This piece delivers a stinging, necessary critique of a blockbuster exhibition that promises the sublime but delivers the academic. While The Met markets its first major American retrospective on Raphael as a once-in-a-lifetime gathering of masterpieces, The Pillar argues that the show is fundamentally misaligned, substituting genuine artistic power with an excessive reliance on preparatory sketches and digital projections. For the busy reader, the value here is not in learning about Raphael's biography, but in understanding how institutional inertia and a fear of empty galleries can dilute the very art they seek to celebrate.
The Illusion of Abundance
The Pillar opens with a sharp literary hook, invoking Robert Browning's poem "Andrea del Sarto" to set a tone of artistic frustration. The piece notes that Browning's protagonist singles out Raphael for a specific reason: the maxim that "less is more." The editors argue that The Metropolitan Museum of Art has failed to heed this advice, resulting in an exhibition that is "rather ungainly" despite its massive scale. The core of the argument rests on the sheer volume of objects—over 170—versus the scarcity of actual masterpieces. The Pillar reports, "for an event marketed as gathering together some of 'the artist's greatest masterpieces and rarely seen treasures', the show is extremely light on the former and rather heavy on the latter."
This observation lands with force because it challenges the modern museum's obsession with "blockbuster" status. The piece suggests that the curators are trying to fill space where the real art is missing. The Pillar notes that while it is miraculous to secure any loans from international collections, the result is a display of "second-rank works" or pieces of "primarily academic interest." This framing is effective because it shifts the reader's focus from the excitement of a new show to the disappointment of a missed opportunity. Critics might note that museums often face impossible constraints regarding the preservation of fragile works, making the inclusion of drawings a necessity rather than a choice. However, the piece counters this by pointing out that the selection of drawings often feels arbitrary rather than educational.
"This sense of trying to do more with more, while at the same time achieving less with less, is particularly frustrating given that Raphael has always been the favorite artist of this reviewer."
The Substitution of Sketches for Masterpieces
The commentary then pivots to the specific failure of the exhibition's curatorial strategy: the over-reliance on drawings to stand in for missing paintings. The Pillar highlights that the show is "extremely light" on Raphael's most famous genre, the Madonna and Child. The editors list major absences with precision, noting that masterpieces like the "Madonna of the Goldfinch" and "The Sistine Madonna" are nowhere to be found. Instead, visitors are presented with preparatory sketches for works that remain in Rome or Munich. The piece argues that this creates a frustrating experience where "one expects to turn the corner and see the altarpiece itself – except that it is still at The Vatican."
This critique is particularly potent because it questions the logic of the display. Why show a sketch for a minor work when the major work is unavailable? The Pillar asks, "why include the drawing at all?" when the painting itself is "neither in the exhibition nor hugely important." The editors suggest that the exhibition may have started as a drawing show and awkwardly morphed into a general retrospective, leaving the visitor with a collection of "hors d'oeuvres and leftovers." This argument holds up well against the backdrop of art history; Raphael was indeed a master draftsman, but his legacy is defined by his finished paintings. To focus on the sketches without the final product is to show the architect's blueprint without the cathedral. The piece connects this to a broader trend in the museum world, noting that The Met has previously mounted drawing-focused shows on Leonardo and Michelangelo, perhaps leading to a curatorial reflex to repeat the formula for Raphael.
The Digital Disappointment
Perhaps the most damning section of the commentary addresses the museum's attempt to bring Raphael's Vatican frescoes to New York. Since the actual murals in the Stanze cannot be moved, The Met installed a digital projection room. The Pillar describes this installation as "both poorly executed and in poor taste." The editors detail how the images cycle too quickly, with each fresco displayed for only about 20 seconds before fading to black. The piece argues that this prevents any real engagement with the art, noting that "one has no time to consider Raphael's intentional juxtapositions of frescoes... before the images disappear."
This is a crucial point for the modern reader to consider: the tension between accessibility and authenticity. The Pillar compares the experience to a "pop culture event where Van Gogh's artistic expressions of mental illness are transformed into an immersive backdrop for the taking of selfies." This analogy is sharp and memorable, highlighting how the technology undermines the spiritual and intellectual weight of the original works. The editors suggest that the digital display serves as a poor substitute that ultimately highlights what is missing rather than filling the void. A counterargument worth considering is that digital projections are the only way to see these works in a single location, and perhaps the goal is simply to offer a glimpse rather than a full experience. Yet, the piece maintains that the execution here is so flawed that it detracts from the exhibition's overall dignity.
"The colors as projected are too dim, the resolution is too blurry, and the cycling between the Stanze is much too fast."
The Singular Triumph
Amidst the criticism, the commentary identifies one undeniable success: the "Portrait of Baldassare Castiglione." The Pillar describes this work as "quite simply one of the greatest portraits ever painted," transcending the typical praise for Renaissance art. The editors focus on the psychological depth of the painting, noting how Raphael captured the "faintest note of melancholy" in Castiglione's eyes. The piece argues that this painting embodies the concept of sprezzatura—a "quietly effortless grace in which one stands out by not calling undue attention to oneself."
This section serves as a reminder of why Raphael remains relevant. The editors note that the painting is "entirely in keeping with the writer's idea of sprezzatura," creating a dialogue between the subject's character and the artist's technique. The Pillar reports that despite the crowds and the noise of tourists, the painting commands attention. This single success proves that when the museum gets it right, the impact is profound. It suggests that the exhibition's failure is not in the quality of Raphael's work, but in the curation that buried the best pieces under a mountain of secondary material. The editors conclude that seeing the painting in person proves "the old adage that there is no substitute for seeing a great work of art in person."
Bottom Line
The Pillar's critique is a masterclass in holding institutions accountable for their curatorial choices, arguing that a show on Raphael should prioritize his finished masterpieces over his sketches. The piece's strongest asset is its willingness to call out the "ungainly" nature of the exhibition when the marketing promises the sublime. Its biggest vulnerability is a potential bias toward traditional viewing experiences, which may overlook the educational value of seeing the full spectrum of an artist's process. For the reader, the takeaway is clear: the Met's exhibition is a mixed bag where the few masterpieces on display are worth the trip, but the overall experience is hampered by a lack of focus and an over-reliance on digital substitutes.