Loving, hating Ritts to bits

0 Comments | Insight on the News, Dec 16, 1996 | by Gayle M.B. Hanson

Bostonians are queuing to see the Herb Ritts retrospective at the Museum of Fine Arts, but critics and curators are somewhat less enthusiastic.

From its graceful entrance on Boston's Huntington Avenue, the Museum of Fine Arts, or MFA, has borne high the banner of culture in the city that sometimes is called the Athens of America. These days, however, the great gray Empress of Brahmin refinement is attempting to shed its staid image with a controversial blockbuster exhibition by a photographer best known for his racy Madonna videos and Calvin Klein ads. "Herb Ritts Work" is the photographer's first major retrospective and is running now through February of next year.

"What makes Herb's work so modern is its touchability," muses fashion diva Donna Karan about the work of the lensman who helped put her on the map with his advertisements. "When we look back, his are the images we will remember." Karan, it might be noted, is underwriting the MFA exhibit.

Whether Ritts will join the gallery of photographers whose commercial work has transcended advertising to become art -- Man Ray and Richard Avedon come to mind -- one thing is certain: The museum is packing them in with its largest show ever dedicated to a shutterbug. Unfortunately, enthusiasm for Ritts' work seems directly linked to the viewer's embrace of all things Karan, Versace and Klein.

"It's Cher's tattoo!" exclaimed Steve Mahoney, a 36-year-old Malden accountant, pointing out the emblazoned derriere of California Republican Rep. Sonny Bono's ex-wife to his girlfriend, Randi, who'd dragged him to the museum for a little culture. "Wow! "

On a recent Sunday morning, an orderly line snaked out the doors of the gallery back through several rooms of ancient artifacts. While waiting to enter the exhibit, visitors told Insight what brought them to the museum.

"Madonna," exuded a 21-year-old East Boston college student named Kerri. "I love his pictures of her. Those and the photos he took of k.d. fang and Cindy Crawford for Vanity Fair -- the one where Cindy's shaving k.d. It's awesome."

Certainly, the 50 photographs that fill the gallery lean heavily on celebrity. There's Madonna in Hollywood and Tokyo. Naomi Campbell in Los Angeles. Five portraits of Jack Nicholson grace the walls, along with those of Liz, Christy and Cindy -- no last names needed -- or offered, for that matter.

A stroll through the exhibit feels like a tumble through the looking glass into a world where images from Vogue are blown up to mythic proportions. The result is unsettling. The subjects themselves so often are from the self-reflected world of fashion and entertainment that they do little but focus a kind of kleig light of notoriety onto the mirror of fame.

"The chemistry is exciting, and neither the MFA nor Boston will be quite the same again," says Malcolm Rogers, gallery director who has overseen the exhibit. "Although [the museum] has always had an outstanding reputation for the excellence of its programs, I perceived a need to embrace more contemporary interests and aspirations -- a breath of fresh air. Herb Ritts is just such a breath -- or indeed a gulp -- of fresh air."

But for every enthusiastic viewer declaring "I love Herb Ritts" in the guestbook, however, there is another decrying the exhibition as "Porn. Money. Drugs."

Even the art world is not entirely behind the MFA's attempt to canonize Ritts. Nasty rumors have abounded since the show opened that Boston was chosen as the site because New York museums weren't interested. As of late November, no announcements had been made about where the show will travel after it closes in February.

And if the art world whispered behind its hands at last year's Richard Avedon retrospective underwritten by the New Yorker -- Avedon's employer -- it is less hesitant to attack Ritts. "It's all about the Gap," says one auction-house photography expert. "That's not to say that it won't sell. But will it last? I don't think so."

About the only thing good that can be said about the Ritts show is that it may bring visitors into the museum who otherwise would not find their way inside its doors. Trouble is, despite the numbers of tote bags sold, coffee cups hawked and calendars purchased, Herb Ritts' work is best appreciated during a quick flip through a fashion magazine in the grocery checkout line. Ritts just doesn't rate the hoopla. And in this case, Boston's great gray Empress has no clothes.