Inside the Life of a Met Museum Guard
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Alison: This is All of It on WNYC. I'm Alison Stewart. A new book explores the Metropolitan Museum of Art from a guard's POV. What it's like to be surrounded by so much beauty after a personal tragedy? What it's like to be on your feet for hours on end and to answer questions like, "Yo, is all this stuff real?" Patrick Bringley came to the job after leaving a gig at The New Yorker. He needed a change after his brother died quite young with cancer.
Grieving and looking for direction, he writes in his memoir, "Could there really be this loophole by which I could drop out of the Ford marching world and spend all day tearing an entirely beautiful one?" The question begins his tenure journey as a guard at the Metropolitan Museum of Art. He's joining us now in studio to discuss his book called All the Beauty in the World: The Metropolitan Museum of Art and Me. Patrick, welcome to the studio.
Patrick: It's wonderful to be here. Thank you.
Alison: Listeners, we're going to open our lines to you. We've got a couple of categories here. One, have you ever served as a museum guard? Maybe you're one right now or maybe you're a frequent museum-goer who wants to share a story about a guard you connected with. We want to hear your museum guard stories. Call us, 212-433-9692, 212-433-WNYC or you can reach out on social media @allofitwnyc, that is both Twitter and Instagram.
One, if you are a museum guard or ever have been one, we'd love to hear your stories. Two, maybe you've had a terrific interaction with a guard, maybe someone you connected with, let's hear those stories as well. 212-433-9692, 212-433-WNYC to be on the air, or you can reach out via social media @allofitwnyc. Part of the story is heartbreaking. Your brother died. I'm curious what made being a guard at the Met seem like the right move for you? Why did that make sense to you?
Patrick: When you're with someone who is ill for a long time, what ends up happening is you're spending all of this time in quiet rooms by their bedside. It's full of things that are very painful, but of course, very beautiful. There's a simplicity to it and stillness. The sense that life has just slowed down and you're just looking at the bare fundamental elements of it. Fundamental elements of the human drama.
When he died, I didn't particularly want to just rush back to some office job and resume working on some little project that seemed narrow-minded and trifling. By contrast, I thought, "Wouldn't it be wonderful to continue to be in silent places and beautiful places may be painful too that you see reflective in works of art in a big numinous place like the Metropolitan Museum of Art."
Alison: You made a big move. You left a job that so many people aspire to. You were working at The New Yorker. Was it about not wanting to work in the go-go world of The New Yorker and New York City literati or did you just need a break?
Patrick: I got the job, I'm 21 years old. I wasn't writing, I should say. I was a staffer. I was working in the events department. Of course, when you get that job, and you're in a skyscraper at 42nd Street in Broadway, you think, "Wow. This is something. I am something." Of course, you're not. You haven't lived any life yet. I hadn't written anything of substance. I hadn't figured out who I was.
In some ways, being in that atmosphere, I met great people. It was wonderful in a way, but also, it wasn't so conducive into figuring out what my voice is, what I think of things in an original way. Of course, I was trying to write in this sophisticated New Yorker-type style that doesn't really suit my brain, frankly. It ironically, just being in a straightforward job, telling people how to get to the Rembrandts in the bathroom was much more conducive to me, being able to think freely and discover what I think about the world.
Alison: Nuts and bolts question. What is the application process like?
Patrick: Sure. Back in 2008, when I got the job, they used to post it in the New York Times. There was an Ad in the New York Times. Then you go in and I sat in a big auditorium in the Egyptian wing, where all these people in an open house are learning that they're hiring guards, and half the room walks when they hear the hours because they were hiring for what's called the third platoon and it was 12 hours Friday, 12 hours Saturday, 8 hours Sunday then 8 hours on one other weekday. It murders your whole weekend. I stuck around and I interviewed. They're not looking necessarily for security experience. They just want people who seem dependable, and I got the gig.
Alison: I'd love you to read a passage from your book, which describes what the Met is like on Mondays.
Patrick: It's now closed Wednesdays. I should say it's a public service announcement, but yes, it was closed Mondays.
Alison: It was closed Mondays. You're very good about certain asterisks about things that have changed since when you were there. I just found this description really interesting about the Met without visitors and who's there and what the environment is like. Would you mind reading that?
Patrick: Sure. "The museum is closed on Mondays, and without the public stomping around, the Met staff comes out of their hovels. The Met employs more than 2000 people, and many look to be in their element today. Curators stand in the center of galleries conferring about what objects should go where. Technicians push art lead and carts around without fear of being bumped into. Riggers spend hours plotting how to hoist the statue with ropes and pulleys overseen by conservators who trust in their skills and appear at ease.
Everywhere one hears the beep, beep, beep of scissor lifts in motion driven by electricians [unintelligible 00:06:11] guys, painters, the type who use rollers, not fine point brushes. Some employees come in on their off day, making use of a privilege to bring along a guest or two, while curators lead big-money donors and VIPs through the museum. Guards and custodians give the grand tour to mom and dad."
