Vermeer, or even next to the faience carving of the Sphinx of Amenhotep III, and it's simply laughable," said Gaylord. "We're not a warehouse of the bizarre and extinct. We are quite simply the greatest repository of art in the Western Hemisphere, a living institution that is not only informative but uplifting, in a way that our sister across the park was never meant to be."
"So, the joint exhibit?" "Holding hands for the greater good, Detective. It's all about profit-making, as you might guess. When the national economy took such a marked downward shift this year, the trustees had to ask Thibodaux to tighten his belt."
"Why him?"
"Because he's such a big spender. That's what he was brought in here to do three years ago. All the fat- cat trustees had money to throw at him and adored his boldness. I'm not talking behind his back. One of the things we all like about having him at the helm is that great works of art are being offered to us all the time because collectors know that we have a rich board willing to pay for these masterpieces. No haggling, no bargaining."
Erik Poste took over from Gaylord again. "The Met puts on special exhibitions all the time, as you probably know. Some more successful than others. This one has been in the planning stage for more than a year. It was Thibodaux's idea to ask Natural History to partner it with us. It's never been done that way before, and quite frankly, he thinks it has the potential to be a financial blockbuster."
"So does UniQuest," Gaylord said, reminding me of the purpose of last night's party.
"So what's this theme?"
"It's our working title. `A Modern Bestiary.'" "Doesn't sound too thrilling to me," Chapman said.
"Don't worry. Our friends in Hollywood will probably dream up a snappier title before we're done. We've already rejected things like `Satyrs, Sirens, and Sapiens.' It's actually been a riveting undertaking. There's something in it to appeal to everyone, which is what makes Thibodaux such a genius at marketing. He and the woman who runs Natural History--Helen Raspen--she's absolutely brilliant."
"What's a bestiary?"
Erik Poste spoke again. "They were originally medieval books, Mr. Chapman. They purported to depict and describe all the animals in the world, and then--because this was the thought in the Middle Ages--what human traits they each represented."
"Animals with human traits?"
"Bestiaries are the source of all kinds of fabulous beasts, and artists throughout the centuries have used them as guides to literary symbolism. Think of the unicorn. A magnificent pure white beast with a single horn in its forehead. It's long been the symbol of virginity."
"And I used to think that was a blonde prosecutor," Chapman mumbled under his breath.
Gaylord went on. "Lewis Carroll, James Thurber, Jorge Luis Borges--they've all done bestiaries. Much more recent, of course. This gives us a chance to pull together centuries of work from both collections with a common theme. We've got the artistic representations in our paintings and sculpture, while Natural History has the fossils and skeletons. Art lovers or animal fans, kids and grown-ups, there's something for everyone to relate to in a show like this."
Roll out those giant silk banners that announce new shows as they hang from the museums' rooftops, open the cash registers, stock the gift shops, and the masses will come.
Where had we lost Katrina in this? "How was Ms. Grooten involved?"
Timothy Gaylord rolled his lacquered fountain pen back and forth between his palms. "When Thibodaux first proposed this idea in-house early last year, we decided to get together with someone from each collection within the Met."
"How many are there?"
"Eighteen curatorial departments--everything from the three we represent to musical instruments and photography. We started with the heads of each group. Some of the smaller divisions sent representatives. I remember that Hiram Bellinger, from the Cloisters, came to
"So, the joint exhibit?" "Holding hands for the greater good, Detective. It's all about profit-making, as you might guess. When the national economy took such a marked downward shift this year, the trustees had to ask Thibodaux to tighten his belt."
"Why him?"
"Because he's such a big spender. That's what he was brought in here to do three years ago. All the fat- cat trustees had money to throw at him and adored his boldness. I'm not talking behind his back. One of the things we all like about having him at the helm is that great works of art are being offered to us all the time because collectors know that we have a rich board willing to pay for these masterpieces. No haggling, no bargaining."
Erik Poste took over from Gaylord again. "The Met puts on special exhibitions all the time, as you probably know. Some more successful than others. This one has been in the planning stage for more than a year. It was Thibodaux's idea to ask Natural History to partner it with us. It's never been done that way before, and quite frankly, he thinks it has the potential to be a financial blockbuster."
"So does UniQuest," Gaylord said, reminding me of the purpose of last night's party.
"So what's this theme?"
"It's our working title. `A Modern Bestiary.'" "Doesn't sound too thrilling to me," Chapman said.
"Don't worry. Our friends in Hollywood will probably dream up a snappier title before we're done. We've already rejected things like `Satyrs, Sirens, and Sapiens.' It's actually been a riveting undertaking. There's something in it to appeal to everyone, which is what makes Thibodaux such a genius at marketing. He and the woman who runs Natural History--Helen Raspen--she's absolutely brilliant."
"What's a bestiary?"
Erik Poste spoke again. "They were originally medieval books, Mr. Chapman. They purported to depict and describe all the animals in the world, and then--because this was the thought in the Middle Ages--what human traits they each represented."
"Animals with human traits?"
"Bestiaries are the source of all kinds of fabulous beasts, and artists throughout the centuries have used them as guides to literary symbolism. Think of the unicorn. A magnificent pure white beast with a single horn in its forehead. It's long been the symbol of virginity."
"And I used to think that was a blonde prosecutor," Chapman mumbled under his breath.
Gaylord went on. "Lewis Carroll, James Thurber, Jorge Luis Borges--they've all done bestiaries. Much more recent, of course. This gives us a chance to pull together centuries of work from both collections with a common theme. We've got the artistic representations in our paintings and sculpture, while Natural History has the fossils and skeletons. Art lovers or animal fans, kids and grown-ups, there's something for everyone to relate to in a show like this."
Roll out those giant silk banners that announce new shows as they hang from the museums' rooftops, open the cash registers, stock the gift shops, and the masses will come.
Where had we lost Katrina in this? "How was Ms. Grooten involved?"
Timothy Gaylord rolled his lacquered fountain pen back and forth between his palms. "When Thibodaux first proposed this idea in-house early last year, we decided to get together with someone from each collection within the Met."
"How many are there?"
"Eighteen curatorial departments--everything from the three we represent to musical instruments and photography. We started with the heads of each group. Some of the smaller divisions sent representatives. I remember that Hiram Bellinger, from the Cloisters, came to
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