TO THE ALBRIGHT-KNOX BOARD

I’d like to respond to the letter written by the deaccession committee of the Board of Directors of the Buffalo Fine Arts Academy (“Letters to AV,” Artvoice, v6n4) that was intended to correct and clarify points made by earlier letter writers. I commend the board members for addressing the public directly regarding the sale, and only wish they had been as forthcoming before the decision to “deaccess” was made.

It sounds as though they are genuinely surprised by the criticism that has come their way since the Nov. 10, 2006 announcement that some 200 works of art from the Albright-Knox’s permanent collection were going to be sent to auction beginning in March of this year. Maybe they don’t understand that the announcement came as a total shock to the public—including members of the Buffalo Fine Arts Academy, who were never informed that such a sale was even being contemplated and were in no way involved in the decision-making process. When the board praised itself in the pages of the Buffalo News for the openness and forthrightness of that process we were completely mystified, and even insulted, because it seemed to be anything but open. The deliberations were secret and their outcome came across as an imperious pronouncement from on high. And this is not some decision about repaving the parking lot we’re talking about; it’s an existential change of course, unprecedented in the museum’s history (perhaps in the history of American museum conservancy).

Apparently, the board thought that the wording of the 2001 Strategic Plan had prepared us for the sale. I’m sorry but, speaking for myself, as an advertising copywriter, a “reconfirmation of the Albright-Knox’s historical mission to be ‘one of the world’s most dynamic modern and contemporary art institutions,’” (the way board president Charles Banta explained the Strategic Plan in a Dec. 5, 2006 Buffalo News editorial) sounds like so much corporate boilerplate. Maybe it’s my fault for not taking what sounded like PR seriously, but if I’m not mistaken the Strategic Plan made no mention of redefining the museum’s reason for being, and there was not so much as a footnote or a seven-point disclaimer pointing out that the new mission statement would entail the “deaccession” of an entire category of objects from the collection, including many of my own personal lifelong favorites.

In its Jan. 25 letter, the board points out the disparities between the Albright’s annual operating budget (about $6.5-7.5 million), its total endowment ($58 million) and the operating budget of the Met (more than $270 million), its endowment (more than $2.1 billion), and MOMA’s budget ($150 million-plus) and endowment (about $560 million). These figures are illuminating, but I’m not sure what fact the letter writers intended to illuminate. What they demonstrate to me is the futility of entering into a contest with these larger institutions. (Are we to take on the Guggenheim, too?) Adding another $15 million is not going to move the Toldeo Mudhens into the same league as the New York Yankees. Selling off chunks of our permanent collection to fund new acquisitions is not going to turn our museum into a second MOMA.

And I don’t mean to disparage the Albright in any way. I don’t want it to stop acquiring new art, but do we really need an “aggressive” acquisitions program? When did art become a Darwinian competition? I love the gallery for what it is. We are not the Met and that’s okay. I love the Met for what it is, and the MOMA for what it is. I have no interest in spending a lot of money trying to refashion any of them into something they are not. But that’s my opinion. I’m open to argument. Let’s have it out. Let’s talk about it. But, please, don’t recraft my beloved museum without involving the public in a meaningful, two-way conversation.

Patrick Klinck

Aurora

Beware of the Tree Trimmers

Recently I was having my morning coffee, looking out my front window at my lovely, tree-lined street. What always catches my eye is a stately, 150-foot pine across the street, home to many birds and a perfect view to accompany breakfast.

Much to my chagrin, I noticed a tree trimmer high up in the tree, lopping off branches.

The tree had already been trimmed by National Grid after the October storm, yet the trimmer continued to chop off branches that were nowhere close to any electric wires. I started making calls to local officials looking for reasons why this lovely tree was being hacked to death before my eyes. Finally, I was told by a local official to call National Grid.

I eventually was put in touch with a sympathetic National Grid supervisor, who took it upon himself to get in touch with the crew supervisor working on the street. About 45 minutes later the crew supervisor arrived and soon the tree trimmer was making his way down the tree. The supervisor told my husband that the crew did not have English as a first language and misunderstood the work order. Instead of cutting branches directly overhanging wires the man in the tree understood the order was to cut off every branch on the tree. The supervisor needed an interpreter to call up into the tree to get the trimmer down.

Why aren’t local municipalities overseeing the work by utility companies? Why are improperly trained crews being used? Why isn’t there a safeguard in place to protect our trees? (Without intervention the tree would have been a 150-foot toothpick—a needless waste of natural beauty, not to mention manpower.)

We should not fear the possibility of falling tree limbs. We should fear what can happen to the ethics of economically challenged municipalities in an area that suddenly has the possibility of an infusion of federal money. We should fear utility companies who keep charging us more but do not take responsibility for safeguarding our neighborhoods and the environment, including our trees.

When you see all of those big orange trucks don’t be intimated by their size; ask questions. You can make a difference.

Cathy Skora

Buffalo