Recounts the breakneck competition among the powerful art museums of the world to verify the authenticity of and to acquire the unique tenth-century Winchester Cross
Thomas Pearsall Field Hoving was an American museum executive and consultant, best known for serving as the Director of the Metropolitan Museum of Art.
His books primarily focus on art-related subjects, including art forgeries, Grant Wood, Andrew Wyeth, Tutankhamen, and the 12th-century walrus ivory crucifix known as the Bury St. Edmunds Cross. His memoir, Making the Mummies Dance, details his years at the Met.
Probably not everyone will get such a thrill from it, but because of my interest in art and history, it could not have been better. I first read it in high school and I've just recently picked it up again. I always tell people it's like the Indiana Jones of the art world. Thomas Hoving is former Director of the Met, and this true story took place when he was just a curator coming up in the ranks. He goes on a quest to first prove if a mysterious ivory cross is real and then acquire it. He has to deal with the eccentric and mysterious collector who owns the cross. There are plenty of secret rendezvous in the dark basements of the art world black market. The best pay off of this book is knowing the story is true and this amazing piece of art does exist. So, if you have any interest in art or art dealing or museums, I say go for it and enjoye the ride!
Imagine yourself a guest in the company of a charming and expansive bon vivant. You enjoy the sumptuous meal and fine wine while he expounds on the shady inhabitants of the art world, as well as the magnificent treasures he has handled and studied. You are entertained by his snippets of gossip. You are dazzled by his erudition and mesmerized by his passion for art. Your host would be Thomas Hoving, future director of the Metropolitan Museum of Art, but at this point, in 1960, a youthful curatorial assistant in the Medieval Department. The story he is unveiling is the identification and acquisition of an English cross carved from walrus ivory in the 12th century: The Bury St. Edmund Cross.
I hope this captures the feel of this extraordinary story. The cross had surfaced in the Zurich bank vault of a sketchy Yugoslav collector and self-styled art restorer, Topic (pronounced Topeech) Mimara. No one seems to know anything about him. He may have been in the Yugoslav Intelligence Corp. He may have stolen artworks from the post-war Collections Point in Munich while an officer there. He may have had black market dealings. He is a fabulist whose stories are both implausible and completely unverifiable. Half of his collection are blatant fakes. He refuses to permit the cross to leave his vault and will not allow photos. He has been putting out feelers for several years, and is asking an outrageous price for the treasure. But, Hoving has fallen in love with the cross and, with reckless resolve, is determined to secure it for the Metropolitan's collection.
Part of his excitement can be attributed to the rareness of the piece. Ninety per cent of England's medieval art was destroyed during the dissolution of the monasteries under Henry VIII. More important, the cross is superbly crafted. Hoving recalls the first time he sees the cross: “Golden buttery in color, every surface and facet of the cross shone and glistened with tiny, delicately formed figures silently conversing with each other by means of artfully held scrolls. I touched the cross gently. It was worn smooth and oily with age, yet it was rock hard and unyielding at the same time.” (p.120) At the same time, it holds many scholarly mysteries. The inscriptions are in Latin but heavily abbreviated. Much of the Biblical iconography is obvious: Adam and Eve at the foot of the Tree of Life, the Brazen Serpent, Christ's Crucifixion, and the Ascension; some of the figures are ambiguous. A few, however, are totally puzzling. The juxtaposition of Old and New Testament scenes reflect the theological device of depicting the former as metaphorically foreshadowing the events of the latter. Finally, what does the prominent inscription, “King of Confessors,” mean? The style of the carving is reminiscent of certain other pieces which will give clues to the exact dating. What inflames Hoving's excitement, however, is his own historical imagination, the ability to transport his mind into the cast of medieval religious vitality with it's faith in mysteries and miracles. He even dreams of the cross and sees visions of the depicted scenes.
Much of our own interest is focused on the personality of Hoving. Having identified a relief of the Annunciation as part of a pulpit in San Leonardo, Hoving is faced with the task of getting it out of Italy. His dealer casually assures him: “There are dozens of ways – car, boat, truck. The Italians don't care. Quite a number of people in Italy, very respectable people, make a steady living out of smuggling works of art.” (p.81). Hoving has a momentary pang of guilt which is easily quelled with a ready trove of rationalizations. At the Bargello in Florence, Hoving notices an ivory plaque similar in style to the cross. He is determined to make a direct examination. Ascertaining the absence of a security alarm, he simply unscrews the case and lifts the object -- with his knuckles (so as to not leave fingerprints)! After the examination, he simply reassembles the display and walks on. Nor is he beyond concealing facts he has uncovered when persuading his boss and mentor, James Rorimer, to aggressively pursue acquisition of the cross.
