Good evening.
Welcome to the Museum.
I'm Peter Barnet,
Michel David-Weill Curator in Charge
of the Department of Medieval Art and The Cloisters.
Some of you will probably remember
that my colleagues and I spoke last fall
about medieval art here in the Museum on Fifth Avenue.
I pointed out then
that the most distinctive aspect of our department
is in its name,
the Department of Medieval Art and The Cloisters.
Our department is unique
in having two distinct collections
and sets of galleries.
You see on the screen a view
of the Medieval Sculpture Hall, on your left,
and our branch museum, The Cloisters, on you right.
This evening, I'm here with another group of colleagues,
and we'll be talking about the history
and collections of The Cloisters,
The Met's only branch museum.
I'd like to introduce all of our speakers now,
and then I'll return to the podium as the final speaker
to bring the history up to the present day.
First, you'll hear from Nancy Wu,
an architectural historian and head of education programs
at The Cloisters.
And I also would like to point out
that Nancy is my co-author
on this book about the history and collections
of The Cloisters.
Then Deirdre Larkin, horticulturist,
will discuss The Cloisters' Gardens
and the central role that they've played in the museum
since it opened in 1938.
Curator Timothy Husband will then speak
about one of the great treasures of The Cloisters collection,
the Belles Heures of the duc de Berry,
about which he has just completed a book,
which will accompany an exhibition
to be seen at the Getty Museum next fall
and then here at the Met the following year.
So please welcome Nancy Wu,
and then Deirdre Larkin and Timothy Husband.
(applause)
In the May 21, 1938, issue of "The New Yorker,"
the architecture critic Lewis Mumford
described the newly opened Cloisters Museum
in a review titled, "Pax in Urbe,"
or "Peace in a City,"
praising "the clean, spacious sense"
which gave The Cloisters
a "solemn, uncluttered appearance."
Mumford considered The Cloisters
"one of the most thoughtfully studied
and ably executed monuments we have seen in a long time."
Since then, generations of visitors to The Cloisters
have shared Mumford's admiration for the museum,
including Holland Cotter,
who wrote in "The New York Times" last December
how he remembered The Cloisters
as "one of the most romantic places" he had ever seen.
Indeed, the seamless incorporation
of medieval architectural and sculptural fragments,
such as windows and doorways,
into the fabric of a 20th-century structure
is nothing short of marvelous.
Today, I will briefly trace the history of The Cloisters,
observe principal elements of its design,
and survey a handful of Romanesque monuments
which have contributed to the creation
of its magical atmosphere.
The Cloisters could not have been realized
without a felicitous constellation
of collector-philanthropists, architects, and curators.
The bulk of the collection was formed
by the sculptor George Grey Barnard
during his sojourns in France from the late 19th century
through the eve of the First World War.
These fragments were once part
of monumental architectural complexes,
but suffered damages
from the political and religious upheavals of history,
especially of the French Revolution.
In the case of the cloister of Saint-Guilhem-les-Desert
a Benedictine monastery not far from Montpellier
in southern France,
most of its columns and capitals had been removed
following the Revolution
and used as building material that can still be seen today
throughout the village.
Sometime in the 19th century,
a group of over 140 Saint-Guilhem fragments
landed in the garden of a local justice of the peace.
The were sold in 1907 by the last heir of the family
and eventually found their way into the Barnard collection.
When Barnard returned to New York in 1913,
he housed his collection of Romanesque and Gothic artifacts,
including fragments from four French cloisters,
in a structure in Washington Heights,
which he logically called "The Cloisters Museum."
In 1925 The Metropolitan Museum purchased its content
with funds provided by John D. Rockefeller, Jr.
After rearranging the display, improving the outside grounds,
and adding to the collection sculptures given by Rockefeller,
The Cloisters reopened in May of 1926
as the branch of The Metropolitan Museum.
The limitations of the site were soon made apparent
when new apartments began to rise around it,
and a proposed new street threatened to cut through it.
In 1930 Rockefeller donated to the City of New York
a nearby tract of land,
which came to be known as Fort Tryon Park,
with the understanding that four acres occupying a hilltop
be reserved for a future Cloisters Museum.
The following year
the Boston-based architect Charles Collens,
who had just completed the Riverside Church,
was contracted to work on the design of the new structure,
together with Joseph Breck,
curator and director-designate of the future Cloisters.
