecting practices? Ultimately, this is not simply a question of objects; it is a question of how we perceive material culture in a world affected by climate change. Collections have a massive carbon footprint, and while deaccessioning objects may only make a tiny, tiny dent in our flawed environmental practices, it would nevertheless serve as a statement of acceptance.

"Flooded Piazza San Marco in Venice." Source.

Acceptance of what, might you ask? Acceptance of the fact that collections are meaningless if they are hidden away. Acceptance of the fact that the world will wait no longer. A flood will one day take place in our backyard, and in various backyards across the world. Perhaps we should engage in some extreme measures of preventative conservation and begin a drastic program of deaccessioning. What good is an object if it sits, unseen by the public, in a poorly kept storage space? I can only hope that something will be done with these collections before a storm like Hurricane Sandy hits Toronto.

If you’d like to read more about which areas of the world are at risk of flooding, here is an insightful article from Der Speigel. While I understand that this is not necessarily the cheerful kind of content that people look for at this time of the year, I do find it necessary to improve our understanding of future implications for the museum world. Happy holidays, everyone! I'll see you all in the new year.

HISTORY THAT NEVER GOES STALE

A Muse Bouche | Alexandra Forand

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The Harbord Bakery and Calandria sits comfortably in the middle of Harbord St. and Major St. It is a medium sized building with large windows on the first floor. You may have seen it on your way to class, or even gone in. When a customer walks in, they will immediately smell the many different kinds of bread baking, see the variety of products the bakery sells, and hear the overwhelming chatter of the many patrons and staff. Usually, when I walk into the Harbord Bakery and Calandria I intend to drool over the beautifully displayed cakes; instead, I walk out with a history lesson. I do not know about you dear readers, but I seldom think of establishments such as restaurants, bakeries, and grocery stores as having rich histories let alone being a place of learning and preservation of history.

Harbord Bakery. Photograph courtesy of Alexandra Forand. 

In the case of the Harbord Bakery and Calandria, a narrative is told through the photographs and keepsakes that line the walls. A complete story of the establishment is told from black and white wedding photos, to colored photos taken in the bakery itself. Accompanying the photographs are 8 x 11 white pages with black text explaining the photographs, much like an information panel in a museum. Susie, one of the owners of the bakery tells me that the photographs are mainly pictures of her family, especially her mother and father. Susie’s parents Goldie and Albert Kosowers both left Poland for Canada in the late 1920s. Most of Goldie’s family remained in Poland and perished in the Holocaust. After meeting each other at the movie theatre Goldie worked at, Goldie and Albert married and established the Harbord Bakery in 1945. Together, the two expanded the bakery from simply baking delicious bread, to serving cakes, rolls, and other delicacies. In 1955, the Calandria portion of the bakery was built and served prepared food. Today, that area is an artesian shop still attached to the bakery.

Selection of artisan products the Harbord Bakery and Calandria serves. Photograph Courtesy of Alexandra Forand 

Not only is the evolution of the bakery captured in the significant objects that line the walls, but the experiences of those who immigrated during the early 20th century to Canada is on display as well. This is not an uncommon theme for museums to focus on. In fact, the Tenement Museum in New York City is exclusively dedicated to capturing what life was like in Lower East Side between the 19th to 21st century. The Tenement Museum is located at 97 Orchard St. and is comprised of seven restored apartments and a German beer Saloon. This museum relies on guided tours to lead visitors through the museum,  experience of what life was like, and how buildings can convey a unique history.

View of the bakery section. Photograph Courtesy of Alexandra Forand.

In the case of Harbord Bakery and Calandria, the history of the building is conveyed, and the stories of individuals' experiences during the Holocaust are revealed. It is rare to be able to experience such an intimate look at history while also picking up a loaf of whole wheat bread. Goldie and Albert operated the bakery, but their connection to it ran much deeper. They lived above the bakery in an apartment, raised their children in the bakery, and poured their spirit into the building. This passion for the bakery, the people it brings in, and the food that is prepared has been passed down to Susie, her siblings, and their children. The Harbord Bakery and Calandria is not just a bakery, but a place where one can acquire knowledge, become inspired, and yes, try some delicious food.