Hoving's story is not brief. He relates every wave of excitement and disappointment; every triumph and setback in the pursuit of his goal. This is Hoving's story and he treats us to numerous digressions. Despite this detail, his story is astonishing.
NOTES: The hardcover edition includes both black and white and color plates of the Bury St. Edmund Cross. Additional websites of interest are listed below.
King of the Confessors is the kind of book that might have inspired Dan Brown to write a suspense novel about an art historian. It’s actually a memoir about Thomas Hoving and the museum that employed him in his quest for a work of art. Along the way you learn something of the world of museums and art historians during the early 1960s. Hoving is a successful man of that era (when tall, white men with the right connections unabashedly ruled the world—at least in New York City). It is a long, rather self-indulgent book by today’s standards (a museum curator doesn’t have enough celebrity to be published in hard back today). The story reveals a lot about recovery of art stolen during World War II, and the less than legitimate methods museums used to add to their collections. I enjoyed following Hoving’s research and discovery about the ivory cross. The cross turns out, despite its beauty and craftsmanship, to contain a disheartening coded message. There are some interesting characters—especially the antagonist, a man of many names—and there are a few unexpected plot twists. However, do not expect a Dan Brown novel! The book is out-of-print, but second-hand copies are available through Amazon.
Thomas Hoving writes about his experiences as an assistant curator at The Cloisters in New York, part of the Metropolitan Museum of Art, specifically in reference to his pursuit of what would later be known as the Bury St. Edmund's Cross. Now full disclosure, I'm all kinds of art history nerd so I find a lot of artistic, art historical, art theory, and curatorial books fascinating. This one though, is so well0-written. Hoving is, though oft a tad dramatic, so very honest and open about every aspect of his chase for the cross. He documents his thoughts and emotions both good and bad, his frustrations and triumphs, his dramatics, and even his thoughts for fellow colleagues in a warm and honest manner. His prose is never dry, and one can easily sense his distinct love for his work in medieval art history. This book is, in essence, a type of memoir, but it is also a sort of how-to for aspiring curators. Hoving eloquently shows the myriad steps involved in finding, pursuing, purchasing, and displaying a piece of art.
This book was given to me on a recommendation from someone who classified it as one of their favourite art history books ever, and I can see why. It's lovely.
Hoving writes well, but this seemed to be about a chapter's worth of material expanded into a book. This describes how Hoving, a fairly new hire in the NY Metropolitan Museum of Art in charge of The Cloisters, sets out to purchase an amazing medieval ivory cross for the museum.
We revisited and REvisited how awesome the cross was, how no one knows its origins, what its iconography means, how shady the man was who was offering it for sale, and how everyone involved (other museums, art dealers, other key people at the MOMA, just everyone) played mind games with everyone else until finally a sale was made to a lucky museum.
That's basically the book.
(So far, I'm enjoying his next book, Making Mummies Dance, much more.)
An old favourite.... And, yes, I've seen the Bury St. Edmunds Cross at The Cloisters, and it's stunning. In any case--- Hoving is always a delight to read, despite (or because of) all the wicked inside-the-museum gossip and self-serving tales (maybe not true, as the Italian saying goes, but well-crafted). And the tale of tracking, validating, and acquiring a mysterious ivory cross is a compelling read. Very much worth your while.
This is quite a book, with interest from a number of perspectives. However, since its publication in 1981, I think readers and the art world have changed so that the book makes a somewhat different impression than it did when first published. Thomas Hoving is a maven of high culture and former Director of the Metropolitan Museum in New York. This story takes place when he was a lowly assistant curator of Medieval art at the same institution (indeed, starting when he was even more lowly—an art history graduate student). The book recounts his discovery of and eventual acquisition of an incredible work of art with no provenance and from a dubious seller. Yet the work of art’s greatness is enough to overcome all the practical, financial, and ethical concerns he and others had about it.
