Time is money, but the Calatrava is art

was feeling like The Daily Reporter was getting a little cozy with C.G. Schmidt and the Milwaukee Art Museum.

We kept coming up with these glowing reviews of The Calatrava's progress. We even published a special section for the opening of the museum's construction photography exhibit that was linked to the construction.

I received e-mails from readers containing links to the museum and C.G. Schmidt Web sites. ("Look what they're doing now!") I intercepted e-mail correspondence among Wisconsin contractors marveling at the architects' and contractors' innovation and workmanship.

 

Nothing makes a reporter dig for dirt like positive publicity.

We might have missed it, but we couldn't find any.

At first, I thought we might be on to something.

"I hear it's running way over budget," I heard. "It's running late."

OK, so that gave us something to go after. A budget on a private project is difficult to get, but off-schedule was easier. The museum, indeed, will open months later than the "Opening New Year's Day, 2000" that once was advertised on a sign at the site.

So I went to several sources who vaguely conceded that "Yes, the museum addition will be more expensive than expected" and "That's right, it won't be opening Jan. 1, 2000."

I marched right out to see Steve Chamberlin, president of C.G. Schmidt. I said, "Steve, is the art museum way over budget? Is it running far off schedule?"

I've got to admit that I thought, "Yep, that oughta do it. Now we'll get the whole story."

What I got was a sigh, a little obfuscation about the budget and a short speech that sticks with me: "You know, it's sculpture," Chamberlin said. "It's a work of art, a symbol of the city, a giant concrete bird with carbon-fiber wings. It's the first time anyone has ever tried this. It's world-class. It's not a school or a hospital or a mall. It's someone's vision."

On my way back to the office, I thought of Chartres, my favorite cathedral in France. From outside town, it looks like a giant ship floating in a sea of wheat. Close in, its 150 stained-glass windows cast green, blue and red light on worshipers.

I remembered that it took 399 years to complete Chartres. I imagine that somewhere along the line a pope or two might have wondered: "Is this the last great homage we'll be able to afford?" Maybe a pastor asked: "Will this be ready by Easter?"

The Calatrava isn't a great cathedral, but it reflects great vision and the museum's gift to Milwaukee. The usual measures of success don't work here.

- Liz Oplatka