Who owns the barnes foundation

Committed to racial equality and social justice, Dr. Barnes believed that education was the cornerstone of a truly democratic society. Barnes structured the workday to include seminars on art and philosophy. In , he established a scholarship program to support young Black artists, writers, and musicians who wanted to further their education. The beneficiaries included poet and essayist Gwendolyn Bennett; artist and professor Aaron Douglas; violinist David Auld for study at the Julliard school; and composer Frederick Work for training in Europe.

Barnes was deeply interested in African American culture. In addition to providing financial support, he promoted the value of Black art, music, and literature in his own writings and through programs at the Barnes, including an annual performance of African American spirituals by the Bordentown Glee Club.

He collected the paintings of Horace Pippin. In the s, Dr. Johnson, the scholar and activist, to promote awareness of the artistic value of African art.

The building is the first major addition to the Benjamin Franklin Parkway in more than 60 years. A foot abstract sculpture by the late Ellsworth Kelly, commissioned for the Barnes , stands by a reflecting pool near the entrance.

Tickets and more details. Skip to content Skip to footer. About the Barnes Foundation. Education Partnerships Through its K—12 education program, as well as outreach programs for specific grades within the School District of Philadelphia, the Barnes engages more than 10, students with the arts annually. The temporary position has since been eliminated. The foundation did not comment when asked about whether there were other bidders for the Merion lease.

Land in Lower Merion is some of the most valuable property in the Philadelphia area. Bitter dispute. He made clear that his institution was not an ordinary museum. It was intended to promote art education. He stipulated that, after he died, the collection should remain exactly as it was — nothing should be lent, sold or even moved on the walls.

I think people came to see that this was really about growing and extending Dr. Barnes' legacy in a meaningful way and it was about growing the impact of the progressive art education program that he held so dear," said Collins. In the past five years, the Barnes has vastly expanded its roster of programs and its cultural partnerships in a commitment to arts education and social service. Also, in the museum, a n "Art Team" of eight individuals with graduate degrees in art histories are now positioned in the galleries to answer questions, give pop-up talks and lead tours.

Barnes had two core commitments. One was to progressive education about and through the visual arts. The other one, that we're really spending a lot of time thinking about, is his commitment to diversity, inclusion and social justice," said Collins. Sometimes a place where time has stopped functions as a time machine. This was true of the Barnes in Merion. I do not think it is true of the new Barnes, at least not to the same degree. How could it be? It is a strange question to ask, given that in my view their building should never have been built in the first place.

Among supporters of the move, it has become customary to praise what is said to be the greatly improved lighting. Critics have commented that the paintings look brighter, as if they had been cleaned, although what has happened is that the curtained windows in Merion, necessary to keep out dangerous amounts of sunlight, have been replaced by new kinds of glass that let in the light without damaging the paintings.

On the day I was at the Barnes, the computerized system that controls the light was not working properly, and after seeing the Card Players in the new, supposedly improved strong light in the morning, I saw the painting under greatly reduced light in the afternoon. The painting looked much better in a somewhat darkened room. But more light is what people prefer today, and Williams and Tsien are nothing if not of the moment.

They are practitioners of a mildly quirky modernism, the fundamentally rectilinear forms accessorized with just enough luxurious eccentricities. They remind us that they, too, believe that less might be a bore, with their touches of dark wood and bronze and their suggestions of Shoji screens.

The reflecting pool that Williams and Tsien have introduced to soften the approach to the building is lovely to look at, although it also suggests a high-class mausoleum, not the most felicitous association. Inside, where a coffee bar, library, auditorium, and gift shop are arranged around a seating area near a glimpse of an inner garden, everything is beautifully, subtly detailed. Williams and Tsien speak a highly refined architectural language, but it is not the language of the Barnes Foundation, and no amount of good intentions can make it so.

Even some of their supporters might concede that the immediate approach to the galleries is not handled very well. As a gateway to the collection, Williams and Tsien have created an immense room, called the Light Court, which is totally out of keeping with the rest of the museum. I gather that when filled with a crowd, as it is on evenings when the Foundation is open late, the place really rocks.

But on the ordinary afternoon when I was there, the Light Court was a wasteland, empty save for some staff handing out headsets, a reminder to anybody who cared to notice that the new Barnes has not so easily swallowed the old. This is a space that Williams and Tsien could not finesse. Of course the great collection is still here. And when I had been in the Barnes for an hour or so and had begun to forget about Williams and Tsien and the legal wrangling, the paintings worked their magic.

Strangely enough, although the move to Philadelphia was meant to boost attendance, and the timed tickets are said to be sold out on some days, I found I was alone in many rooms while I was there, more alone than I recall being on my last visit to Merion.

What Barnes said would happen still happened. I saw things anew. And it was fascinating to realize that Barnes was still buying new Matisses around , daringly reduced canvases of two women in a room that have still not received their due in America. The irony that haunts the Barnes Foundation and the battles over its fate is that what Albert Barnes created was too great for the world to ignore and too idiosyncratic for the world to leave alone.

Nobody except a few true believers, probably members of the Friends of the Barnes, can deny that there was always something odd, maybe even crazy, about having so much great art hanging on the walls of a building on a suburban street in Merion, Pennsylvania. That Barnes insisted his Foundation remain the same forever—that there be no color reproductions, no loans, no changes in the hanging, no admission for the general public—was perhaps not the most sensible thing to do.