I was saddened and disappointed reading Kenneth Gambin’s recent letter Long Standing Commitment to Fine Arts (TMIS, 12 June), written in response to my letter published 29 May. At the same time I am heartened that my article has instigated a discussion about some of the issues I wanted to raise. I am indebted to the writers of a number of letters to this newspaper that supported my views, particularly those from Nicola Petroni (22 May), Ms Grace Cassar (19 June), Dr T. Withman (19 June), and Dr P. Sultana, whose letter appeared in last Sunday’s paper.

I would like to reply to the points made by Mr Gambin without, I hope, inciting further rancorous discussion, but rather building bridges and demonstrating that our views are not necessarily at odds.

Mr Gambin has seemingly misunderstood my statement concerning the international debate about the definition of a museum as the embodiment of art history. Clement Greenberg, Harold Rosenberg and John Berger are only three examples of outstanding scholars who have tackled this problem, and whom I wanted to introduce into this debate. The central question for me is whether museums are today merely the embodiment of a received art history, or whether conversely they have become institutions endowed with the power to generate art history. My earlier article of 15 May, linked with Nicola Petroni’s response of 22 May, attempted to debate this intriguing question. I feel Mr Gambin should have replied to both these letters, in order to present a clearer view of the arguments.

I am in full agreement with Mr Gambin’s account of the efforts made by the National Museum of Fine Arts in recent years and must apologise if my letters gave a different impression. However, if Mr Gambin reads my article, he would understand my position more clearly. He lists a number of worthwhile and entirely valid projects organised by the museum, but is this not one of the functions and responsibilities of a Museum of Fine Arts?

However, independently of this, my question did not relate directly to the museum’s specific commendable activities. I was speaking rather about its central policies and overall strategy, indeed its underlying philosophy. How can a museum transform itself from being a passive embodiment of history into an active creator of the same history? And, furthermore, we should ask if this is a valid museum function. In my article of 15 May, I was trying to bring this fascinating Rosenberg-Berger distinction into the Malta scene, rather than launch an attack on the museum, as my 29 May answer seems to have been interpreted. But mea culpa.

The museum as an embodiment of art history has nothing to do with the quantitative measurements of the building, or the number of paintings in its collection, if it is to transform itself into an institution creating art history. One of the most important aspects of this is the relationship which the people of a particular nation have with the museum, which in effect embodies their very history. To give some examples: the identity of the French people is manifestly and integrally linked with that of the Louvre. The same can be said of the Hermitage in St Petersburg and the Russian people, and the British Museum and the British nation. Does the Malta Museum of Fine Arts have this organic relationship with Maltese citizens? I believe it does not. To create such a relationship one must have curators who are conscious of this empowering possibility. If they are conscious of this potential they will ferociously defend the works exhibited in such gems of spaces.

And it is here that Sciortino’s Les Gavroches and Chekhov enter the discussion. The curatorial attitude shown towards these sculptures, and in fact Mr Gambin’s letter itself, indicate that we are far from enjoying an empathetic relationship between the museum and its people. Mr Gambin’s arguments imply that I am mistaken about the protection and care of these works. If this is the case, then once again I apologise for having dreamt it all up as a terrible nightmare. He states that the Chekhov was re-located prior to the building work. Yes, it was indeed belatedly re-located, but to a spot less than three metres from its original position. Whether it is three metres to the right or to the left, both this cast and Les Gavroches (not to mention the paintings on the floor above) were left virtually unprotected for many months, while maintenance work nearby in the museum’s courtyard crashed around them. The Chekhov, and for some time Les Gavroches, were left exposed to all the plaster dust accumulating during this building work. Such damage can unfortunately be irreversible. This was my point.

Mr Gambin says that I did not complain, but this is untrue. Whether registered or not, my complaints were loud, clear and continual. As to complaints from others, I have correspondence, as well as photographs, taken by both foreign and local colleagues, who were similarly appalled.

But why are we debating something about which we ought to be in complete agreement: the protection of works of art? In my view, if Mr Gambin is right, no love exists for our artistic heritage, and so our museum can never become an embodiment of our art history in Malta, let alone become an active creator of this very same history.

I am one of the strongest supporters and advocates of the National Museum of Fine Arts, and feel its relationship with other art institutions, particularly the University, is fundamental, as is its relationship to contemporary art. This is why I feel that such questions and such constructive debate must form a central part of the museum’s policy.

Dr Giuseppe Schembri Bonaci

Artist and Lecturer

Department of History of Art

University of Malta