Inflation, Increased Interest in Art Put Squeeze on Museum Program

Mrs. Pusey was anxious, when she arrived in Cambridge in the summer of 1953, to decorate her Quincy Street home with some original works of art. The Fogg Museum seemed the logical place to look, especially since it loans out a large number of originals. Of the paintings available, however, Mrs. Pusey could find only two to her liking and had to turn to the Boston Museum of Fine Arts for the rest.

This episode illustrates the essential nature of a problem that has grown acute for Fogg since World War II and for which there is no foreseeable solution. According to Museum director John P. Coolidge '35, the problem is this: although Fogg is doing as many things as it can with its material and staff, both of these are limited by the financial resources available to the Museum.

The post-war inflation has cut back the staff, for instance, from 96 persons in 1938 to approximately 60 today. The Fogg's slide collection has an amazing 100 percent circulation, and of the 500 reproductions available for the decoration of student rooms, all but 15 or 20 are loaned out annually.

Too Many Students

Professor James W. Fowle's new course in modern art has illustrated with its difficulties the situation as it directly affects the undergraduate. At the beginning of the term it was oversubscribed by 100 percent forcing Fowle to limit Fine Arts 75 to seniors only. Similar oversubscription is true to a lesser degree in all undergraduate courses, usually by as much as 25 percent. The popular Fine Arts 13 is faced every fall with students overflowing into the aisles, on folding chairs, and practically on the stage. The result is that the auditor is almost non-existent in Fine Arts.

The undergraduate oversubscription is a problem of space and staff, but it also reflects an undercurrent among the nation's cultured that means greater demands on an already overburdened Fogg. Part of the demand comes not from the United States but from abroad, largely as a consequence of the War and our new position vis-a-vis Europe, in culture as well as in finance.

Because of the War's destruction, for instance, the Fogg's library is far more important than it had been as a reference source, and is now markedly superior to any in Germany. The last decade has also witnessed an increased consciousness of American methods. For the first time the Museum is now training personnel for such countries as Egypt, Pakistan, Spain, and Holland. Brazil has also asked for advice on its state collection.

More interesting than the foreign demands, however, are the ones from this country that Coolidge traces to developments in the American cultural outlook. He notes a marked increase in interest for the visual arts and music, accompanied by a similar trend away from literature. It is no secret to today's undergraduate that he does not read as much or as widely as his father's generation did, nor that improved recording techniques have mirrored more music appreciation.

The latter interest is perhaps easily seen, but that in the visual arts may come as a slight surprise. Coolidge has two ideas about the situation. One is that art can appeal to people with little leisure because it has a faster impact than literature. The other is that the visual capacities of immigrants--the Greeks, the French, the Italians--are finally having an effect on our culture. This is because most Anglo-Saxons are less visual by nature than their contemporaries of European stock. The result in American terms, Coolidge says, is that "the average individual is far more cultured visually and musically, and far less cultured verbally than he was twenty years ago."

One manifestation of the visual arts appreciation has been the response to Fogg's exhibitions. One on French drawing attracted nearly 20,000 people in two weeks, and another on Ancient Art drew some 3,000 on the last Sunday of the exhibition. The Museum is therefore producing major shows like the recent Reubens exhibit, in which all but one or two of the Reubens drawings and oil sketches in the country were shown, with some degree of regularity, usually one a year.

If Fogg is unable to cater to the increased demands as well as it might wish, the root of the problem is of course financial. While the University is in a position to meet some of its inflationary expenses by receiving large grants from bodies like the Ford Foundation, the Fogg, as Coolidge says, still "depends to a fantastic degree on endowment and individual contributions." The Government, the foundations, and industry provide little support for the humanities, preferring to allocate their grants to universities, hospitals, and the sciences.

In one respect this benefits the humanities, for wealthy individuals would often rather give their support to organizations that have not had the benefit of strong support from the above groups.

This perhaps is one reason for the great upsurge in private donations to the Fogg. In the past seven years, individual contributions have risen some 75 percent. The figure is misleading, however, because it represents a rise over donations during and just after the War, when Fogg was of necessity quite inactive. Even so, there are fewer large contributors today than ever, probably because the Museum depends fundamentally on what Coolidge terms the "New York-Boston axis," an old part of the country where there are not many oil fortunes made overnight.

Endowment Buys Less

The endowment is a double problem, in the first place because it buys a great deal less than it did in 1938, and in the second because its small size makes the income quite erratic.

Fogg is essentially a private organization, hit hard like all of its kind by the inflation of the American economy, and torn by obligations on every side. Many of the obligations are long-term ones, with the result that the Museum's ability to meet them can be measured only imperfectly at best. Coolidge expresses his own working philosophy of the situation: "when understaffed, you do the things that produce the quickest results."

Because of the width and variety of Fogg's obligations, Coolidge says--using a clause he would love to find true--"if money were no issue, there would be a startling difference in the quality and quantity, but not the range" of the Museum's activities. He has some interesting theories on new activities but is afraid of overextending himself and his staff when there is so much that might be done to fulfill the demands of the divergent pulls on Fogg.

There are some areas where the Museum, whether for good or ill, has what Coolidge terms, "more unique responsibilities." One is illustrated by the fact that the Graduate School of Design trains a frighteningly large percentage, one-half, of all the professionals--the art historians, professors, and museum people--working in the field of Fine Arts in the United States. Several other graduate schools--New York University, for example--are currently matching Harvard in quality, but fall far below in quanity. Coolidge hopes that others will come into the field to lessen the University's burden. "There is nothing," he says, "that we would welcome more than a decrease in this responsibility."

Another of the Fogg's unique responsibilities is its collection of Oriental Art, by far the best in this country. There still is a great deal that might be done here, but once again the staff shortage is a serious handicap.

Amid the pressing obligations to the Graduate School, to the field of Oriental Art, to professionals in foreign countries, and to the Cambridge community itself, Fogg has a strong duty, perhaps not "unique," to the Harvard undergraduate. Coolidge would like nothing better than to be able to channel some of the effort spent on graduates to the undergraduates.

Located in the heart of the College, the Museum provides the space and facilities for most of its Fine Arts courses, sections as well as lectures, but this is the basic and not the sum of its undergraduate activities. For one item, Fogg lends reproductions to students. It is always expanding this service, now that it charges minimal rental fees, which are plowed back into the program. The number of reproductions has tripled in the past four or five years.

Fogg's other services for the undergraduate encompass such scope, and the museum is so understaffed, that "what is carried out varies tremendously with the demand and the need." What Coolidge has to do in most cases is leave the initiative up to the undergraduate himself, with a resulting shift in emphasis from year to year.

Fogg has thus spread itself as thin as it can. Further ideas have sometimes failed to materialize and others would result in certain overextension of the Museum's faculties. In the first category is the support of undergraduate painting. Coolidge has experimented with it from time to time but response has never justified the drain on space and staff.

In the latter category is Coolidge's inspiration for a complete photography department, with courses and exhibitions. No American university has so far touched the subject, although the artistic approach to photography would obviously create wide interest. But it is merely an idea now: Coolidge can only say he would like to see it done.

That it can only be an idea is perhaps indicative of the problems that Fogg has yet to solve: the staff limitations above all, and the financial troubles that lay behind them. The there are many obligations and the unique responsibilities.JOHN P. COOLIDGE '35