Start with the paintings, which vibrated with an energy that seemed to radiate outside their own dimensions: Bold primary colors slashed across scavenged cardboard; stark black buildings floating in columns of yellow light; human figures with clenched teeth and waving arms, crowned with slashing white lines or boxlike hats.
Twenty-five of them, collectively titled “Heroes & Monsters.” Never before seen. Signed with the name of one of the most meteoric figures to blaze across the American art world in the last century: Jean-Michel Basquiat. Less than 30 years after his untimely death at the age of 28, a single painting by Basquiat sold in 2017 for $110.5 million, the record for an American artist at auction.
How incredibly exciting, for the Orlando Museum of Art to be the first to exhibit these works.
And how gut-wrenching, how humiliating, how heartbreaking to watch the entire thing come apart. To hear the museum’s then-director insist that there was “absolutely no doubt” the works were genuine just a few months before the FBI came to take them away — and to learn that there was doubt, considerable doubt, before that happened.
The affront to the museum’s volunteers, its donors and its board members is undeniable and continuing. The damage to the museum’s reputation can’t yet be measured.
Which means that it can, in part, be managed. That there is a road back, one that could lead the museum to an even stronger, more engaged role in this community and kick off its second century with a burst of renewed energy and purpose.
That must start with a resolve to be as open and transparent as possible — as quickly as possible — with the series of events that led up to this exhibit, and what followed the FBI’s June raid.
In a meeting last week with the Sentinel’s editorial board, the museum’s leadership talked about that goal of transparency. They’re cautious, and it’s understandable: There’s no handbook titled “So the FBI Art Crimes Unit Seized Your Modern Art.” But we also believe — after the recent round of public comment and speculation — that they understand one fundamental truth: In the lack of reliable, official comment museum officials will see speculation and anger (some of it understandable, some not) rushing in to fill the void. That’s the real impact of what one former board member has dubbed the “Basquiat fiasco.”
They’re already working to address some of that. Mark Elliott, who is now chairman of the museum’s board of trustees, also co-chairs the task force that is examining the Basquiat exhibit and any others planned by former director and CEO Aaron De Groft. ”We don’t want to be crossways with the FBI and with what they’re doing,” he says — but adds that they’ve already uncovered other questionable moves, including a decision to display a Degas statue without going through the museum’s procedures.
It’s understandable, also, that Elliott doesn’t want to throw loyal museum employees (many of whom were probably under pressure to abandon policy in other ways) under the bus. The problem with that: Delaying an official explanation denies those employees a justifiable defense.
Here are the big questions that are circulating:
Why didn’t trustees know that this particular collection was already under a cloud? Many of them said they found out from a New York Times article published Feb. 16, alluding to doubts that had been circulating for some time.
What happened after that article appeared, and who was making the big decisions in response to a growing scandal?
What’s the story behind the rapid departure of Luder Whitlock, who served just six weeks as interim director before his surprise resignation in late August?
There are other questions, of course, but these are the ones that have the most significance to the greater Orlando community, including people who have supported, loved and worked for the museum for decades. Many of them will be included in a report detailing events surrounding the Basquiat exhibit, which should be final by the end of this month. Elliott says a redacted version of that work will be made public within a few weeks of its completion, but we strongly urge the museum to release the report in full, removing only those passages that would compromise the ongoing FBI investigation.
We will say this: We like Elliott’s plans for moving forward. The board has already undertaken a review of its bylaws (and engendered some hard feelings when it adopted term limits for board members, which cost some of the museum’s trustees their seats fairly abruptly). Strong guidelines that dictate accountability would constitute one clear victory for the museum.
We also appreciate the resolve of Elliott and task force co-chair Nancy Wolf, who say they want a rapid assessment of the museum’s role in Central Florida that includes a list of additional needs it could be meeting, and sectors of the community where the museum currently plays little role beyond a school field trip destination.
They think that should happen before the museum picks its next permanent staff director. That makes a lot of sense — and community groups should take them up on it.
Finally, it came through loud and clear that Elliott and Wolf both believe the museum — and particularly its trustees — should be held accountable when things go wrong. And that they understand why so many people are anxious to hear that story.
The sooner they tell it, the better the chances that this story becomes one more interesting tale in the museum’s long history — and the sooner the museum can get back to its key mission: Bringing this community exhibitions that stun us, seduce us and even sometimes offend us — for all the right reasons.
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