
Photo by Timothy Greenfield-Sanders
John Elderfield is stepping down from his position as chief curator, department of painting and sculpture, at MoMA.
I’m hoping to do the same with de Kooning. He’s someone whose work I’ve loved forever. It was actually one of the things that brought me to the U.S. in the first place.
What about smaller-scale exhibitions?
There are the three shows I did in a row last year. First was “Manet and the Execution of Maximilian.” MoMA starts with Cezanne in 1885, and while it’s a convenient thing to say that modern art begins there, we know it doesn’t really. I think that the museum should do shows that deal with its “pre-history.” Second was the Armando Reverón show, where we were looking outside the normal canon. It’s important to show artists who may not be a Mondrian or a Miro, but who are really substantial people. Then there was Martin Puryear, a contemporary artist who is also somewhat outside the canon.
I like these shows not only for themselves, but for what they are examples of. I didn’t set out to do them as a three-part manifesto, but once I’d committed to them I realized that was what I’d done.
Who have been some of the artists that you’ve most enjoyed meeting during your time at MoMA?
When I first came to the United States I wrote a piece on Richard Diebenkorn. It was published in 1971, and to my amazement I got a letter from him saying, “I read your piece. It would be nice to have a drink if you’re ever in Southern California.” Well, I had a drink with him at least once a year between 1971 and 1993. It was a great friendship.
More recently, there’s Jasper [Johns]. I wouldn’t claim to be a close friend, and you can never get any information out of him, but he is an amazing person.
A final similar question: What would you say have been the most important acquisitions that you’ve been involved in during your years at MoMA?
That’s hard. In my first five years here I was a junior curator and didn’t have a lot to do with acquisitions. Then, when I was in the drawings department, there was a very geometric Matisse drawing from the ’30s [Reclining Nude (1938)] which I had a really hard time persuading them to buy because they said, “It doesn’t look like a Matisse.” It was eventually bought in 1985 for $35,000. It’s now worth around $2 or $3 million. Then there was a hiatus when I wasn’t in the collecting department, although I did propose some things and had them accepted: for example, a Braque studio painting [Studio V (1949–50)] that I think is really extraordinary. The last five years have been pretty hectic. There’s been Jasper Johns’s Diver (196263), Rauschenberg’s Rebus (1955), and the Matisse Plum Blossoms, Ochre Background (1948).
Even with the market soaring, it would seem that MoMA is still able to collect enthusiastically.
This is one of the extraordinary things about MoMA. I don’t know of anywhere else that has the same level of financial support for acquisitions. But it’s not always straightforward, in that certain things are easy to acquire because there’s a community of taste for them, while others are really hard to get. It isn’t a matter of the relative importance of the art; it’s just a matter of taste, really. In the last three years, we’ve acquired—either totally or as promised gifts—six Jasper Johns paintings. It’s because Jasper’s work has a kind of ethos here, because of the early purchases that the museum made. On the other hand, trying to get support for some other artists leaves you feeling like Sisyphus. These are the things that drive us crazy: How can we find the money to do the things that we want to do? Sometimes it works and sometimes it doesn’t.