Alison: I love that idea of it having its own ecosystem.
Patrick: Oh, yes. One thing people don't realize about the Met is you walk through all of its 2 million square feet of gallery space, but it's just as big below ground as it is above ground. It's a whole village down there where they have the conservation studios and there's a woodshop and a plexiglass shop. There's a printer and there's an armory for repairing a medieval helmet that goes on the frets and a locker room for more than 500 guards.
Alison: The name of the book is All the Beauty in the World: The Metropolitan Museum of Art and Me. My guest is Patrick Bringley. We've got some calls. Let's talk to Sabra, who's calling in from Manhattan. Hi, Sabra.
Sabra: Hi, I'm so happy to hear about this book. I had a dear friend named Shawn Turner who was a guard at the Met. He was also an actor. I'm a playwright and stage director. I directed Shawn in some of my own and other people's work. Shawn was everything that your guest is saying as far as being dependable, patient. It was so easy to get along with him well as far as the other actors. He didn't complain. He was always looking to see what else he could do. He was really, really a good actor. Unfortunately, he passed away last year. The last role that I saw him in was a production of Ruins.
Alison: Oh, that's a wonderful play.
Sabra: He played-- I forgot his name but the older gentleman who used to go to the inn. I just wanted to give a shout-out to Shawn Turner.
Alison: To Shawn Turner. Thank you so much Sabra for calling in. Sabra has mentioned that this gentleman's Shawn was an actor. People come from all walks of life who are guards, a former businessman from Ghana, there are teachers, there are journalists. One, why do you think it draws such a diverse group of people? Then two, what's similar about all these people?
Patrick: Not many people set out in life to be museum guards. It means that people fall all paths and come to it. A lot of guards are immigrants. They've lived all sorts of lives in their own countries. A lot of guards or artists or as she mentioned, actors that are somehow interested in the arts in some way so they're attracted to the Met. It's just all kinds of people. I can't say that there is one singular thread. It's like New York City itself, we all cannot conform to one another. A critical mass has been reached such that there's all of these different cultures within this ecosystem and the same is true of the guards.
Alison: Let's talk to Tim calling in from Brooklyn. Hi, Tim. Hey, Tim.
Tim: [inaudible 00:10:01] in the reproductions department.
Alison: You worked there?
Tim: Yes, I worked there starting in the late 70s into the 1980s. I loved walking through the exhibits on Monday. [unintelligible 00:10:16] was fantastic to be on your own. I was working late one night in the Christmas rush and I got a knock on the door and I opened the door and it was a gentleman in a black jumpsuit with a shoulder holster and a pistol. When I scraped my chin off the floor, [laughter] he was laughing and said, "I'm just looking for a restroom." I'm like, "Oh, okay." [chuckles] He came in and uses the restroom and left. It took me a day or two to figure out that Fidel Castro was in New York. It was 1979, and the Cuban Mission was across the street. He was a State Department security detail stationed on the roof of the Met at the time, is my guess, [laughs] but it was shocking.
Alison: That's a great story, Tim. Thank you for calling in. What is your cocktail party story about this Patrick, the one that makes people say, "Did that really happen?"
Patrick: Similar to him, I remember one time I was in a gallery and I saw guys that were clearly a security detail, and I'm like, "These guys are Secret Service or something." I'm looking around and I'm trying to figure out who they're following. I don't see right away because I looked right over the head of Malia Obama. It was Malia Obama in the galleries. Yes, you get dignitaries and things.
Alison: That's the most interesting day. You do address the idea of boredom. You realize, contrary to what you might think, it's not boring. This is not a boring job, that even though you have to stand for 8 to 12 hours a day, there's always something to look at. For you, what kept it from being boring?
Patrick: There was a guard who gave me the sage advice. He said, "When you get bored of the art, you look at the people. When you get bored of the people, you look at the art." There is that ability to toggle back and forth. There's also just the fact that when you work as a guard, time just has a different relationship because if you have 12 hours to kill, you're not going to kill 12 hours. You have to make peace with it. You have to realize that each of those hours is going to be a full capacious hour, and you try to use that time looking around.
Alison: It's a life lesson as well.
Patrick: Oh, yes.
Alison: Not every moment of life is going to be thrilling.
Patrick: No, absolutely. It really pays off to learn how to sit back and be a little bit passive and not be so task oriented.
Alison: You also noticed that visitors to the museum fall into certain categories. Will you share some of the categories that you have created for your, I guess, entertainment and also from observation?
Patrick: Sure. Yes. There's the true art lover who's there, and they're moving just one painting at a time, and they're reading the label and things like that. There are other people who just love the institution as a whole. They go and they know that they love this wing, and they propose to their girlfriend right over here, or whatever the case. Then there's a sightseer who's just bopping through the place, making sure that they check off Washington crossing the Delaware.
