This past weekend I was in my friend Becca’s car on our way to lunch. I mentioned I was writing a column on the deep appreciation I have for UNC’s own Ackland Art Museum. After hearing this, my friend said she had never been to the Ackland. I responded in bewilderment. Why would someone not go to Ackland?
The Ackland is a unsuspecting treasure near the intersection of Franklin and Columbia streets. I have been fortunate enough to see some of the best art museums in this country, and Ackland holds a special place in my heart.
First off, Ackland upholds many of the values I believe in strongly, like the idea that quality educational material should be made freely available to all. Even if you personally do not like museums, I hope you at least can appreciate this eloquent mission statement:
“The Ackland Art Museum collects, preserves and presents great art to educate, inspire and engage the university and its regional, national and international audiences in free and open inquiry.”
The part I like most is the use of free and open in that statement. Ackland exists to provide North Carolina with fine art anyone can experience free of charge. This is the first of many things that make the Ackland special to me.
The second is the building itself. Sure, it is not much to look at: It is just an uninviting brick building. But Ackland is a hidden jewel. It is within in those lackluster brick walls that many beautiful works lie: It has the “Centaur,” a work by one of the most famous artists of all time, Pablo Picasso. It also has works from famous artists ranging from Flemish artist Peter Paul Rubens to the upcoming exhibit on the photographic work of Burk Uzzle.
The museum also features international art. It even has booklets around the exhibits that provide context on the cultures and times that influenced each piece of art — these really come in handy if you’re an information junkie like me. These booklets are almost a necessity to me now, and they provide context that many other museums fail to — even celebrated ones like New York’s Metropolitan Museum of Art.
As I walk around the galleries, seeing all of the sculptures and paintings is like looking back in time. It helps me connect to the greater ideal of a collective human narrative. Art history is our history.
My favorite piece in the collection is “San Gimignano” by Alexander Kanoldt. It is a city made of blocks on a hill; it looks familiar but still has some mystery around it.
