Welcome to Roy Slade's artworld!

Obviously, with two chief executives and four directors during five years, there had been much upheaval and turmoil at the Corcoran; climaxing with the notorious fisticuffs. When I arrived in the summer of 1967, the director was Hermann Warner Williams Jr.; he served as director for 21 years: 1947-68. When Bill retired in 1968, the Trustees appointed a chief executive officer, Aldus Chapin, and a director, James Harithas. Jim served as director through 1969. Walter Hopps was appointed director 1970 to 1972; then Gene Baro served as director for a few months with Vincent Melzac as chief executive officer. The fist fight occurred in November 1972 and I became director.

Dual leadership with a chief executive officer over the director and dean did not work at Corcoran. Ever since then, I have consistently been outspoken in my opposition to dual leadership. The director must be the head of the art gallery; the person in charge and control. The notion that a business man can head a cultural institution is absurd. Who do you wish to see conducting an orchestra; certainly not the accountant but the conductor who conducts and leads? In the art museum, the same is true and the director does just that: directs! Most crucial is that the director has a good eye, with the ability to manage, administer and lead the institution. To be fiscally responsible, understand budgets and raise funds are other necessary attributes. The director must direct, decide and delegate. Again, overriding all else, the astute vision and aesthetic judgment of the director are what will define an art museum.

Although their tenure was brief, each Corcoran director had their own distinctive eye. Jim Harithas presented some extraordinary and expensive exhibitions; as did his successor, Walter Hopps. Jim Harithas was assistant director when, in 1967, the curator of contemporary art, Eleanor Sue Green, organized the exhibition “Scale as Content”. Two enormous sculptures were installed in the atrium of the Corcoran Gallery of Art in October 1967. I had the privilege of watching these two massive works in progress of installation. The works were “X” by Ronald Bladen which filled the north side of the atrium; while in the south was the sculpture “Smoke” by Tony Smith. “Smoke” is made of black painted aluminum; 22 feet high, 45 feet long and 33 foot wide. A photograph of the work, with a diminutive Tony Smith, appeared on the cover of Time magazine October 13, 1967. The magazine article reported that Smith had, “discarded modeling clay in favor of blueprints, the chisel in favor of the welding torch”. Recently, in the New York Times of February 1, 2008, a new photograph of the sculpture appears; now installed in the atrium leading into the Los Angeles County Museum of Art. The director, Michael Govan, is quoted as saying, “It’s jaw-droppingly beautiful.”

Having seen the work installed at the Corcoran forty one years ago, I would agree. The other installation was by Bladen: the towering structure “X”; made in wood, a skeletal structure covered with wood panels, painted black. To see the scaffolding and structure emerge in the atrium was memorable; and remains so to this day. Barnett Newman installed “Broken Obelisk” on the outside corner of the Corcoran. The installation of this work has been referred to earlier; another memorable moment. Seeing these works installed and meeting the artists was an exciting beginning to my time at the Corcoran. These important works had a lasting impact and impression on those fortunate to see these works; particularly young artists. For me, the works were truly American in both concept and creation; the sheer scale and vast volume of the sculptures were awe inspiring.

As director, James Harithas, 35 years old, presented the Thirty First Biennial in February 1969. He dispensed with the traditional jury, appointing himself as sole arbiter and judge. Rather than an eclectic overview, with paintings hang cheek to jowl, he wanted to show a cross section of what was happening in American painting. Jim selected 22 artists, each with their own gallery. The Biennial reflected the radical change that Harithas wished to bring to the old Corcoran. From jazz concerts to the enormous sculptures, the change was obvious, as was the neglect of the collections. After a tumultuous year, Harithas was replaced by Walter Hopps, director of the Washington Gallery of Modern Art. Harithas was admired for his innovative exhibitions and commitment to avant garde; as was his successor Walter Hopps. Neither Jim nor Walter were the best of administrators, particularly budget wise?