From 1931 to '33
Collens and Breck exchanged a copious correspondence,
often daily, about the design of the museum.
Housed in The Cloisters' archives,
this correspondence provides detailed documentation
of the evolving design schemes.
We learn that Collens and Breck quickly settled
on a general, monastic plan for the future museum,
a choice suggested
by the predominantly ecclesiastical nature
of the collection.
In a 1931 report
Breck eloquently justified the use of a monastic plan,
pointing out that the medieval church,
with its sculpture,
its decoration of painting and stained glass,
its treasures of metalwork and illuminations,
was in itself a veritable museum.
"Since the exhibits to be installed in The Cloisters
"are mainly ecclesiastical in origin,
it would seem appropriate to base the plan of the museum,"
of the new museum, "upon that of a medieval church,
"or, more particularly,
upon that of a monastic church and associated buildings."
Breck also saw as an advantage
the fact that no specific rules governed the design
of medieval monasteries
and that various parts of any functioning monasteries
were often added on or modified over time,
resulting in a melange of structures
of differing dimensions and styles.
This early vision, seeking flexibility and adaptability,
served well the ever-expanding collection,
for between 1926 and 1933,
the year the final design was approved,
many purchases and gifts
from different periods and regions of medieval Europe
continued to augment the original collection,
obliging the architect
to incorporate an ever-wider variety of objects
into the museum's structure.
Deciding on a monastic plan--
without copying any particular European monasteries--
was the easy part.
The more daunting challenge was to determine
how to incorporate the historical fragments
into a 20th-century structure.
Let us look at the reconstructed cloister
comprising fragments from Saint-Guilhem,
the Benedictine abbey founded in the ninth century.
This reconstruction was largely the effort of Joseph Breck,
and following his untimely death in August of 1933,
his successor James Rorimer.
Although a cloister by definition
is a courtyard open to the sky,
very early on it was decided
that the fragments decorated with delicate carvings
needed to be protected against the elements
and therefore needed to be roofed over.
Indeed, the Saint-Guilhem fragments
include some of the most exquisite carvings
in our collection,
some inspired by plant forms,
others based on familiar biblical narratives.
Collens and Breck also sought to suggest somehow
that the original was a double-storied cloister,
but the site of the French monastery had long ago
become too damaged to offer any useful clues
for the reconstruction.
Rorimer decided to adapt the parapet work he saw
in another cloister,
that of Saint-Trophime in Arles, in Provence,
hoping to achieve two purposes:
first, that the parapet wall would suggest a second story;
and second, that it would allow a flat glass roof
covering the center court to be raised,
making its presence less obvious
from the surrounding vaulted walkways.
The suggestion of a second story was especially meaningful,
since most of the fragments at The Cloisters
are believed to have come
from the original cloister's second story,
generally dated to the end of the 12th century,
at a time when the monastery enjoyed great popularity
as an important pilgrimage destination.
The covered walks
surrounding the reconstructed cloister in New York
are most likely inspired by the cloister of Montmajour,
which is also covered by stone vaults,
with periodic transverse arches supported by carved corbels.
The challenges posed by Saint-Guilhem,
namely, the reassamblage of a group of dispersed fragments,
were resolved by seeking precedents
in other historically and stylistically comparable
monuments.
The word "precedent" is found many times
in the correspondence between architects and curators,
used to indicate an architectural component,
such as a vault, a gate, or even the coursing of a wall,
found in an existing historical monument
or in publications about medieval architecture,
which was then used as a basis
on which a similar component would be designed
for the new museum.
We see, for example, in the entrance door to The Cloisters,
the so-called postern gate,
an unmistakable reference to a doorway
at the Cistercian monastery of Fontfroide
in southern France,
a precedent whose round archway was modified
into a subtle, pointed arch to complement the Gothic character
of the vestibule behind.
Another example is found in this northeast corner of the museum,
with circular turrets, small windows, and multiple rooflines,
which loosely followed the jagged silhouette
of the small church of Monsempron
in southern France,
a structure Collens found especially attractive.
The reconstruction of the cloister
from the Benedictine monastery of Saint-Michel-de-Cuxa
posed a different set of problems.
