Many visitors to the Carnegie Museum of Natural History bolt right past the Hillman Hall of Minerals and Gems on their way to the dinosaurs, but it’s worth a stop. There are informative exhibits of various sorts, including a gallery of glow-in-the-dark minerals that will catch children’s attention. And then there’s the room full of properly categorized minerals. Wall mirrors make the systematic collection look practically infinite, but even without the mirrors it is an impressive collection. There is certainly no better place in Pittsburgh to learn to recognize various minerals, and examining them in three dimensions is much more educational than seeing pictures in a book.
It was one of the oddest things in the Carnegie, and few people ever made it that far after an afternoon of gawking at dinosaurs: a whole gallery on the third floor, the Wyckoff Hall of Arctic Life, dedicated to the “Polar World.” Now, after decades of informing visitors one or two at a time, the exhibit is finally being taken down. But it is being taken down slowly and carefully; and since the hall is also the only route in and out of the Alcoa Hall of American Indians—an exhibit even more invisible to most museum visitors, but one well worth your time—the few visitors who make it to the third floor have a chance to see what happens when a longstanding exhibit vanishes.
The space will be used for a greatly expanded Egyptian gallery, which will doubtless be more popular. But it will not be as odd. Every museum that can afford one has a good Egyptian gallery; few museums below the Arctic Circle had a gallery of Polar Life.
The vestibule at the original entrance to the Carnegie Institute building, seldom used now because visitors come in through the modernist Scaife Galleries addition. This picture was taken hand-held in dim light with the ultra-wide auxiliary camera on old Pa Pitt’s phone, so please forgive its obvious flaws.
A rainy November afternoon is the perfect time to spend an hour or two in the art museum. Here are a few of the things you might see if you visited the Carnegie right now.
Aurora Leigh, by John White Alexander, 1904: an imaginative portrait of the heroine of Elizabeth Barrett Browning’s verse novel. Alexander’s last and greatest work was the decoration of the Grand Staircase in the Carnegie, so you’ll have a chance to see those murals, too.
Sunrise Synchromy in Violet, by Stanton Macdonald-Wright, 1918.
Rue de L’Abreuvoir, by Maurice Utrillo, 1911.
Harbor Mole, by Lionel Feininger, 1923.
Rue de Beaujour, Pontoise, by Camille Pissarro, 1872.
“No woman has a right to draw like that,” said her friend Edgar Degas when he saw this painting—a compliment Mary Cassatt remembered for years. Mary Cassatt was born in 1844 in Allegheny (now the North Side of Pittsburgh) and grew up there. She studied art in Philadelphia for a while, but spent most of her life in France after that—although it is to the honor of Pittsburgh’s cultured citizens that, when she had to come back to America for a while, one of the first people to recognize Cassatt’s talent and give her a professional commission was Michael Domenec, the Roman Catholic bishop of Pittsburgh.
This painting is one of the treasures of the Carnegie Museum of Art, whose collection of Impressionists is worth traveling a long way to see.
The Hall of Architecture in the Carnegie gives us a whirlwind tour of Western architectural history from Egypt to the Renaissance, through the medium of life-size plaster casts. Above, the sphinx on the Votive Column of the Naxians at Delphi. It originally stood on a column more than thirty feet high, and the Carnegie’s cast is elevated to give viewers an approximation of the angle at which the sculpture was meant to be seen.
Ever since Lord Elgin bought the Parthenon sculptures and other bric-a-brac on eBay in the early 1800s, there have been debates about whether the Turks had any right to sell them, and whether they really ought to be where they are (in the British Museum), or whether they ought to be back in Athens. The arguments are still going on, and the United Nations has tried to sort out the dispute to no avail.
But here they are in Pittsburgh, and no one has to have a fight about it, because these are plaster casts of the originals. They are almost indistinguishable visually from the original art, and they can be experienced in three dimensions like the originals, and you don’t have to cross the Atlantic to see them.
In the late 1800s, the world’s great museums had the idea that it would be good for people to be able to experience the great sculpture and architecture of the world in three dimensions, just as if it were in their own city. The craft of making plaster casts had been brought to a peak of perfection, and museums eagerly bought up these casts and formed large collections.
Then, as the twentieth century rolled on, the collections became mortal embarrassments. Art was valuable only if it was original, and plaster casts are not original. Only three of the great plaster-cast collections survive, and this is one of them. It is the only one that was never kicked out of its original home.
Museum curators are beginning to wake up to the value of these collections. From a visual point of view, the experience of viewing them is almost exactly the same as the experience of viewing the originals. An art student can sketch them from different angles, can observe how the shadows fall across the drapery, can crane her neck to look at the bits that aren’t visible in photographs.
Artemis.
Father Pitt is sure that someone, somewhere, can find a reason for being angry about these plaster casts. But for most sane people, here are some of the remaining glories of classical art for you to enjoy guilt-free and without a passport.
Hestia, whose usual epithet in Hesiod was Please Do Not Touch.Comments
The titanic Carnegie Institute building was designed by Longfellow, Alden & Harlow, Andrew Carnegie’s favorite architects. Above: the Music Hall entrance. Below: the main building seen from the west, across Forbes Avenue.
