Peggy had an eye

Last night, hubby and I took in the documentary "Peggy Guggenheim: Art Addict" at Real Art Ways in Hartford. For me, it was a resonant way to end the year, as the film raises questions about what art is "up to." Unschooled as she was in art, Peggy Guggenheim had an eye for it. Works that came to be known as masterpieces by the previously unknown artists she discovered, promoted, and in some cases rescued from certain death at the hands of the Nazis, could fill a fat art history text. The film makes delicious use of candid audiotaped interviews the documentarian happened on in a basement -- talk about luck! -- and there's not much about Peggy's life and innumerable loves that goes undiscussed. What I came away wondering, though, was: why? Why did she select the works she did to add to her famous collection? What was it about each of them that made her pulse race? True, in some cases, the answer is obvious. Who wouldn't covet Brancusi's sleek, elegant, inevitable-feeling Bird in Space ? But what did she see in cubism, say, and in Pollock, that just about everyone else was missing? Maybe she was simply registering "the shock of the new," but, if so, did she buy any shocking new clunkers along the way? Did she go down any art paths that turned out to be dead ends? Probably, but for her, collecting art seemed to be its own reward, especially after she gave up her gallery and started developing the collection that's housed in her Venice museum. If there's a lesson for us in Peggy Guggenheim's life, it may be to trust ourselves more, to care less about what others think and say. Over the years, Peggy was insulted, dismissed, and treated roughly -- including physically -- by people she'd helped and loved. Asked if she felt certain artists she'd made famous should have shown her more gratitude, she said no, that they had fulfilled their end of the bargain by producing beautiful work. May we cultivate such equanimity in 2016!