Fallen Angel

Even more recently, in late May, the Carnegie Museum of Art in Pittsburgh had its own staffing issue when a guard they contracted slashed a $1.2 million Vija Celmins painting with his keys. According to police affidavits, he just "didn't like it." And at the Met, the recent flub isn't an isolated incident. In 2002, a pedestal broke and a 15th-century six-foot-sculpture of Adam toppled over. "Maybe the curator wants this 500-pound object on this thin little pedestal [for visual reasons], but that's when the preparators and the engineers step in," Podany says. "I think an awful lot can be prevented with proper planning."

While aging may make some antique works more fragile, modern art is proving vulnerable in its own way. It's often made with unfamiliar or ephemeral materials and created in a way that makes art difficult to transport. Conservators have hundreds of years of experience protecting oil paint on stretched canvas, for example, but are still figuring out how to keep acrylic on wood from degrading. Meanwhile, the visitors who patronize contemporary art museums sometimes don't know the rules when they step outside the traditional displays. "We talk about the peculiarities of modern art--which is very confusing to the public as to what they're allowed to touch," says Tom Learner, the head of contemporary art research at the Getty Conservation Institute. If you can grab of piece of candy from a Felix Gonzalez-Torres installation, why can't you smudge a fingerprint onto a Jeff Koons balloon sculpture? "I imagine places like the MoMA and Guggenheim reporting higher incidents of that kind of damage than the Met," he says. (The Museum of Modern Art declined to comment. But the Guggenheim is tackling the issue head-on: a current exhibit called "Imageless" explores the different ways a severely damaged Ad Reinhardt black painting could be repaired. The piece was donated to the museum by AXA Art Insurance in hopes the project would highlight the difficulty in restoring modern art, especially in making decisions about experimental techniques.)

The dangers may be worsened by the push for new, younger members (especially at contemporary museums), which often raise money and draw crowds at after-dark events that combine drinking, dancing and gallery hopping. At New York's Frick Collection and the Guggenheim, as well as Chicago's Museum of Contemporary Art, these "First Friday" events are popular among a twentysomething crowd in search of swanky fun. But too much alcohol can quickly turn from class to crash. When the Milwaukee Art Museum opened up its new Santiago Calatrava addition for a local radio station's "Martinifest"--which included unlimited cocktails for $30--guests were reported to have spilled food and drink (even vomit) around some of the museum's artwork. Two sculptures were removed for conservator review, including Gaston Lachaise's "Standing Woman," a tall bronze sculpture that four men reportedly climbed onto. At the time, rental income made up 6 percent of the annual budget. But after Martinifest, the museum had to revise its booking procedures.

Some risk always has to be accepted. "It's like looking at news coverage of plane crashes," says Podany. "The accidents, as tragic as they are, are statistically minimal. And there's enormous effort in preventing them from happening from the beginning. I think museums are like that." The only way to prevent any risk of damage would be to keep all art packed in storage and never displayed. That might protect the art, but at a devastating cost to the world's culture.

© 2008