Art: Rising Connoisseur

The heroes of the art world, rightly, are creative artists; yet occasionally a standard-bearer of a different sort emerges as a creator in his own right. Such a man is James J. Rorimer, director of The Cloisters, the Metropolitan Museum’s medieval branch in Manhattan’s Fort Tryon Park. Rorimer began constructing The Cloisters in 1934, has since made it the world’s best museum of medieval art and a major tourist attraction. This week Manhattan was abuzz with rumors that Rorimer was in line for a new and even more demanding assignment: filling the large chair vacated by wide, witty Francis Henry Taylor as director of the whole Metropolitan Museum.

Dürer from the Crib. Now a pink and sturdy 49, Rorimer set out to become a connoisseur of art with the same care that another man might give to preparation for brain surgery or nuclear physics. Dürer’s engraving of Knight, Death and Devil hung over his crib, he recalls, and “I was a wood carver before I was a Boy Scout. At nine, I took a course in arms and armor. I got two years off from prep school to visit the art centers of Europe.”

Rorimer’s father was a wealthy Cleveland sculptor and decorator who encouraged his son to learn about art by collecting it, suggested candlesticks for a starter. “So I went around Europe collecting candlesticks,” Rorimer says.

Illustrating his procedure by picking up a candlestick, Rorimer demonstrates the connoisseur’s approach: “My first question would be,-‘What did this candlestick really look like originally?’ I developed such a passion for cleaning art objects that museum people use to call me ‘Mr. Sapolio.’ Then I’d ask, ‘How did it look in its original setting?’ I’d try to reconstruct the setting in my mind. Now in a museum you can actually give some idea of the original setting — not much, but some. For instance, some doors at The Cloisters are real Gothic doors. The very act of passing through them helps one enter the medieval world. Then finally I’d ask, ‘Why do I like this candlestick?’ Or ‘Why don’t I?’ I’d try to make sure I liked or disliked it as a candlestick, not as a reminder of some other object, because every kind of art object has its own ideal form. Once I learned to recognize the ideal form for a candlestick I could tell the great ones at a glance. Then I stopped collecting candlesticks and went on to boxes.”

Tapestries in the Scrapbook. Rorimer also went on to Harvard, had the advantage of studying under Paul Sachs (who trained most of the nation’s art directors and curators). “Our best training at college,” Rorimer recalls, “consisted in picking out the finest works of art from large groups of photographs. It was a case of looking at both the forest and the trees, developing selectivity.” As a student, Rorimer became increasingly fascinated by medieval art, pasted in his scrapbook pictures of the famed Unicorn tapestries, which are now a special pride of The Cloisters.

Rorimer joined the Metropolitan Museum in 1927 as an assistant in the department of decorative arts, climbed steadily in rank. Seven years later, John D. Rockefeller Jr. began to build The Cloisters as a branch of the Metropolitan, and Rorimer was put in charge of the project. He incorporated parts of dismantled European monasteries in the new museum, made it a cool, harmonious retreat from mid-century Manhattan to medieval Europe. Since it opened in 1938, close to 7,000,000 visitors have entered The Cloisters’ narrow Gothic doors, and Philanthropist Rockefeller was so pleased with the results that he gave another $10 million for purchases. The interest on the fund—about $500,000 a year—is used for upkeep as well as purchases (the Met itself has not a great deal more to spend).

Fabulous Combination. As a World War II Army captain, Rorimer had the task of finding Nazi art loot and getting it back to its rightful owners. In 1946 he returned to the equally happy occupation of embellishing The Cloisters with masterpieces bought in Europe.

The Rockefeller fund and Rorimer’s eye proved a fabulous combination. Among their greatest coups was the piecing together of two lifesize statues of the Merovingian kings, Clovis and Clothar, which had been lost for centuries. Another was the purchase of three 15th century tapestries which Rorimer proved belonged together and assembled into a single irreplaceable fabric 30 ft. wide (TIME COLOR PAGE, June 14, 1954). Rorimer’s most recent find: a 15th century Spanish St. Michael of polychromed wood.

Today Rorimer lives with his wife and two children in an apartment close by his office in the Metropolitan. “There’s so much desk work,” he complains. If rumor is right, Rorimer will be at his new desk-even longer, supervising a staff of more than 500 and more than a million art objects in the nation’s top art job.