I apologize for these belated remarks in response to Christie's, and partially the Morgan, but I have been unable to log into my account for the last couple weeks! So now that I am able to log in again, I am delighted to share with you all the following thoughts:
Setting aside my delight at sustaining such a close proximity to the very important collection of documents and books that we were privileged to see a couple of Fridays ago, as well as my delight at seeing such an incredible cultural New York landmark for the first time, I left Christie’s feeling a mixed sense of pleasure at the treatment and honor given to these objects. In my mind, it is indisputable that they are important and need preserving. But what our heated discussion left me questioning was “why?” Not “why” as in “why is it important,” but “why” as in for what purpose, or to what ends, do we preserve things of such importance?
Certainly I think I’m on the side of our argument that believes in the worth of an object not only for its artistic and intellectual merit but also for its historical, cultural, social-status significance. If I had enough disposable income, I can very much see myself paying millions of dollars for a particular edition of a book, a rare signature, or a particularly important series of handwritten documents from a favorite author, completely regardless of context (especially something like that incredible journal entry that we discovered in the Morgan Library & Museum, written by Tennessee Williams regarding his mishaps with a whore). However, what I cannot wrap my head around is what to do with said supposed object once it is in my possession!
In the actual library part of the Morgan, I was looking at the displayed Gutenberg Bible when an old man came up beside me and started ranting on the paper making process in an effort to convey the importance of proper paper preservation. His charming temper seemed to be absolutely flaring the more he spoke, as we stood there admiring such valuable literature, at the prospect that the Morgan would allow so much light on the pages. He practically started cursing as his adorable English accent berated their leaving it open for public observation for such a grotesque length of time. And impressionable as I am when faced with such a passionate and endearing foreign accent, I agreed with him. How could anyone not do anything and everything in their power to ensure as long a survival as possible for great and valuable works?
But last week, I realized that, in fact, my lines are much more fuzzy than that. There was immeasurable ecstasy in the moment my finger got to touch Charles Dickens’ signature…pristine ink, golden edged paper, crackling pages, old smell… a beyond thrilling sensation. Was it for its sake, or was it because touching this book with his signature was rare and normally would have been forbidden? I think both on some level. This really put into perspective for me the question between institutions owning these pieces and private collectors owning these pieces. As our venerable professor pointed out at some point, when a public institution possesses these artifacts, they are then available for us to see. But this unfortunately sacrifices the proximity you get to the artifacts. So, either a lot of people get to be far away from it but see it, or a few people get to be really close to it and do more than see it if they so choose. Now if I haven’t already admitted this to the world, I share Professor Smith-Howard’s secret desire to be a librarian (either in this life or the next) but for the first time in my life, I found myself rebelling inside and wanting to scream, “seeing it, knowing it exists- that is not enough!” My fingers ached for more fodder for my adrenaline. Everything I saw- especially the playbill for The Christmas Carol which somewhere expressed “overwhelming public desire for Shakespeare” that was occurring during that time period- which so excited me that it is probably safer that I did not touch it. My whole life I have had a love affair with rare manuscripts as they stare up at me from behind their pristine glass cages, now suddenly I felt as though I could not settle for less than touching and experiencing all of these things viscerally.
And what’s more, suddenly I had found something better than either a library or a museum: Christie’s is free and it lets me play! Don’t misunderstand me, I worked once in the preservation department of a music library, so I completely understand the importance and meticulous process involved in preservation, care and repairs of valuable manuscripts and the like. On a very basic level, protection from snotty teenagers who would happily scribe profanity on the sanctified pages; and on a deeper, less-though-of level, even us idolizers/well-meaners could transfer dangerous oils or germs from our hands etc, on the delicate sheets of paper. I get it. However, is it worth not getting to hold, handle or utilize the piece the way you may want to, EVER? To tell you the truth, I was a little miffed at the Morgan Library librarian for not letting us touch the first folio we saw- I mean, she wasn’t even wearing gloves or doing anything too special to handle it.
From an exceptionally young age, I was allowed by my mother to use her valuable, fragile, antique tea cups whenever we were having tea (which was frequently). She raised me to believe that it was not worth having something in the cupboard just to gather dust; it is better for something to get broken having made wonderful memories with you, than never having been utilized at all. She never feared the teacups being broken; that kind of faith in my ability to handle them, as well as that kind of anti-materialism made a lasting impression on me. So now I am forced to wonder the same things about these million dollar books: if we’re not preserving and selling them to use them, what are we doing with them? Is it enough to simply look at them; is it worth the sacrifice of not ever actually experiencing them in the way they were made to be experienced?
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