by Maddie Rutland.
Growing up in Arkansas, I’ve learned to appreciate the natural beauty of things. The flare of a cypress trunk as it disappears beneath marsh water, the pallet of the sunset against a horizon lined with ink-black forest tops. To me, art is in everything, from the aesthetics of nature to the arch of a church doorway and of course, in works done through canvas and photographs.
When Crystal Bridges in Bentonville was announced, I could hardly contain myself. Growing up in Arkansas also has drawbacks; while natural beauty abounds, it hasn’t granted me the opportunity to appreciate fine artworks in the flesh. The closest I’ve ever gotten is the print of Starry Night that used to hang in my bathroom. The fact that a world-class art museum was opening so close to home brought with it a surge of pride for my state and the belief that the museum would open doors for citizens who have never had the chance to truly view and appreciate art. That it would enable them to view amazing works of art they never knew existed. But more than anything, I hoped that it would kindle within their hearts a love not unlike mine, an affinity for art and all that it is.
When I looked further into the gallery, I assumed that I would find articles from important newspapers and magazines, praising Walton for moving artistic influence into a state like Arkansas, one not known for its cultural affluence. As people of culturally-rich communities, I thought the writers would be in full support of the expansion of art into less conventional venues.
Instead, my high came crashing down the moment I searched for more information about the opening on Google. At every turn, critics and patrons from around the world slammed Alice Walton, condemning her for having the audacity to open a fine art museum in Arkansas, of all places. People from New York, Philadelphia and other cities groused about her “stealing” art from their galleries. A painting of the Hudson River taken from a library in New York caused an especially raucous uproar. New Yorkers claimed that it was an injustice that a painting “belonging” to New York would end up in Arkansas; that it was a crime for the people of the Ozarks to appreciate something “sacred” to the city of New York, despite the fact that many New Yorkers had never seen the painting at all, or even heard of it.
The criticism of these people, people who are supposedly the most cosmopolitan and sophisticated of the country, appalls me. I wasn’t aware the gods of art drafted a class rank list that placed Arkansas in the last percentile.
The idea that art has become a material possession to be fought over, instead of what it was envisioned to be, ART, is deplorable. Walton stated that she built the museum to promote artistic interest in the people of Arkansas and neighboring states as well as attract art fans to northwest Arkansas, where they can appreciate the natural aesthetics of the mountainous scenery that dominates the area and appreciate how truly beautiful Arkansas is.
Everyone has the right to love art no matter where he’s from, to love art for what it is and not where it is, be that Milan, London, New York or, critics forbid, Bentonville.