Hoving recounts his first hearing about the Cross of the Confessors and his attempts to find out more about it and its mysterious Yugoslavian owner, who apparently wishes to sell it (or maybe not) along with a number of other objets d’art (some of which are obvious forgeries, which appear to have fooled him completely). Is the work real? Is it as good as the stories tell? Who the heck is the owner, who is not a known collector or expert, and about whom rumors swirl? The first part of the book tells of Hoving’s explorations, and it goes on for too long. We really don’t need the verbatim discussions he has with the seller’s agent over a long, long lunch, nor do we need to hear the day-by-day description of what Hoving did in Rome while waiting to find out more about the cross.
Eventually, Hoving gets to see the cross (with a colleague) and recognizes it as one of the great objects of medieval art. Even from the book’s photographs we can see the amazing quality of the carvings on it. Medieval ivories are a cultivated taste, and they are often somewhat crude. These carvings are elaborate, with amazing tiny details. (You can see the cross on the Met’s website in even greater detail, and it is even more impressive there.) The problem is that the seller is impossible, and Hoving is only an assistant curator. His boss has other important things to do, and he doesn’t want to break the museum’s rules to purchase this item.
The second part of the book surrounds Hoving’s attempts to get the Met to agree to the unbelievable purchase price, to get the seller to agree to sell it to the Met, to go around the ethical and potentially legal obstacles to buying it, and to do all that before his competition (notably, the British Museum) beats him to it. This is interesting and fairly exciting. It is also revealing about the inner workings of museum politics, which are just as frustrating as those of any large organization.
The third part concerns Hoving’s attempt to identify the cross more specifically as to time and place of its construction, as well as to identify all the figures and inscriptions in order to understand the work’s import. This research, which is frankly fascinating, leads to some troubling discoveries about the cross’s iconography and inscriptions. I really liked this section, which expresses both the excitement of doing original research and making discoveries and the tedium that it often requires (e.g., reading and rereading the Latin Bible to find the source of all the obscure inscriptions).
Except for the overly long recounting of conversations in the early part, the book is easy to read and mostly quite interesting. I think an active editor could have made it more of a page-turner, but for those interested in art, this provides an interesting view into high-stakes art acquisition and scholarship. What also struck me, though, was how often the author confesses to various laws being broken, in this case or in other cases of art acquisition. In the 21st century, museums are returning art that was acquired illegally or immorally with greater and greater frequency. It’s not that museums were stealing the works (usually!), but that they showed scant disregard for export laws, for worrying about the provenance of artwork, or other potential claims on ownership. So, there are multiple references to buying art that is in Switzerland, because that country had no export rules or regulations. The buyers often knew quite well that the work had been moved to Switzerland from Italy or some other country illegally, sometimes only a few months earlier, and yet they thought that it was now ok to purchase it.
Was this great cross stolen from a monastery? Was it part of an unidentified Nazi theft? Eventually the museum decides that it is worth it to purchase the work in spite of these questions, in part because they could find no positive evidence that it WAS stolen, and their hated enemies in England, or worse, Cleveland (!!), might get the cross if they don’t. However, its dubious provenance, and the very shifty nature of the seller were red lights blinking, and they have probably been lucky that no claim has been made on it. The book could serve as a discussion text for a class on art ethics, with each chapter posing its own various problems for prospective museum employees, collectors, and people in the art business to consider. I don’t think that it is always obvious what the right answer is. Some art simply doesn’t have a clear provenance. Does this mean that it shouldn’t go into a museum? Some buyers and sellers are not respectable people. Does this mean that respectable people should never do business with them? What risks SHOULD they take, and what limits should there be on what should be done? Almost all old art has been moved from its original location, and some of it was stolen, if you go back long enough. No one argues that a theft in the 13th century means that an artwork should go back to its original owner (or family, or whatever), but how far back must that theft be for an owner’s heirs to have a claim on it? I see that the Met has now named the object The Cloisters Cross, which I guess helps to stop the viewer from wondering just where the object came from exactly. But that also reveals the importance the museum gives to this wonderful object.
To be clear, the book doesn’t actually discuss any of these things, but these issues are so apparent while reading it that it nonetheless serves a useful purpose of bringing them into focus. Recommended for art nerds or those who like a good art adventure. Just skim through the long lunches.