Before the Corcoran, Walter Hopps became director, in 1962, of the Pasadena Museum of Art (now the Simon Norton Museum). He mounted the first museum retrospectives of Kurt Schwitters, Joseph Cornell, and Marcel Duchamp. After the Corcoran, Hopps went to the Menil Collection, becoming director in 1980; later he was curator. In his obituary for Walter Hopps, published in the Washington Post, March 22, 2005, Paul Richard wrote: “Most museum men are smooth. Walter Hopps wasn’t. He was a sort of gonzo museum director—elusive, unpredictable, outlandish in his range, jagged in his vision, heedless of rules…….”right until the end Hopps was searching out unfamiliar artists of exceptional accomplishment. He may have been the finest art scout of his age.” The writer mentions artists that Hopps encouraged: Kienholz, Ruscha, Stella and Warhol; while in DC: Gilliam, McGowin, Davis and Christenberry. “Hopps would often work for three days without a break, and then disappear for the same amount of time. When he was working at the Smithsonian’s National Collection of Fine Arts, his boss Joshua C. Taylor was sometimes heard to say, ‘If I could find him, I’d fire him.’ But of course he didn’t”.

Paul Richard goes on to write, “I still have the button somewhere. The size of a half-dollar, with white words on a black background, it was commissioned by his staff with only half a smile. It says: ‘Walter Hopps will be here in 20 minutes.’ Which meant, of course, he wouldn’t. Hours, sometimes days, would pass before one heard his low, rich voice, often on the phone in the middle of the night. It was always worth the wait. He was the best art talker I have ever heard. He mesmerized. He taught.”

Walter Hopps presented, in 1970, an ambitious and awesome exhibition: that was on the architecture and work of Paolo Soleri. The Gallery had to be closed for months with Soleri’s assistants living and working in the Gallery. The expense was too much for the limited finances of the Corcoran; but Walter was not the most practical of people. He was known for never being in his office; the rumor was that he conducted his business with calls from phone booths. Walter was rarely punctual and had a disdain for mundane practicalities. Nevertheless, he had had a remarkable eye; admirable perceptions; and a dedication to the unpredictable in art. Walter is held in admiration and awe by those that knew him; he had about him a certain mystique. His discerning eye and commitment supported and furthered the career of many artists.

(In this internet age, endless information is available. I have refreshed my memory through selective use of Google; often overwhelming and indiscriminate in the sheer volume of entries and facts. However, I confirmed some facts, learnt some more and found such items as the obituary for Walter Hopps. What I have tried to give in my writings are some personal reminisces and insights. For an aspiring writer, much more is to be researched and yet to be written?)

I was grateful to Hopps because he installed my show at the Jefferson Place Gallery in 1969. At that time, I benefitted from his remarkable eye and visual sensitivity as he was kind enough to arrange my paintings. Of course, I had to wait for him and drive him to the gallery. The installation was completed just in time; an elegant and thoughtful presentation, thanks to Walter. However, his tenure as Corcoran director was brief: 1970-72. The stay of his successor, Gene Baro, was ever shorter, a few months, ending with that bloody cut.

As an artist, I admired these directors: Harithas, Hopps and Baro. Each was very different in attitude and appearance; yet all shared a commitment to art, artists and the avante garde. Harithas was pugilistic in his mannerisms, aggressive but affable. Jim was intense, at times brash; sincere in his commitment to artists that interested and intrigued him. A non stop talker, cigarette in hand, his glasses glistening, he would harangue the listener with imaginative ideas and challenging concepts; his was a style of confrontation.

On the other hand, as has been said, Walter Hopps was elusive but eloquent. His quiet intensity and insightful knowledge were spellbinding; indeed, he was a teacher. Tall and slim, with wavy black hair and horn rimmed glasses, Walter could be a charmer with commanding presence.

Gene Baro also was commanding in his presence: large and rotund, filling any room, Orson Welles like in appearance and gesture. Baro could have been an actor, having a fine sense of speech and gesture; he was a painter, poet and an anglophile. He and I became friends. As director, in 1972, Gene Baro presented a group of my paintings in one of the galleries of the Corcoran known as the ‘Washington Room’. The sculptor, Anne Truitt, had her work on view in that gallery at the same time; for me, a rare honor, thanks to Gene. I owed him a debt of gratitude.

I invited him to act as guest curator during my tenure as director. I also asked Bill Williams to serve as director emeritus; the board agreed with both of these decisions. Bill fulfilled his obligation to complete the two volumes of the Corcoran Collection; working closely with curator Dorothy Phillips. Many names come to mind as I look back at my ten years in the Corcoran; as teacher, dean and director. Too many names to mention, even to remember, but I am grateful to all those that helped me, particularly staff, artists, volunteers and board members. Without their support, I would not have been able to fulfill my responsibilities and aspirations at the Corcoran.