CAPTURING 'CHANGING NEW YORK': THE LIFE AND WORK OF BERENICE ABBOTT

WALK OF FAME

BY: KATIE METHOT

Two years ago I stumbled upon an exhibition of Berenice Abbott photographs at the Art Gallery of Ontario. Knowing nothing about this photographer, I wandered into the exhibition and was blown away by the work displayed. After visiting the exhibition I wanted to learn more about the life of the woman who had captured these beautiful images. What I ended up learning about Abbott was that she was a risk taker. She travelled, took chances, and followed her passions to achieve success as an artist. After growing up in Springfield, Ohio, Abbott moved to Greenwich Village in 1918 where she became involved with a group of political activists and artists. After nearly dying during the Spanish Flu pandemic, Abbott recovered from her illness and travelled to Europe.

Pike and Henry Streets, Manhattan. 1936 (Source: New York Public Library) 

In Paris, Abbott found a job as a darkroom assistant for none-other than the famed surrealist photographer, Man Ray. After realizing his assistant had real artistic talent, Man Ray encouraged Abbott to take her own photographs in his studio. This work culminated in her first solo exhibition and led to opening her own studio.

Jacob Heymann, Butcher Shop, New York City. 1938 (Source: MoMA)

After returning to New York City, Abbott rekindled her love of Manhattan and its boroughs. At this point, the work of Eugène Atget inspired her style of photography. Atget was a French photographer who had focused on capturing images of Paris before modernism changed the architectural landscape. Abbott had photographed Atget, shortly before he died. She later published posthumous books of his photographs, which he received much acclaim for. 

Penn Station, Interior, Manhattan. (Source: New York Public Library)

Similar to the documentary style of photography practiced by Atget, Abbott began wandering around New York and photographing life in the city. As signs of modernism took over, Abbott documented the changing commercial, social, and cultural facets of the city in her project "Changing New York". Her 'flâneur' style of photography continues to be compelling and offers a unique historical perspective on life in New York during the 1930s.

If you are interested in seeing some of Berenice Abbott's work, it is currently on display in the exhibition “Sign, Sign, Everywhere a Sign” at the Justina M. Barnicke Gallery.

“Sign, Sign Everywhere a Sign” is on display at both the Justina M. Barnicke Gallery and the University of Toronto Art Centre until March 7^th

"DEGENERATE ART" COMES TO NEW YORK CITY

MUSEUM MONDAYS

BY: BRITTNEY SPROULE

My post this fine Museum Monday is inspired by the social media buzz I have encountered this past week regarding an exciting new exhibition that opened March 13 at New York's Neue Galerie: Degenerate Art: The Attack on Modern Art in Nazi Germany, 1937. According to the Neue Galerie's website, "This will be the first major U.S. museum exhibition devoted to the infamous display of modern art by the Nazis since the 1991 presentation at the Los Angeles County Museum of Art."

Neue Galerie museum for Austrian and German art,
New York City, New York

Entartete Kunst, or, "Degenerate Art," was originally a 1937 propagandist exhibition organized by Adolf Ziegler (a German painter favoured by Hitler) and the Nazi party at the Archaeological Institute in Munich. This exhibition featured art which Hitler deemed "Jewish," "Bolshevist,"or just plain un-German, and thus unworthy of any sort of appreciation by the art world or the German public. This primarily referred to all modern and/or abstract art, which was blossoming in Germany at the time.

Any Expressionist, Impressionist, Surrealist, Dadaist works, along with anything related to or inspired by these genres and movements was not only considered degenerate, but was also confiscated by Hitler from public art institutions and usually sold off at auctions (with all proceeds of course going to the benefit of the Nazi party). Entartete Kunst would go on to become one of the most famous exhibitions in history, with a total of about 3 million visitors. It also traveled throughout Germany and Austria for four years after its opening.

Promotional poster for the Entartete Kunst exhibit, ca. 1937.

 

Exhibition promotional poster, ca. 1937.

