BY DAN VALENTI

PLANET VALENTI NEWS AND COMMENTARY

ED NOTE 10-2-17 — THE PLANET shall be back tomorrow with a column on the mass murder in Las Vegas.

(FORTRESS OF SOLITUDE, MONDAY OCT. 2, 2017) — Sources close to Ground Zero inside the imploding Berkshire Museum (BM) tell THE PLANET that the “deeply conflicted” Board of Trustees is “in a state of civil war,” with “tensions near the boiling point” over the lack of leadership by executive director Van Shields.

One source, Sunny, says “Shields presence is tearing [the museum] apart. He has put [Board president] “Buzz” [McGraw] in a tough spot. She’s trying to stamp out a wildfire with a rag soaked in gas, and he wants her to cover it up.” Several board members have threatened to quit, they say, and an attempt to call an emergency meeting was quashed. “There’s also growing concern and second thoughts about [the art sale]. Shields is pushing this to save his hide.” But what about the so-called “New Vision?” “A smoke screen,” one source said. For what, we asked. They wouldn’t say, offering instead what looked liked a cross between a cryptic smile and an exasperated shrug.

Strong stuff. THE PLANET, of course, would welcome a statement from Shields, McGraw, or any board member. We would also make a guest shot available on our TV show.

When the phone doesn’t ring, I’ll know its Shields and the BM not getting back to us.

Since THE PLANET began its series on the outrageous planned sale of artwork by the BM, two board members have made public their resignations: Treasurer Carol Riordan and trustee Nancy Edman Feldman. Riordan has been cautious in her public statements, and Feldman hasn’t commented publicly. Sunny says, though, that they insisted that Shields call off the sale of two Norman Rockwell paintings and 38 other works by noted artists, threatening to quit if he didn’t. This, sources say, led to a showdown. Shields wouldn’t budge. Riordan and Feldman made good on their threat to quit.

Sunny says only one other board member openly backed the two women, although several wanted to wanted to but “weaseled out.” Asked why, another source said, “fear.” Apparently, a lot of pressure is being put on McGraw to keep the lid on things at least until the Sotheby‘s auction can be completed. THE PLANET salutes Riordan and Feldman for their principled, courageous stand, and we call on other board members to search their consciences and publically call a halt to the rape of a fine institution. It can be done.

The argument will be made that the funds raised by the auction are needed for the very survival of the BM. The obvious counter is that putting more money into the hands of this director and board would only hasten the demise, like enabling a junkie to continue his habit. It would be irrational to expect more money with the same management to yield a result different than more eventual debt. It would also ensure a further erosion of an art-depleted facility resembling more a children’s Funland than an adult repository of fine art and natural science.

With the walls caving in and the muddy water 10 feet over the levee, this doesn’t sound like a situation, and the BM doesn’t sound like a place, that’s deserving of one more penny of help. Investors, donators, and philanthropists be advised.

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THE PLANET had wanted to devote our final column to a more personal reflection. The momentum of the story, however, upset that plan, as sources began to open up to us. We will, though, offer this.

Growing up in Pittsfield in the late 1950s and 1960s, we haunted the BM, especially during the school year. We joined the Explorer’s Club, a Saturday morning kids’ group. Museum staffers would give us a set of questions that could only be answered by going off, unescorted, throughout the hallowed halls. We were like detectives, taking the questions and clues to track down the answer. Each correct answer moved our colored pin closer to the summit of a large, bulletin-board mountain. One of the great days of childhood came when we finally reached the top and got our gold star, complete with certificate.

There were countless alcoves, nooks, and attractions in the museum that would echo our footsteps and keep us enthralled for hours: the phosphorescent gem booth, Old Bill, the stuffed wildlife, the dioramas, the bas relief map of Berkshire County with its push-button control board, the oscilloscope where we would recite words and see the audio waves translated on a video display as a jagged, green line. We loved the sculptures and paintings, couldn’t take our eyes off the mummy, and had the  thrill of sitting at Herman Melville‘s desk where he write Moby Dick.

Our favorite memory came on our first solo trip to the museum, at all of about nine years old. We wandered through the upper galleries when Rockwell’s iconic painting, “Shuffleton’s Barbershop,” came into view. We marveled that such realism could be painted. Art plebians and critical snobs might discount photo-realism in painting, but only through ignorance or pride. Fact is, every great artist — Picasso, Dali, Cezanne, Rembrandt, you name them– mastered realism before moving on to more experimental and connotative work. “Shuffleton’s,” actually, contains a warmth and emotional tone that mere photo-realism could not achieve. It is a brilliant work. Only a dunce would fail to see that.

We remember drinking in this painting, and it was the first (and one of the rare) times a piece of art literally shocked us. In the lower right corner of the painting, Rockwell painted a crack in the barbershop window. In our innocence, we thought the glass in the actual picture frame had a crack. We couldn’t resist, running our left forefinger over the perfect imperfection, expecting an edgy resistance just shy of a cut.

Woah! The crack wasn’t real; it had been painted there!!

The painted crack indicated genius. The real-life crack in the museum’s directorship, unfortunately, belies the presence of incompetence, malfeasance, and criminality. What else can you call the private betrayal of a public trust? What else do you call the immense short-sightedness and stupidity of exchanging bequeathed art meant for the ages for 30 pieces of silver?

That, presumably, is why they have hanging trees.

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“We are stardust. We are golden. And we’ve got to get ourselves back to the garden.” — Joni Mitchell, lyrics from “Woodstock.”

“OPEN THE WINDOW, AUNT MILLIE.”

LOVE TO ALL.

The Usual Disclaimer.