Thomas Hoving and The Metropolitan Museum of Art: A Review of Hoving’s Memoirs

Over the past several decades, I have frequently found myself in New York City, travelling there from the Midwest for purposes of both business and pleasure.  It’s an incredible town, and I absolutely love being there.  There’s really no other place in the world like New York City.  For folks like me who like to appreciate and collect fine and decorative art (the pieces in the above featured image are all from my former corporate collection, c. 2003), it’s a veritable Mecca.  In Manhattan, there’s a museum on virtually every corner and a gallery on every street.  And whether I’m there on business or for pleasure, I invariably end up hanging out at the Metropolitan Museum of Art.  It’s a place (two places, actually) where, in past years, I’ve gotten lost literally for hours upon hours, and for days on end.

The Metropolitan Museum of Art, or “the Met,” is the largest art museum in the Western Hemisphere, and arguably the most illustrious in the world.  Its permanent collection of over two million individual works is housed in two separate Manhattan locations – the main building, located on the eastern border of Central Park on 5th Avenue on the Upper East Side (exhibiting items from the period of the Renaissance through the present), and the Cloisters, toward the north and west corner of Manhattan in Washington Heights (housing an unparalleled collection  of medeival European art, objects, and architectural elements).  Established in 1870, the Beaux-Arts main building was designed by famed architect Richard Morris Hunt.  The Cloisters, which opened its doors in 1938, was designed by architect Charles Collens.  Its exterior design references the medieval wonders which reside within.  The museum as a whole (both locations) attracts millions of visitors every year (over 6.5 million in 2019) from all over the world.  And although Manhattan is home to several other world class art museums – The Frick Collection, The Hispanic Society of America, and The Museum of Modern Art (trust me, I’m also obsessed with each of these places), to name a few – the Met really is The Big Apple of The Big Apple.  And of the rest of the world, as well.

Each time I visit the Met (regrettably, it’s been more than a few years since I was last there) I marvel at the incredible behind-the-scenes undertaking which the operation of this immense wonder requires.  The vetting, acquiring, restoration, curating, and displaying of its breathtakingly beautiful, and priceless treasures; the maintenance and care of the facilities and grounds; organizing openings; security; budgeting; fundraising; political maneuvering; the mindblowing, intricate management; the sheer genius behind it all, guiding its flow, directing the whole of it.  I think about the brilliant mind at the very head of the chain of command at the Met, the mind that’s ultimately responsible for the Metropolitan Museum of Art bringing the world’s most spectacular art treasures to a worldwide audience.  I contemplate the mind of its director.

Enter Thomas Hoving.  Hoving was the the Met’s director from 1967 through 1977.  And what Thomas Hoving did in this period of time for the relevance, success, validity, and visibility of this august institution, and as a result, for the appreciation of art on a truly global scale, is the stuff of legend.  (This, afterall is the man responsible for bringing The Treasures of Tutankhhamun exhibition – yep, King Tut’s treasures – to the Met, and organizing the exhibition’s tour throughout North America).  His impact upon the museum, and the art world at large, remains as acute and resonant today as it was during his tenure as the Met’s director.  He was both a contemplative visionary, and a practical, cunning, and efficient “doer cum fixer.”  He was an elegant raconteur, and a tireless, charismatic champion of the Met’s best interests.  And he knew and felt art – all of its history and all of its implications.  There has never been anyone quite like Thomas Hoving.  Before or since.  When Hoving died in 2009, the art world lost one of its finest and most influential ambassadors ever, and the world at large lost a great man.   

Fortunately for us, there exists a record of Hoving’s feats.  This comes in the form of his own prolific writing.  Hoving wrote a number of excellent books over his lifetime, many, at the very least, referencing his legendary career at the Met.  In my opinion, however, there are two of Hoving’s books in particular which best chronicle his experiences at the Met in his capacity as (among other roles) the museum’s director: Making the Mummies Dance: Inside the Metropolitan Museum of Art and False Impressions: The Hunt for Big-Time Art Fakes.  Since these books were published in 1993 and 1996, respectively, their reviews here can really be considered something of a miniature retrospective of Hoving’s written work.  Each book is brilliant, totally engrossing, and peerlessly informed.  They’re fascinating, fast paced reads packed with candor, wit, drama, and spy novel-level intrigue.  And believe me, they remain as relevant and timeless as the very treasures entrusted to Hoving’s celebrated stewardship.