Gustave Caillebotte: Painting MEN, goddammit!

"Man Drying His Leg"

        If you read this stuff and think, "Man, that Steinberg, he's a genius. He knows everything!" I would like, right here and now, to disabuse you of that notion. I am now, and have always been, a flawed, limited man, blundering about his business in a shambolic fashion, filing oddball reports in order to make a sort of living. I've never pretended to be anything else.

    And yet, some people must consider me the all-seeing-eye. Any omission must be a deliberate part of my master plan, such as failing to address a certain controversy related to the Caillebotte show mentioned in Monday's column. 

     "You left out the whole issue of the Art Institute changing the name of the exhibit from its name at the other two institutions hosting the exhibit," writes John D. Schmitt. "Seems the Art Institute whitewashed the issue of Caillebotte’s being gay. [At] Musee d'Orsay and Getty museums, it’s titled 'Painting Men' That’s the major story here and you missed it completely. Ask the Art Institute why they changed the title of the exhibition?"

     No need to quiz the Art Institute as to their motives, as the Trib already did that. The museum said that a) there's a lot of pictures of other subjects besides men in the exhibit and b) "Painting His World" tested better.

     Although. Had I known, I might still have not joined in the chorus of condemnation related to the name change. To be honest, I considered slicing the top off — focusing entirely on Raqib Shaw's "Paradise Lost," the painting taking up the last two-thirds of the column.

     But I liked my bit about never before considering what Caillebotte had painted beyond "Paris Street; Rainy Day." Part of my comic, ostensibly befuddled, in-print persona that happens to correspond exactly with my not-all-that-funny, actually befuddled, real life persona. 

     Who didn't know that, five days earlier, the Tribune devoted an entire story to the show's title. Changing from "Painting Men" to "Painting His World," the story said, "has led some to accuse the Art Institute of queer erasure."

     I bet they did. I had fancied that the silver lining of the Trump monstrosity was that finely-tuned liberal sensitivities might not be quite so hair trigger, given the general scuppering of democracy, the free press, personal bodily autonomy, and such.  I'm amazed some people have the psychic energy to parse such fine points.

     I mean, the Art Institute did put on the show, did they not? And if their intention was to obscure gayness, they did a pretty poor job of it, in that any reasonable intelligent person, such as myself, spending a moderate amount of time strolling the exhibit, as I did, would come away with the impression that Caillebotte was most likely gay — it's not like he left a diary — and, freed by his family wealth, felt no disinclination to reflect that perspective, at least when it came to celebrating men with a gaze that, typically then, was reserved for women.

     Honestly, had I known about the kerfuffle, I might have given it a nod, to show that I was in the loop. That not being the case, I'm not particularly interested in joining the mob beating up a fine Chicago institution for not perfectly celebrating a heretofore underrepresented who, last I looked, had body slammed high culture to the ground and still has it in a headlock. 

     That battle has been won, and museums, like theater companies, have been doing contortions for years trying to welcome everybody into the tent. A worthwhile effort, though I'm sure that long ago they began to suspect that nothing is ever good enough.