I have owned a first edition of this book since it was published, but for some reason never read it all the way through. I finally finished it yesterday. Once I started, it was hard to put down. It is a fascinating, detailed account of the crowning achievement of the author's life -- the acquisition for his employer of one of the most rare and beautiful achievements of medieval religious art, the ivory cross of the Bury St. Edmunds monastery. The book reads like a novel, with intricate historical detail and complex character sketches. Although the author's pride at his accomplishment as a young man is evident, the fact of the matter is that his pride is well-deserved. His account of the cross's owner, the enigmatic Ante Topic Mimara, is unforgettable. I thoroughly enjoyed this book. My only regret is that I didn't take the time to read it through earlier!
What DID I think of this book???? Some personal background: I enjoy art museums, although my enjoyment comes at a very unlearned level. While a student in Boston, I haunted The Museum of Fine Arts and the Isabella Stewart Gardner Museum; living in the general area of Los Angeles, there are several fine museums and galleries that I have visited. My dad is from New York City, and he spoke often of The Cloisters, and wanted to take the family there -- alas, he passed before that happened. And I have enjoyed previous books, fictions, related to the sort of art forgery that plays a role in this book. Finally, I've read a book by L.A. Times investigative reporters regarding how the Getty Museum had acquired, and then returned, Greek and Italian treasures with questionable provenance that it had acquired by nefarious means. I am familiar with athletic competition -- competition among prestigious cultural institutions was something that surprised, and sickened, me...naively, I would have hoped that high culture was above the mud.
Again, what did I think of the book? I thought that the author was a self-centered s.o.b. It's all about him, his angst, his efforts, his persuasive ability, his breaking the rules -- did he just boast about breaking into an unprotected case in that Italian museum in order to handle an ivory miniature? While he might be the smartest guy in the room -- and if you're not sure, well, he'll reassure you of that -- he's not the sort of fellow you'd take on a backpacking trip. Deservedly or not, he put himself on par with the work of art that he pursued, a medieval crucifix-sans-Christ from an English monastery that somehow found its way into the hands of a lying, shadowy Yugoslavian "collector." The story had a certain amount of drama which, for me, would have been helped had I not been subject to the personal tortures of the author as he conducted this pursuit. I think that the story itself is rife with intrigue, twists, and turns. I was interested in the process whereby the cross was determined to be authentic, given the shady character in whose possession it lay. The unscrupulous and larger-than-life "collector" begged further illumination -- author/curator Hoving didn't delve into his background to my satisfaction. I was also intrigued in the rivalry between the Metropolitan Museum of Art/Cloisters in New York City and a handful of other museums vying for the cross -- I would have liked more background into these institutions and the people who competed for the cross.
I was rather engaged by the author's close analysis of the figures and inscription on the cross. It was somewhat detailed -- some may call it dry -- but it lent credence to his fanaticism vis a vis the piece. Nonetheless, a little more of the other players and a little less of the author would have made for a more interesting, less narcissistic book.
I thought I had read this book many years ago, but in reading it over the last few days I really don’t recall the main theme - the acquisition of the Bury St. Edmonds cross. For such a dry sounding topic, it reads almost like a thriller with secret agents, dodgy characters and a behind the scenes look at the art world.
What I do remember about this book, however brief the comments, are the bits about The Cloisters, a part of the Metropolitan Museum of Art located in the northern part of Manhattan. Those tidbits were enough to seriously peak my interest. I was finally able to satisfy that interest about 2 years ago on a trip to NYC that included a day at The Cloisters. Definitely worth the wait, and now after reading this book (again?) I am ready to go back.
Fascinating and detailed ride through the mid-century world of the extremely high end art and museum business, as well as how museums research, hunt, and compete for priceless historic masterpieces. The author is undoubtedly well-educated, bright, and clever, with little modesty or humility, and he is a fine storyteller. Here, we travel along in a world with an eccentric and shady collector (or he is a thief) seeking to sell an amazing, unrivalled, historic work of religious art; aggressive and scheming museum curators; and art dealers, historians, and researchers of unimaginable skill and experience. This was fun and very educational read.
can't improve on the one review I saw on goodreads which said " museum curator loves cross, himself"That pretty much sums it up perfectly. Hoving is self aggrandizing but also an interesting commentator. The artwork provides a good deal of the story and the somewaht shady Topic mimara, who seels the cross , is a memorable character
This is my favorite "fun-reading" book ever. It's way better than The DaVinci Code if you like that kind of genre. King of the Confessors is so much better written. Plus, the story is TRUE. You can actually go see the artifact at The Cloisters museum in New York City.
