I grew up in Philadelphia with an art-loving father, who frequently brought me ("dragged" would have been my verb of choice at the time) to the Barnes Foundation. In the late 80s, early 90s, the Barnes collection hadn't yet reached the height of its popularity which is probably why my dad liked to take out-of-towners (and even locals)—to blow their mind with the incredible selection of Impressionist paintings sitting in semi-obsercuity on the Main Line.
The museum allowed children between the ages of 10 and 12 in for free—anyone younger was not allowed—which meant that for many of our visits my childish disinterest to gallery outings was combined with an anxiety over rule-breaking as my dad either said I was older than I was so I could get in, or younger than I was so I could get in for free. (Not to totally sully his good name, keeping me in the admission policy sweet spot was all in the name of world-class art exposure and, entrance discomfort aside, I have strong memories of sitting alone in a gallery looking at the tigers in a Rousseau painting and trying to imagine what it would be like to walk around a house with Van Goghs and Cézannes crammed into corners like any old pieces of bric-a-brac.)
Fast forward 20-odd years and the Barnes collection will soon be accessible to the public in a new location in central Philadelphia. The adjective most associated with this move is "controversial" and after watching the documentary The Art of the Steal, I can't help but feel that regardless of the assertions of everyone involved to stay true to Barnes' presentation style and objectives, his most fundamental intention—for the collection to be housed permanently at the location in Merion—has been steamrolled in the name of bringing art to the public and tourist revenue to the city. (Make note, no mater how iron-clad your Last Will and Testament, once you die, there are no guarantees.)
The powers-that-be behind the move have brought in the big guns at Pentagram (specifically Abbott Miller) to design the logo, website and display graphics for the gallery. Well aware of the conflict surrounding the relocation, a recent post on Pentagram's blog provides an in-depth explanation of Miller's process, emphasizing that his inspiration came from researching Barnes' tendency to display art along an x-axis and that, in turn, the identity attempts to "insure that the museum maintains Barnes' indelible stamp." The result: a horizontally-oriented logo consisting of type and a series of Matisse-orange rectangles.
It's an encouraging start and the website is clean, with a layout that echoes the structure of the logo and incorporates plenty of imagery.
While the politics surrounding the relocation of the museum remain hard for me to swallow, having it enveloped in an attractive identity will make it a little easier to accept. And that's probably the point.
(Images courtesy of Pentagram)