Mentors: The Making of an Art Historian

by Francis M Naumann

A surprising and revealing memoir populated with art historians, art influencers, and the former lover and lifelong friend of Marcel Duchamp, Beatrice Wood. Francis M. Naumann, a distinguished expert on Dada and Marcel Duchamp reflects upon his mentors, including Leo Steinberg, John Rewald, and perhaps his greatest Beatrice Wood, a renowned ceramic artist and one of the most prominent participants in New York Dada. Wood set Naumann upon a course of original research that would define him, but also provided a moral platform for what an art historian could be. Artwork by Kathleen Gilje; French flaps.

Genres: Biography

204 pages, Paperback

Published May 28, 2019

Reviews

[Jim Razinha · Rating 4 out of 5]

My commutes this year have been enhanced by lectures on concert music (The Great Courses lecture series by Dr. Robert Greenberg, ten Great Masters, Their Lives and Music), and when this came across in an email, I was happy to expand my arts education again. I received a review copy of this from Edelweiss, Above the Treeline. I had read Maxwell Anderson's The Quality Instinct: Seeing Art Through a Museum Director's Eye six years ago (must reread it soon!) and wondered if this might be a bit of seeing art through a historian's eye. Not really, but engaging nonetheless. Naumann is forthcoming with his naiveties, candid with his relationships (be forewarned, he is open with some...adult...interactions), and while I didn't get the full sense of his subtitle until the end, I did feel a privilege of his sharing of his mentors. Those mentors were Leo Steinberg, John Rewald, Beatrice Wood, and William Rubin, Robert Rosenblum and Robert Pincus-Witten. I'll not pick much from his memories here...best to read about them yourself.

Talking about his childhood, he said "Today we would have been classified as poor. Thankfully, my brother and I were unaware of it at the time, for my parents always seemed to have enough money to buy groceries and pay the bills." That reminded me of my childhood, though I was more than a little somewhat aware that we teetered on the edge. His mother was a "Sunday painter (literally)", and he and his brothers, not knowing yet that they were adopted, "assumed we had inherited her 'talent'..." While he addresses nurture and nature at the end of his book, my question at this part in the beginning was "Can you not 'inherit" memetic knowledge?"

Nice observation after he learned that with financial aid, work study, and loans he was paying for his own college and resolved to never skip a class again and to actually pay attention:

Being alert and attentive, however, did little to change my attitude about art history. I continued to believe that it was unnecessary for the practice of making art, which, after all, was supposed to concern itself with the present (or possibly the future), but the way I reasoned at the time, not the past.

We can be so smart, yet so stupid when we're young. My arts appreciation came so late.

In one class, he challenged a statement by his teacher and got an A.

It was the first time I realized that an idea - even if it contradicted the thoughts of your teacher - could be valid, but I was still not convinced that art history was worthwhile.

Sometimes our youth obscures our future. And his realization is lost on many an arrogant teacher. Now, he says that a class in philosophy and one in science had more influence on him than his art history classes. As top his philosophy professor

I admittedly liked his lifestyle [tied to a sports car], but no more than I could accept the value of art history, I could not fully comprehend why the study of ideas had any relevance.

Cue the philosophy lovers, at almost 58 years old, I agree with his youth and I still don't. Anyway, he said in the science class, a project had groups trying to find the focal point of a lens using a match, candle, a ruler and calipers, and various lenses.

Although it may not seem like much now, it was this exercise that made me realize that you needed to utilize everything at your disposal if your quest was to get the right answer toi a question

Two important lessons here: 1) Using all at your disposal..., and 2) To get the right answer. How many times have you seen teachers trapped by limited grasp mark something wrong because "that's not the way it was taught in class"?

His transition from artist wannabe studying at the Art Institute to his life's career came to a juncture with his final thesis. I'll leave that for the reader, but he says he was rightly judged by his advisor for being intelligent but not able to make better art. Naumann realized everything he "made was derivative" and that "the explanations I was providing for my work were more interesting than the work itself,..." And so he became an art historian.

I earned some interesting things when Naumann described the feedback from multiple editors at Holt when he tried to help Beatrice Wood get her autobiography published.

All of them agreed the text appealed to too many divergent interests, and they listed no fewer than five: [...] An autobiography, they contended, was only worth publishing when the person writing it was already famous, or if the writer focused in so tightly on one aspect of his or her accomplishments that it was more about the subject than about the person writing the book, Only the, they said, could the book be properly marketed and sold.

Huh. She did get it published - first self published, then picked up by a major publisher and reprinted a couple of times.

