The Della Robbia Family

From the social media posting by Judith Dobrzynski, a journalist and art critic whom I met when she was working at the New York Times, I learned of the exhibition, “Rediscovering Della Robbia”, taking place at the Metropolitan Museum. Since it had not received the usual hoopla that covers their major exhibitions, I had missed the announcement. It opened on August 10 of this year and will stay on view until January 17, 2028. You could almost call it a semi-permanent installation. The reason the show can be up for so long is that none of the works have to be returned to a lending institution, as all the works come from the Met’s collection.

The Met has assembled what they refer to as “the largest, most important della Robbia collection in the United States”. It covers three generations of the family: Luca, Andrea and Giovanni. Pater familias, Luca (1400-1482), invented a glazed terracotta technique which was so unique that products would be immediately associated with the family. Of course, the process was copied, but everyone knew who started and mastered it.

What the Met is additionally offering this time around is a deeper look into the scientific aspect of the technical advances. The installation gives pride of place to “The Assumption of the Virgin” by Andrea della Robbia, a massive piece, 10 by 7 feet. It was donated in 1882 by one of the founders of the museum, Henry G. Marquand, and is known as the Marquand Altarpiece. It consists of 66 individual panels. After that description, you might ask why, the Met admits, it has not been on view for the past 70 years. Who knows, maybe I saw it, but I would have been 12 at the time! The reason is that only half of the altarpiece is in the show, seen against a graphic rendering of the whole. It seems that while they have the entire object, due to damage caused over the years before the piece came to the Met, the conservation department has not been able to restore all the panels.

*The white ceramic is the original

If you like Renaissance sculpture, this seems a great opportunity to learn about a lesser-known aspect in a presentation one would think you could only see in Italy.

On a personal note, a photo I love of my son, Danny, shows him some 50 years ago at the Met. He was with my wife, Penelope, who was curator there at the time. He is peeking through the mock-up of the installation of the Lehman della Robbia, where it was going to be installed off the Great Hall.

The show also gives me an excuse to tell a story I told 16 years ago about the daughter of Henry Clay Frick, Helen, always referred to as “Miss Frick.” She lived for many years in an apartment over the Frick Art Reference Library. In fact, until her death, she insisted that in the library all women wear skirts and all men wear jackets, no matter the stifling heat in summer. In our time studying, there was no air conditioning! At the entrance to the Library there was a lunette by Andrea della Robbia.

Miss Frick came to the gallery one day and asked me to find another just like it. She wanted one that she could put in her museum, the Pittsburgh Frick. As luck would have it, I found the perfect piece almost immediately, very close in size and exemplary in provenance. It had belonged to the Vanderbilts in their house at the Breakers in Newport. I was really excited to have found just what she wanted so quickly. I was mystified when she turned it down. The religious subject was similar; it was the right format; it was just perfect! Finally, in frustration, I phoned her long-time secretary, Mrs. Egan, and said that I did not know where to look if she turned down the one I had found, so could she possibly enlighten me? “Well, Mr. Stiebel,” she said. “Frankly, Miss Frick is not going to buy anything that comes from the Vanderbilts”! I am sure therein lies another wonderful story. Eventually, I found Miss Frick another della Robbia which had been deaccessioned from the Met.

As they say, what goes around comes around!