One Hour at The Met

MUSEUM GUIDE | CABANA TRAVEL | CABANA MAGAZINE

In this series, we travel the world's greatest museums through the eyes of leading tastemakers, asking one question: if you only had an hour, what would you see? This month, Wolfram Koeppe, Marina Kellen French Senior Curator of European Sculpture and Decorative Arts, takes us on a tour of The Met, New York, where he’s worked for over 30 years.

BY MILA WOLPERT | CABANA TRAVEL | 26 JULY 2024

Roman Period, Egypt , completed by 10 B.C., Aeolian sandstone, Temple proper: The Metropolitan Museum of Art, Given to the United States by Egypt in 1965. 

Wolfram Koeppe, Senior Curator at the Metropolitan Museum of Art, has an extraordinary ability to see beyond the aesthetic qualities of works of art, understanding the deeper attributes behind historical treasures. As one of the world’s leading experts in decorative arts and sculpture, he is interested in the ingenuity behind such masterpieces, how these works represented their owners, and the technological advancements and scientific inquiry these examples of fine craftsmanship symbolized. He shares his exceptionally curated edit of The Met's collection.

Bashi-Bazouk, 1868–69, by Jean-Léon Gérôme

Jean-Léon Gérôme (French, Vesoul 1824–1904 Paris),
1868–69, Oil on canvas.

"This is a somewhat recent acquisition from 2008, and a very outstanding portrait because, for the 19th century, Gérome is one of the artists who really can convey the beauty of a material’s texture. You can see his mastery in the details: the shine of the fabric, the little details that are woven into the fabric, and all the accessories that the person is carrying.

“Above all, I’m really impressed that, for the period, someone was so forward-looking, and not only showed a sitter, but also gave that sitter really outstanding dignity. The sitter is somebody who looks very self-secure, someone who looks towards the future. In the 19th century, it was not so common for somebody to be portrayed in such a precise way and with psychological insight.

“It seems that the artist put an emphasis on that. I know other paintings from Jérome of that period and all his characters are truly characters, not idealistic figures. So, I conclude that what we see, we can actually believe, and I feel great comfort in that.”

Madonna and Child, ca. 1290–1300, by Duccio di Buoninsegna

Duccio di Buoninsegna, ca. 1290–1300, Tempera and gold on wood; The Metropolitan Museum of Art, Courtesy The Met.

“Forgive me, but the first time I saw this work, I said, ‘this is our Mona Lisa.’ It is rather small, and beautifully displayed in the new arrangement in the Central European Painting Galleries. It’s crucial to note that until this time, you had Madonna, and you had a child, and they rarely looked at each other - the child especially did not concentrate on the mother’s face.

“Here you see a tender, loving moment between the two, with no better expression of this as the child raising its arm and pushing Mary’s veil aside to capture her whole face, and with that, also her whole attention. Here, we see a relationship between a mother and her child, not necessarily the Madonna in heaven with Jesus. This work is something you can relate to very easily.

“The size indicates this was something made for private devotion - that you could interact with the image. The best proof, if you look at the lower frame, are two slightly blackened indentions. This damage came from the flames of devotional candles. Whoever was in front of this piece did not pay attention when the candles were too close to the painting. Lastly, on the very lower edge, you have this architectural feature, which comes from ancient classical architecture, which is sort of the beginning of trying to imply more realistic imagery. You no longer have the gold-ground panel, but instead, a landscape behind the subjects. This work is on the threshold of that change, and I don’t know a better painting that demonstrates this. The Met added something rather important with this acquisition.”

Fragment of a Queen's Face, ca. 1390–1336 B.C.

Fragment of a Queen's Face, New Kingdom, Egypt, ca. 1390–1336 B.C., Yellow jasper, The Metropolitan Museum of Art, Purchase, Courtesy The Met

“Although this is just a fragment, art is about inspiring and leaving the admirer’s mind open for fantasies. Here, even with the lips not totally preserved, the sheer beauty and perfection with which it is made, together with the material, is striking. The material is very important because it is jasper, which is considered a semi-precious stone. In Antiquity, jasper had connotations with protecting powers, and would prevent you from the evil eye and bad influences. The fact that the sitter was transformed and this human individuum was something larger than life.

