| Conversation - Andreas Bechtler |
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| Written by Celina Mincey | |
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It’s rare when simply meeting someone that you are aware of it being an honor. Sure, in a philosophical sense an encounter with any human being, creature or experience is a privilege that only happens in that slice of time. But it doesn’t often feel that way while reaching to shake hands and make the initial introduction. Andreas Bechtler is able to make a stranger feel at ease from the moment of the first handshake. I met Bechtler at his house. I’ve read how extremely private a person he is, but can’t find any evidence of reticence as he welcomes me warmly into his home. As he sweeps down a grand marble staircase, it’s more like I’m a long lost friend awaiting his arrival at the bottom. (In a brief daydream Bechtler and I dance through the foyer amid prominent 20th-century art pieces.) In reality, we sit on high-backed identical sofas, which face each other in front of a soft fire. The couch arm curves up to meet the back and is taller than me, so I’m able to sink into the corner without slouching and stretch my notebook onto my loosely crossed knee. I can take notes without effort and I feel poised and engaged in the conversation instead of like a scribbling spectator. Bechtler’s furniture looks like art, but it is also comfortable and functional. As we talk, this combination of features—artful, comfortable, and functional—proves to be a reflection of Bechtler as well. Andreas Bechtler grew up in Switzerland, where his parents were great patrons of the arts. In his teens, Bechtler painted beside important, respected artists and worked under mentors of great skill and acclaim. His entire life he has been surrounded by paintings, sculptures and photographs given to his family by artists they had befriended. Some of these artists are household names. Bechtler established his adult life in America, mostly in North Carolina, and continued practicing, supporting, and cultivating the work of fellow artists. In doing so, he built a personal collection, pieces of which have special meaning in the Bechtler family. Bechtler’s collection contains an original Andy Warhol. He didn’t obtain it at a fancy art auction or by paying highest dollar. Warhol created it for him—it’s that kind of personal. Bechtler says he collects art “not to know the art, but to know the artists.” Now, Bechtler wants the world to have a chance to know the artists in his family’s collection. He inherited half of it, along with what he feels is a responsibility to share it. Sotheby’s assessed the some 1,300 pieces of art deserving of a standalone exhibit and attached a large price tag to its value. But for Bechtler, the dollar amount or status of the collection doesn’t matter; he focuses on expressing his intimate connection to the art so that others feel free to develop their own relationships with it. He had planned to build a small museum on his property at Mountain Island Lake. He envisioned creating a getaway, an art haven where people could take a day or weekend trip to enjoy the serenity of the woods and the lake, and really spend some time with the art. Through several serendipitous events, the Italian architect Mario Botta, a colleague and friend of friends, came to North Carolina and designed the museum for free. Bechtler still has the model of the Botta plan.  But Charlotte’s movers and shakers had other plans. Directors of the Cultural Facilities Master Plan approached Bechtler with the idea that his collection should become the core of a cultural partnership between major museums and new multifaceted arts complex uptown. Unsure at first, and hesitant to give up creative control, he was convinced that they would support his vision for the project. They even agreed to give Botta the job of designing the new space. “I had to grow into this. I wanted it to be in a quiet setting for scholars, volunteers and art lovers. But I was glad for the interest and am happy to be able to contribute to this city that has been so good to me.” Here’s that quality again. Let’s call it grace this time. He speaks of his contribution in such a nonchalant way; it would be easy to think Bechtler is talking about sponsoring a bake sale. And trust me, it’s not one of those pretending-to-be-modest-while-fishing-fora- compliment tactics. Bechtler truly believes he is merely a “custodian of this artwork” and it’s his job to ensure its future, not that he thinks this makes him special. “We are all caretakers of something on this earth for a while. From that standpoint, it’s easy for me to give it away.” Easy? Bechtler is donating an art collection valued at well over $20 million to the public trust, meaning no one, including himself, can ever own it. It will forever belong to the people. That’s not all. It’s costly to build a museum from scratch and expensive to operate the first couple of years. Bechtler has pledged to fund any operating shortfalls for the first five years of its existence. It’s important for Charlotte that we have individuals willing to create things that will last for generations: buildings that become icons, ideas that become eminent cultural institutions. Think about the New York Public Library. It was created through an unprecedented act of private philanthropy for public good; now we can’t imagine the city without it. Bechtler was modest about the naming of the space, but he finally conceded that “The Bechtler Art Museum” best described the family collection that will, by the way, propel Charlotte’s cultural scene to a level that could quite possibly rival the attraction of the city’s sports venues. This collection has never before been available to the public. It contains works by Pablo Picasso, Alberto Giacometti, Andy Warhol, Joan Miro, Edgar Degas, Barbara Hepworth, Max Ernst, Jean Tinguely…I could go on and on. Don’t know who these folks are? People all around the world do. France’s cultural minister has already come for a private viewing of the collection’s major sculpture. There are people, lots of them, who will travel far to see art just as there are people who travel across the country to watch the Super Bowl. And it will all be right here for the citizens of Charlotte to visit at their leisure. The renowned work stands on its own merits. It’s moving and beautiful and it might be enough for some visitors just to view it and move on. Talking to Bechtler, though, you understand that this museum isn’t about just showing off famous pieces. It will be designed to reflect the stories of the artists. Bechtler describes small, intimate enclaves that will display not only an impressive piece by an artist, but other media such as films and informational placards that will tell, for example, the artist’s place in history and connections to other featured artists. The museum will contain other interesting artifacts from Bechtler’s collection, such as journals, notes, sketchbooks and other personal mementoes. Bechtler loves America because of the “freedom it affords. Here, if you have a vision, you can do it.” In reference to his building a cultural institution, I agree with his assessment. Bechtler is quick to correct me. “Well, this is different. All I’ve done is pick up these wonderful opportunities that keep coming as if on a conveyor belt.” I suggest his energy for the project pulls that conveyor, and Bechtler’s curator and long-time friend Michael Godfrey agrees. He insists that Bechtler’s tremendous vision is the driving force behind the project. Firebird is an example. The giant sculpture by Niki de Saint Phalle that will grace the museum’s courtyard is especially exciting to Bechtler. “Can you imagine?” Bechtler asks from the edge of his seat. “This giant, fascinating piece to draw people in. You can’t help but look at it. I mean, even the construction crew raved about it.” Godfrey elaborates, “This is what I mean. He had the idea to use this wild sculpture. It represents his unique ingenuity. He takes art as a very serious matter. Not serious in the way of being heavy, but whimsical.” I think I understand. Firebird is an amazing piece of art. A scholar could probably spend weeks analyzing its lines and movements and what statements they make. For all those who’ve never read an art book, the chicken is just as alluring, a curiosity that just might cause a visitor to step into the art world before realizing it, literally. “You can see the thing from afar and can’t help but smile. You walk in to get a closer look, and without knowing it you are standing in the plaza entrance to the museum.” Bechtler’s whimsical enthusiasm seems to be the way he’ll invite the everyday person to enjoy his highbrow collection. And it’s this opportunity that Bechtler is most grateful for. “If this is giving back to Charlotte, if it helps the city culturally…this city has been great to me.” He’s so full of earnestness. I ask what makes art so important to him in the first place. “Ahhh,” Bechtler closes his eyes and looks like he’s settling into a comfortable old armchair. “4 U 2 B Art,” he spells out. “Life is art. If you can be your original self that’s exactly what life is all about.” ~Celina Mincey |