Then there's more funny characters, like, I say, the dinosaur hunter, which is going to be a parent that has young children. They're in New York City for the first time, and they think that there's just one big New York City museum that they read about. They show up and they're looking around at all the Rembrandts and they're thinking, "What the heck? Where are the dinosaurs?" You have to tell them--
Alison: [unintelligible 00:13:37] blocks. [chuckles]
Patrick: Yes, exactly. It's a natural oyster museum. Hey, go show your kids the mummies. They'll enjoy it.
Alison: Let's talk to Kathleen from New Jersey. Hi, Kathleen.
Kathleen: Hi. Thank you for having me on. I love the Metropolitan Museum of Art and The Cloisters in particular because I happened to grow up in the Washington Heights and my mother took us all the time as children. My mother, in March 4th of 2021, when COVID was very strong and the museums were beginning to open up, my husband and I, the first thing we wanted to do in public was get back to The Cloisters. My mother was very ill with cancer, and she was so happy to hear that that's what we were doing. We drop off to The Cloisters, we have our masks. We make sure that we're the first people to get in and get out because we are frightened of COVID, of course.
We walk into our favorite place, and this guard comes right up to us. We were very startled because we'd never had a guard actually even talk to us. This woman, she was so sweet, and she welcomed us, and she thanked us for coming back. She said, "May I show you some of my favorite pieces?" We looked at each other. We were thrilled. We were like, "Of course, of course." I can't tell you we were bowled over by her friendliness, her earnestness, her pride in her work, and her kindness in making us feel comfortable because of the whole COVID situation.
We were so excited. Of course, she only stayed with us a few minutes. Then we went on our way, went to the tapestries and everything else, and we drove straight home from the city to my mother's home in New Jersey. She was so happy to hear this story. She was so excited and she felt like she'd been there. I just want to say thank you to Patrick, to him and his colleagues, because you really do an amazing job and just made such a successful day for us. Thank you.
Alison: Thank you for calling in. Is there a protocol and is there an official protocol about how to engage with museum-goers Patrick?
Patrick: No, not really. You're there to protect the arts and protect the people and make sure that all is well. Different guards have different approaches to those things. I even noticed that the way I held my face. If I held my face in a certain way, people would come up and talk to me all day long if I looked warm and inviting and like, people wanted to talk to me. As the caller said, just two, three minutes at a time, you can make someone's whole day. You could also if they're a visitor to New York, you are their stand-in for a New Yorker. They'll go home and say, "New Yorkers are so friendly, this guard was telling me." I try to take advantage.
Alison: From watching people, do you understand why people want to get so close to the art?
Patrick: Oh, of course. One thing I would say is, I'm sure the people who own these statues, that they were touching them, they look like they're called out to be touched. A lot of people just don't know. They don't know that things are real. They don't know that you're not meant to touch a painting. That might shock some of the listeners here, but people who are just not familiar with the world of the arts, with New York City, or whatever the case may be, and you're just there to teach them.
Alison: What was a piece of art that really helped you during your healing process?
Patrick: Sure. I really love the old master paintings, and particularly the very old, old master paintings. 14th-century pictures that are oftentimes of a painful subject, they're of lamentations, but they're also of adorations and the passion, which is just an old word that means suffering. Looking at those pictures, they're luminously sad. They're dealing with something, death and loss, but there's also something incredibly beautiful about them. Your heart brims at the same time as your heart breaks and being in that atmosphere, that quiet, it was just very moving and very consoling.
Alison: Let's talk to David calling in from beacon. Hi, David. We've got about a minute and a half, but your story is fantastic, so go for it.
David: Museum guards or gallery attendants are often people who show great kindness and support to viewers, just like we've been hearing. When I was the director of the San Francisco Museum of Modern Art, I recall that we had an exhibition of Bill Viola's work. There was a remarkable piece in it called between Heaven and Earth, which had two black and white monitors suspended next to each other, and one showed Bill Viola's mother in coma, and the other showed his newborn son, and the grandmother never got to meet the grandson. These two images just floated with each other.
It was a beautiful and very moving work. The guards at SFMOMA at that time tended to be Philippine women guards. The Philippine community tended to be the first to go for guard openings. These women would trade so that they could have more time in that space. They would trade time off or break time because they would see how people would be moved by this, and they'd want to console them and speak to them and watch it more carefully. Great guards often help people look better. They teach them how to look at the work and show the respect that works of art require and the time that they require.
For me as a former museum director, I always believe that guards are the most important element in the ongoing day-to-day life of a museum because they are the ones who are with the art. It's a great job for writers and artists and those who want to spend time in contemplation and looking and learning how to read works of art.
Alison: The name of the book is-- Thank You, David. All the Beauty in the World: The Metropolitan Museum of Art and Me. It's by Patrick Bringley. Patrick, in our last 20 seconds, what's something someone can say to a guard to make a guard's day?
Patrick: Oh, what they can say, "Thank you." They can say, "This painting here, tell me some things about it."
Alison: [chuckles] Patrick, thanks for coming in. There's more All Of It on the way, stay with us.
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