Suffering the same fate as Saint-Guilhem,
elements of the 12th-century Cuxa cloister
were dispersed throughout the region,
but enough remained in situ to provide a clear glimpse
of its original dimensions.
The limited number of fragments purchased by Barnard
in the first decade of the 20th century
allowed its reconstruction at only half of the original size.
As early as March of 1931,
during the nascent stage of the design process,
it was decided that Cuxa would serve
as the focal point of the museum.
Breck made arrangements
to purchase more of the pink marble,
freshly extracted from old quarries near Cuxa,
in order to create a harmonious reconstruction
that has become one of the most-frequented locations
of the museum.
As we stroll down one of the corridors today,
or peek through the chapter house for Notre Dame of Pontaut,
the serene, contemplative atmosphere is only disturbed
by the fantastic animals carved on the dozens of capitals
These animated imageries remind us
of the famous letter written by Bernard of Clairvaux,
who protested the presence of "these ridiculous monsters,
of unclean apes and fierce lions."
The whimsical and sometimes bold depictions
found in these Cuxa capitals continue to compel many of us
to commit the same crime
Bernard observed in the 12th century,
that we'd "rather read in the marble than in the books."
While making sure that the general layout of The Cloisters
focuses around the two cloisters just described,
the curators and architects also sought to strike a fine balance
between the building's interior and exterior.
In a broad sense,
they wished to provide a fluid communication
between the indoors and the outdoors,
including the relationship
between the museum and Fort Tryon Park,
so that the massing of the exterior
would harmonize with its rustic surroundings
to create, in Rockefeller's words,
"a culminating point of interest
in the architectural design of the park";
or, as Collens put it,
"The building was to give the impression
"that it has simply grown out of the rock on which it was built
and to become part of the hill itself."
In addition, Collens created intimate embrasures
and window openings throughout the building,
carefully framing the picturesque views
of the rustic Fort Tryon Park, the Hudson River flowing by,
and the expansive Palisades of New Jersey.
We experience the same framing device also
between the galleries,
from the early Gothic chapel into the Gothic chapel
through a beautiful 13th-century limestone window;
or from the unicorn tapestry room
through a 15th-century window, into the Cuxa cloister.
1934 brought more architectural fragments to the collection.
In that year, George Blumenthal,
financier, collector,
and president of The Metropolitan Museum
from 1934 to '41,
dismantled the music room from his garden in Paris.
Rorimer and Collens visited the structure,
itself a reconstruction
of a small church from the countryside near Paris,
to handpick fragments they wanted for The Cloisters,
which Blumenthal generously gave to the museum.
One of the fragments was this doorway
from an Augustinian priory in Reugny,
near Clermont-Ferrand in central France.
Having served as the entranceway
to Blumenthal's salle de musique,
today it greets those visitors
entering the Saint-Guilhem cloister.
Among Blumenthal's many gifts
were a set of limestone windows
originating from a Dominican convent in Sens
and arcades from a cloister in Froville in Lorraine.
The 12th-century chapter house from Notre-Dame-de-Pontaut,
a Cistercian monastery in western France,
was acquired as late as 1935
and promptly added to the design
just as the final model was being completed.
The inclusion of the chapter house
adds another important dimension to our understanding
of monastic life in the Middle Ages.
Often situated in the east arcade of a cloister,
the chapter house is never far from the monastic church,
the vestiary,
or the places where precious liturgical objects
or manuscripts are kept.
Together, these rooms form the religious nucleus
of the monastery.
The subdued sculptural program of the Pontaut chapter house
offers a striking contrast
with the lively images found in many of the capitals
of the Cuxa cloister.
Metal rings still dangling from the two central columns
are vivid reminders
of the post-Revolution history of this room,
when it was used as a barn for horses and pigs.
A good portion of the general public believes, mistakenly,
that The Cloisters had been built originally as a monastery
or that it had been a monastery transplanted from Europe.
Frustrating as it is for those of us
trying to explain the history of the museum,
these misconceptions are in fact the highest of compliments
for those involved in the design and construction.
They created a complex of indoor and outdoor spaces
which not only house
some of the greatest objects from the Middle Ages
but also, magically, preserve its air of contemplation,
its otherworldliness,
and, somehow, its very silence.
Thank you.
(applause)