The Bury St. Edmonds Cross (known by a half dozen other names as well) is a key work every student of Medieval Art is familiar with, as are the countless visitors to The Cloisters branch of the Metropolitan Museum of Art in New York City. Yet the story behind this work is almost as fascinating as the piece itself. Thomas Hoving, future Director of the Metropolitan Museum, but in this work new Met assistant curator, relates this tale of his relentless hunt for this unique work from initial rumors, through shadowy art dealings in Europe, and to convince the Met to purchase it despite numerous problems. Thomas Hoving was a known ‘character’ in the art world, and this comes through strongly in his writing. He’s clearly written in as the hero in his own story—from religious experiences, to diary entries, to his always doing the exact right thing in the exact right place at the exact right time—but after a chapter or two it almost comes off as endearing and of an era. My main complaint of this work is the lack of pictures of some of the details he mentions. Luckily I was able to visit the Cloisters while I was reading it, although some things are very difficult to see or find. Overall, it is a great book that not only teaches about an important artwork, but pulls the curtains back on the inner workings of the Met and art collecting in the 1960’s.
Thomas Hoving, one of the most importantnt directors of the Metropolitan Museum of Art, relates his early days as a buyer- curator for the Cloisters. It is a memoir of his sleuthing for a 12th century ivory cross from Britain - giving us an inside look of all that is involved with major art transactions: slimy middlemen, arrogant curators, and cut throat competitions between museums.What is charming is the first hand account of the anxieties of a first time art historian setting out to prove himself and later establish his credentials - ultimately leading to his appointment as director of the Met.
Great book! Hoving was wise not to try and sensationalize the story since it needs no embellishment; he writes in a simple, straightforward style that lays out the facts, openly sharing his own moments of weakness. But don't let the modesty fool you... "King" is a sweeping tale of espionage and high-stakes art dealing, spanning three continents, and it actually happened! I challenge anyone to finish reading it without immediately looking up the cross on Wikipedia. Even the mysterious Topic Mimara has a page. I can't wait to get to NY to see the cross in person. Happy reading!
Hoving's true-story account of his pursuit and acquisition of an exquisite medieval ivory cross for the Metropolitan Museum of Art's collection is a very enjoyable read. Outsiders like me tend to think of the art world as a very genteel profession, but Hoving spins a tale of a cutthroat business full of liars, thieves, and con artists who are utterly ruthless in their pursuit of buying and selling their various treasures. Even "knowing" how it was ultimately going to end, I was still fascinated to find out how he got through all the various obstacles and rivals to get his hands on the thing.
Despite the irrepressible arrogance of the author and the tedious descriptions of the origins of the art piece, this is an entertaining read. It offers a fascinating glimpse into art collections, art dealers, the politics of art institutions, and the intrigue involved with Nazi art "acquisitions" during WWII.
I LOVED this book. Who knew that the story of the acquisition of an object of art by the Metropolitan Art Museum could be so riveting? I was absolutely fascinated. We are reading it for a book club, and I can't wait to discuss it. He has written some other books, and I certainly want to read those.
A fabulous account of the hunt and acquisition of a beautiful Romanesque cross at the Metropolitan Museum of Art. Knowing so many of the old characters from Cleveland, Milliken, Sherman, Rorimer, reading this has really been a treat. A great account of the glory days of the art museum, when it was an institution and not a business.
A memoir recounting the acquisition of the ivory cross at the Cloisters. Pretty entertaining, although I imagine someone who actually knows the first damn thing about Medieval art would probably get even more enjoyment from the book.
Facinating look at the world of Thomas Hoving, a NY Metropolitan Museum curator and his quest for a medieval ivory cross. Touches on the netherworld of Nazi stolen art during and after the war.
This book is very intellectual--too intellectual for me. My Dad's late friend who had his PhD from an Ivy League school recommended it to me, so to honor him I ploughed my way through it. It is probably an amazing book. I just think I am not smart enough to follow it.
I loved this. It took a little bit to really get into it, but Hoving's rich detail and developed "characters" really made it great. My head is reeling from all the information and i'm ready to do some of my own research on the cross! Great read!