Now, an observation Naumann recalled from a Steinberg class on Cubism and the first assignment being to find the best definition of Cubism in the extant literature on the subject.

Steinberg knew that few art historians - even those who wrote books on the subject - actually looked at the pictures, so most any definition we found would probably be flawed, and therefore easily challenged.

I found that interesting and telling. I know engineers that never put eyes on what they design (and are surprised when we tell them an access panel is partially blocked by a parapet wall...) Naumann found a good answer to the question that Steinberg did not tear apart like those of his classmates.

This experience taught me two things about Robert Rosenblum: firstly, he was a person who really looked at art, and secondly, when describing it, he chose his words very carefully. That was exactly the kind of art historian I wanted to be.

A great life lesson is to choose your words carefully. (Even in a book review!)

Naumann says he once asked Rosenblum (what only realized at the writing of the book was an unfair and too limiting question) "what type of art historian he would prefer to be remebered as: like Leo Steinberg or John Rewald?" Rosenblum defered (they were at a party), saying he'd answer later and did so on the way out, "Rewald." When asked why by Naumann, he said,

It's more important to get your facts straight than presenting ideas, which will probably be forgotten over time.

Probably unintentionally, Naumann circled back to the philosophy question.

A good, easy read. Naumann writes well and tells good stories. Now...the jumping off lead? Seems I should look into Marcel Duchamp. And apparently, Joyce's Ulysses, something I've never been able to get far enough into to abandon, is best "read" while listening.

[Daniel · Rating 4 out of 5]

This review originally published in Looking For a Good Book. Rated 4.25 of 5

Before I ever wrote my first book review, I was an art student and I had been writing reviews of art shows in my community. It never occurred to me that anyone could make a living as an art historian/reviewer ... I did it as a way to make sure I got to different art shows. When I saw this book available for review I was so delighted to have my request approved. Mentors, and art, and art history are certainly subjects dear to me.

What's really intriguing about this book is that it is an autobiography and a series of mini-biographies all rolled into one book. Francis M. Naumann is telling his story, but how can any of us tell our own story without bringing into light the people we connected with and who helped shape us?

As we get to know more about Naumann - an art scholar and expert on Dada and Surrealism - we also get to know Leo Steinberg, John Rewald, and Beatrice Wood (and to a lesser degree [through the course of the book], Robert Rosenblum, Robert Pincus-Witten, and William Rubin) - each an important figure in the world of art and art history.

One portion of the book is distinctly not art related. Naumann tells of his being adopted, tremendously happy with his adopted family, but like many who are adopted, curious about the genetics that formed him (since the book is about his 'learned environment' in becoming the man he is, this becomes the section related to his biological environment). His search for his biological parents does lead to a meeting with a frail, ailing parent that does not have the result he was hoping for ... which is why this is little more than a footnote of a chapter.

I was impressed with this book and Naumann's writing. I'm quite curious about his other works and now have a new list of books that I hope to read.

Looking for a good book? Mentors: The Making of an Art Historian by Francis M. Naumann is a truly delightful autobiography and collection of mini-biographies rolled into one well-written book.

I received a copy of this book from the publisher, through Edelweiss, in exchange for an honest review.

[Mary · Rating 4 out of 5]

My friend has a collection of Beatrice Wood pottery and collages. When I saw that Mentors concerned the author’s relationship with Wood and other luminaries of the art world I knew I had to read it.
There are two major themes in the book; the making and shaping of an art historian devoted to DADA and the nature vs. nurture argument for adopted twins.
Naumann is molded by his interactions with Leo Steinberg,John Rewald and Beatrice Wood. His descriptions of each are fascinating. Thinking he must follow Steinberg’s example of being a bachelor historian, he is relieved to find that his next role model is happily married. The two historians are like night and day, one urbane and sophisticated while the other retreated into his own monastic scholarship.
I highly recommend this memoir and am grateful for being given the opportunity to read it by DoppelHouse Press.

[Kitty · Rating 5 out of 5]

I loved this book. For a while I have been a great admirer of Francis Naumann, and this book solidified these feelings even further. It was witty, gripping and even touching at times, providing a compelling look into Naumann's life and the people who inspired him. As an aspiring art historian myself this book has given me a valuable insight into the intellectual art world, and I hope I can one day meet for myself the talented inspirational art historian that is Francis Naumann.

[Scott · Rating 4 out of 5]

Naumann, one of the foremost experts on the works of artist Marcel Duchamp, is a fluid writer with a strong sense of self. This memoir captures both his irreverence and his tenderness for others. By tracing the roots of these personal traits to individual mentors, we learn a great deal about Naumann’s approach to art and to life.