The works and, consequently, the artists featured in the 1937 exhibit were meant to be laughed at, despised, ridiculed, and ultimately dismissed by the public. 112 artists - both Jewish and non-Jewish, even some who were members of the Nazi party themselves - had been singled out as "degenerate." Such artists included Kandinsky, Picasso, Chagall, Kokoschka, and many, many others. These artists were dismissed from their jobs, banned from exhibiting or selling their works, and often forbidden outright to produce art all together. Below are examples of works featured in the exhibition:

‘Poster with Self-Portrait for Der Sturm magazine’
 Oskar Kokoschk, 1910.

"Self Portrait as a Soldier," Ernst Kirchner, 1915.

"Eternal Wanderers," Lasar Segall, 1919.

To encourage an attitude of disgust toward these works from the public,  Entartete Kunst artworks were very strategically organized. Or perhaps, unorganized is a better way to put it. Paintings were hung crooked, without frames, upside down, sculptures were crammed into tight spaces, blocking walkways to create a claustrophobic feeling in the gallery, and there was graffiti plastered all over any exposed walls behind the artworks with ridiculing messages about the works. One element I find particularly interesting about this exhibit is that the prices the state museum paid for the degenerate artworks were also exhibited beside them - "The point being to demonstrate how the Jewish art world bilked German taxpayers at a time of widespread suffering."

Inside Entartete Kunst, 1937.

Check out this footage from the opening of Entartete Kunst in 1937 below (start at about 2:24 for inside the actual exhibit):

Entartete Kunst was also conveniently located across the street from Hitler's highly prized national Haus der Kunst ("House of Art"), which also opened in 1937. In this museum, Hitler displayed works which he selected as representative of "proper" German culture. This generally included Classical masterpieces highlighting perfection of the human form, works that glorified the military, as well as values such as obedience and loyalty.

Hitler favoured anything which portrayed man and nature exactly "as it was" in reality, or rather, how he believed it should be in an ideal reality. Of course, Hitler had a very specific reason for choosing the particular locations of the Haus der Kunst and the Entartete Kunst exhibit. He wanted to blatantly juxtapose the "good" and the "evil" of the art world so that there was no mistaking where peoples' artistic values -and thus, larger sociocultural values- should lie.

Haus der Kunst, Munich, ca. 1937.

Hitler admiring "proper" culturally German artworks
inside the Haus der Kunst, ca. 1937.

Curator Olaf Peters is the man in charge of the 2013 revisiting of Entartete Kunst in New York's Neue Galerie. The overarching idea Peters hopes to address with his Degenerate Art exhibition is what exactly was degenerate art? According to a recent article about the new exhibit, "Peters has reunited a bouquet of rarely seen painting and sculpture from the 1937 traveling exhibition, intermingling them with postcards, photos of the original installations, and films. He has also judiciously included the kind of kitsch that the Nazis favoured."

"The Four Elements" triptych, Adolf Ziegler, 1937.
A Nazi-approved artwork which Hitler displayed in Munich's Haus der Kunst.
Currently on display in the Neue Galerie's Degenerate Art exhibit.

 It will be interesting to see how people react to Peters' juxtaposition of Nazi ideal art with the Nazi degenerate art in the same exhibition. Perhaps a throw back to Hitler's juxtaposition of the national Haus der Kunst with the original Entartete Kunst exhibit? I think that by showing these two "types" of works together, Peters creates a really provoking context for interpretation.

Finally, I would just like to conclude by saying that I retrieved most of the background information regarding the original Entartete Kunst exhibition from the documentary below, created in 1993 by David Grubin. If you have the time, I highly recommend checking it out. Fascinating stuff.

One of the moments in the documentary I found most striking, and perhaps a little emotional, was during an interview with a German gentleman who was an art student in Munich in 1937. He describes how he and many of his colleagues rushed out to see Entartete Kunst, as they knew that this was likely the last time they would ever get to study and appreciate the modernist artworks they loved before the works were auctioned off or brutally destroyed by the Nazis. I wonder how many others of the exhibition's 3 million visitors had similar motivations?