The Bulletin of the Cleveland Museum of Art for February 1974 [antikvár]

The Year in Review for 1973 Like many superlatives, the term "masterpiece" has been so overused in modern times as tolose its proper authority. When we are forced to invent words such as "super-colossal," we are following in the unfortunate path of a top-heavy army with its "grand field marshals" at the apex of an organizational pyramid grown out of all proportion to its purpose. Originally a masterpiece was the Meisterstück, the piece of work submitted by a craftsman as proof of his right to the title "master." The Oxford dictionary defines the modern meaning as: "a production surpassing in excellence all others by the same hand; also, a production of masterly skill; a consummate example." Obviously the masterpiece must be rare, if not unique, and we should use the term with caution and accuracy if it is to have any usefulness at all. Art museums search for masterpieces, although a collection of nothing but such works—assuming it to be possible or even conceivable—would ultimately be as boring as the eternal contemplation of perfection. As Mark Twain said, "Heaven for climate but Hell for company." Admittedly a collection of nothing but poor works would be even more boring, but accident usually prevents total mediocrity. The really great collections of the world are products of a more reasonable, more human viewpoint than the two extremes we have mentioned. They aim for excellence and have their share of masterpieces, but fundamentally they present a rich and varied diet —rewarding on many levels and corresponding to the almost infinitely complex interests and moods of the human beholder. The quiet clarity of a little landscape by Wouvermans answers an impulse less lofty but no less real or worthy than that satisfied only by the grandest of Rembrandts. Small pleasures are the vitally necessary complements to grand experiences, and the ideal museum collection recognizes this in showing works of quality in various kinds. We hope, and believe, that this most recent review of acquisitions fulfills the aims so briefly outlined here. One unqualified masterpiece was added to our Oriental collection in 1973—the famous eariy Cambodian Krishna Gomrdhma [182, opposite], formerly in the A. Stoclet Collection in Brussels. First published in 1924, this heroic-size stone figure has had an unparalleled history of admiration by writers on Oriental art, as well as by such Western critics as Roger Fry. Made early in the sixth century, before the Cambodian capital was moved to Koulen and then Angkor, it combines the monumental architectonic style of pre-Angkor sculpture with a sensuous and mysterious countenance that compels both reverence and delight. The modelling of the fine-grained. green-gray stone is unbelievably subtle. The unusual pose (repeated by only one other image in the museum at Phnom Penh) gave the master sculptor a problem worthy of his skill: the human figure in tension, but immovable—the classic combination of opposites reconciled in an unforgettable image. With our four other sculptures of the same period, the acquisition of the Krishna provides the keystone for a pre-Angkor collection unmatched in the Western world. Only slightly less significant is the life-sized stone Buddha [173] executed in the Mon-Dvaravati style of eariy Thailand and which dates from the seventh century. The figure is finished at the back (a most unusual feature), and the sculptor's close observation and sensitive rendering of the modelling of the clavicle, collarbones, and knees is rarely found in these usually stylized images. Important examples of Chinese art, save for ceramics at inflated prices, are seldom to be found today, with the notable exception of those marvelous treasures excavated by our Chinese colleagues. The early Ming paintings—two Imperial Buddhist hanging scrolls [200, 203] and a landscape hand-scroll [172], one of the rare works by Shih Jui—are excellent of their kind and hitherto unrepresented in our Chinese painting collection. But the T'ang Dynasty bronze mirror [185]— with its back lacquered and inlaid with a gold and silver design of birds, butterflies, and flowers—is a true treasure object from the golden age of Chinese decorative arts. It is certainly the best preserved and finest of its kind outside the Far East; the museum in Sian has two mirrors excavated in the former T'ang capital, while the Shoso-in and the Nezu Museum in Japan each possess one example of the type—the Shoso-in mirror being the largest and best preserved of all. In the field of Japanese art probably the two outstanding accessions are the large thirteenth-century wood sculpture of the Shinto deity Zao Gongen [79] and the pair of screens Winter Day—Summer Night [170] by Maruyama Okyo (1733-1795). The latter paintings with their contrasting subjects and brush methods are particularly satisfying. The winter scene is crisp and spare, the epitome of cold and brilliant handling; the summer scene is sultry, veiled, and conceals the art of the brush. If not the equal of Okyo's masterpieces which are National Treasures in Japan, they come close, and represent this fascinating Western-influenced artist in the Museum with a major and well-preserved efl'ort. Two beautiful and well-known pre-Columbian works from the Tishman Collection were purchased and add greatly to our representation of the classic Veracruz style. The Palma 31