“I imagine that in each and every collection around the world she would be an absolute highlight. The piece is rather small, so it would be easy to overlook it in a gallery where you have some monumental sculpture, but its mesmerizing color draws you in. People look from far away, and think, ‘wait a moment, what is that?’ And that’s very important for an artwork - that it ignites something in the viewer. Here, certainly, it’s the color of the stone.”

The Roof Garden Commission: Petrit Halilaj, Abetare

Petrit Halilaj (born Kosovo, 1986), Installation view of The Roof Garden Commission: Petrit Halilaj, Abetare, 2024. Courtesy of the artist; Chert Lüdde, Berlin; kurimanzutto, Mexico City / New York; Mennour, Paris © Hyla Skopitz

“The Roof Garden could be seen as a piece of art, but it wasn’t intended as such. Every year, the Met displays a different exhibition by commissioning an artist to produce an artwork that will be on view from around May to late October. What I really enjoy on the rooftop is not only the new contemporary exhibition each year, but also the view in general, because there is no other place in New York City where you can enjoy, what I would like to call, the ever-changing architectural landscape of the gesamtkunstwerk New York. You have a 360-degree view of the skyline, which has constantly changed during my thirty-two years here at the Met.

“For me, this is an important part of the Museum. It’s nice for visitors because they are taken from the enclosure of the galleries into this almost-endless space. Also, something fascinating is the changing of the seasons in Central Park that comes with the view - you have the changing of the colors of the leaves, and in the winter when there’s snow, there is a very high reflection of light. Each time you go up, it looks very different. The most fascinating experience is when you have the chance to watch a sunset on the rooftop over the west side. You can do this on Fridays and Saturdays, while having a drink, until 8pm.”

The Temple of Dendur, completed by 10 B.C.

Roman Period, Egypt , completed by 10 B.C., Aeolian sandstone, Temple proper: The Metropolitan Museum of Art, Given to the United States by Egypt in 1965 and awarded to The Metropolitan Museum of Art in 1967; Courtesy The Met

“This room provides us with a huge space where we can have celebrations, events, concerts, and more, but to focus on the artwork again, the Temple of Dendur on display in this fantastic hall is a symbol of the friendship in those years of Egypt and America, as well Egypt’s gratefulness to America in helping to rescue temples that were otherwise flooded by the building of the Aswan High Dam. Of course, this temple may not be a first-rate Egyptian temple, especially if you compare it to others that are in Egypt, but on the other hand, it is the only one outside of Egypt, so you really have to look at it that way.

“I like the fact that this temple is something that New York earned. There was a competition when this temple was offered to the United States, that I recall several cities and institutions applied to, and New York, as a major cultural center, and also with the temple as a perfect addition to our Egyptian collection, won. The temple on display also implies something else - not everybody in America has the chance to take a trip to Egypt. For the general audience members and students, this building is truly something fantastic to experience. You can get up close to it, really feel the space, and imagine how it must have looked in the Egyptian landscape.”

Mangaaka Power Figure (Nkisi N’Kondi), second half of the 19th century, by Kongo artist and nganga, Yombe group

Kongo artist and nganga, Yombe group
Second half of the 19th century, Republic of the Congo or Cabinda, Angola, Chiloango River, Wood-Sculpture, Courtesy The Met

“This is one of my favorite African figures, which is part of the Africa, South America, and Oceania department located in the Rockefeller Wing, reopening after extensive renovations next year. This figure is very impressive not only through its size, but also for what it was used for.

“It was most likely created by an artist who lived along the Congo or Angola coast in the late 19th century, where figures like this played a central role in the life of communities. These nails were hammered in on very special occasions, and for very special reasons. You can see from the sheer number of nails, that this was a devotional figure that was in active use for a very long time. I’m always impressed when I see it. This sort of recent acquisition reflects The Met's commitment to building cultural crossroads, and to present a more comprehensive story.”

Toilet set in original leather case, ca. 1743–45, by 14 German (Augsburg) goldsmiths and other German artisans; Japanese (Imari) porcelain maker

Fourteen identified German (Augsburg) goldsmiths and other German artisans; Japanese (Imari) porcelain maker
ca. 1743–45, Courtesy The Met

“The Toilet Set was made in the mid-18th century and used for ceremonial dressing of a very important person. Louis XIV, and other princes and aristocrats, had fashionable sets following a tradition developed in the 17th century. Very often, they were a gift from the groom to his bride on their wedding night as a status symbol.

