The head art critic of the New York Times and former Dartmouth professor delivered an energetic commentary on the origin and destiny of the museum in American society.
Full of high-strung denunciations of museums around the world in typical art critic fashion, Kimmelman's comedic barrage of criticisms ultimately revealed something deeper about the philosophy of art in American society.
He kicked off the lecture with a virtual tour (via PowerPoint) of the Roman galleries at the Metropolitan Museum of Art in New York City. Following a witty note about one's ability to smell french fries wafting in from a nearby cafeteria among the two-millennia-old artifacts -- a deeper comment, it would become clear, on the commercialized and popularized nature of art interest in America -- Kimmelman turned to the first of his many points: "Who owns this culture, and what role do museums play in determining that?"
"Objects have many different lives," he said. "The ultimate issue is who gets to assign meaning."
"Place has so much connection with the nature of artwork," he argued, because "objects are not static." They have many meanings as they move from place to place to be viewed by different sets of people. A good museum will "destabilize the idea of a singular meaning," he said.
Returning to the french fry-infested halls of Roman art, he concluded, "The legacy of Rome belongs to many people who visit museums like The Met, not just Italy."
Kimmelman then moved into every art critic's favorite way to bash the American artistic scene: commercialization.
"There's a pressure on museums, as if attendance were a measure of success," he said. "Is it a matter of quantity versus quality? The quality of a museum is very hard to quantify."
"We become so obsessed with the cost of art, partly because that's how the news reports art. The easiest translation for art is money. The problem is not that commerce is part of the art world, but you can't equate commerce with art," he said. "Enlightenment and entertainment are not mutually exclusive."
Though not a visual artist himself, Kimmelman feels sympathy for up-and-coming professionals in today's cut-throat world.
"Young artists can be seduced into selling things before they mature," he said. They bring in royalties at first, but once their ideas lose popularity, the money stops flowing and the artist is left out on the street without training in any other field.
"So, money isn't a bad thing, but it can corrupt people's perception," Kimmelman said.
At the end of the talk, in an unexpected infliction of a somewhat preachy point, Kimmelman observed that the power of art lies in "the idea that time can dissolve in a brief moment of contact" with an inspiring piece.
But he quickly regained his down-to-earth view of today's art criticism scene. When asked what advice he has for young students who might want to become critics, Kimmelman declared, "There's got to be something else to do! I didn't want to be an art critic. I just fell into this job. Nor did I believe I had such compelling opinions that I had to impose them on the world."
The modern profession of art criticism, he explained, is not what it once was. There was a time when the critic was one of the first to see a new piece, and to introduce it to the world as an active participant in the creation process.
"Now the critic's role is very different," he said. Art is produced, displayed and made public all before critics get a crack at it. He complained that they are simply expected "to ratify and, in some ways, stand outside the process" of art production.
"The critic is the lapdog of the art world," he said.
Yet, this Pulitzer Prize finalist shows no signs of slowing down. He retired from his position as a Dartmouth professor in 2003 but continues to write for the New York Times.
"I liked the idea of thinking about art in public," he said of his choice of profession. "I add my voice to this conversation."
Kimmelman's energetic wit can't be confined to the office. Despite his critical streak and a penchant for issuing satirical salvos of high-strung denunciations, he enjoys going out among the "little Caesars" of the art scene to give lectures and swap opinions.
"Being a writer, you're isolated. You're sending things into a void," he said. "It's nice to see faces, get reactions and talk to people."