“The set includes a mirror and all the implements for your makeup in the morning, as well as little boxes where the sponges were kept soft overnight, so that you could reuse them in the morning. There are also two little cups of Japanese export porcelain, which was extremely rare at that time, out of which you would drink tea; a teapot, some other utensils, and a small bowl with a lid standing on a tray, which you could practically use as a dish; everything you would need for the morning; as well as candlesticks, which would be very helpful in your bedroom in the evening.

“When it was dark, you would put the candles (extremely expensive at the time), in front of the mirror and the glass would reflect them. The flickering light of the candles, together with the undulating shapes of the silver, would give a mesmerizing appearance. The appearance would not be static, it would look like the outlines of these objects were trembling or moving around when you saw them in candlelight. We tried this out at the Met, but it’s something we unfortunately cannot convincingly imitate in the galleries, even with sophisticated modern lighting systems. It really must have been quite pleasing to have that experience.”

Marsyas, ca. 1680–85, by Balthasar Permoser (1651–1732)

Balthasar Permoser (German, Bavaria 1651–1732 Dresden)
ca. 1680–85, Marble on a black marble socle inlaid with light marble panels, Courtesy The Met

“This is a literal screaming image of Marsyas, where he cannot scream any longer. There was a competition between Apollo and Marsyas, and Marsyas was tortured for his loss. His tongue was torn out, so he was, most likely, not able to talk or cry.

“He was skinned alive, and a wrapping of a monster-faced shawl had evolved from the detached skin, encircling the shoulders like a textile or a fur. A fur scarf is something that usually brings comfort, but in this case, it’s really the opposite - it’s the face of the devil and the underworld creeping in and consuming Marsyas’ life.

“You can see the pain not only featuring in his bulging eyebrows, but also blood shivering underneath. When you are in front of this sculpture, it is so detailed, and the viewer is left totally impressed by how unbelievable it is. The point that is most telling is his hair, which I did not identify as hair when I saw it at first, but rather flames of pain coming out of his brain.

“For me, it is important to mention that this artist voyaged to Italy, like generations of artists, to look for the inspiration that Italy offered. Balthasar Permoser worked in Florence and knew Florentine Baroque art. Besides his success, he did not stay in Italy, and went back to the North, where he poured all his firsthand knowledge towards the region and became one of the most important architectural sculptors. He worked and defined Dresden's court structures. Just look at the highly individualized mimic of the faces, and you recognize the artist's artistic impact on Northern 18th-century architectural sculpture.”

Studiolo from the Ducal Palace in Gubbio, ca. 1478–82, designed by Francesco di Giorgio (1439–1501) and executed by Giuliano da Maiano (1432–1490)

Designed by Francesco di Giorgio Martini (Italian, Siena 1439–1501 Siena)
ca. 1478–82, Walnut, beech, rosewood, oak and fruitwoods in walnut base, Courtesy The Met

“I think we can consider this one of the most important pieces of Renaissance art to have survived outside of Italy. It has a dramatic story and was acquired by the Museum in 1939. After being removed from Gubbio palace in Italy, it was stored in a summer residence in Frascati, a town heavily destroyed during WWII. One could argue that the fact that it was brought to America may have rescued it. The other side is that we reconstructed this wonderful studiolo, or little room, down to a millimeter, from the floorplan's layout in the Ducal Palace. A painstaking copy with Intarsia, following traditional cabinet making techniques, was set in place in 2009.

“The converging lines and their vanishing points of the wooden inlay or Intarsia create an illusion of depth on the two-dimensional surface. It looks like you can open cabinets with various books for contemplation, musical instruments, and shelves holding arms and armor, which takes us to the sophisticated patron who commissioned this marvel: Duke Federico da Montefeltro. He was a warlord and mercenary, so you could hire him and his army for warfare and pillage. His bloody business was so successful that he accumulated wealth and power allowing him to afford to show off his learned interests so typical of the Italian Renaissance.

“Juxtaposed next to an extensive library, the studiolo was a retreat where the Duke wanted to study. His armor in the closet means he took it off to become himself. By stepping into this space, he becomes a person - it has a lot to do with the time of humanism and individualism, to contemplate your afterlife, and to study ancient authors and ancient books. For the Met, this is one of our very important segments of period rooms, where we can show the public how people lived.”