The essays derive from lectures Cuno organized a Harvard under the aegis of its program for art museum directors and the Harvard Art Museums in 2001 and 2002.

Cuno's intended achievement is to reexamine a case for art museums on "the 'good' of art itself as the foundation of the public's trust." These essays deliberately avoid linking art and art museums with community or economic development, social responsibility, education or discursive interpretation. Museum practitioners steeped in the ideas of the 1980s, codified by the American Association of Museums in their 1992 publication Excellence and Equity, or the heady expansionist period of the 1990s might wonder: What else is there? Those of us who entered the museum world and became radicalized in the upheavals of the 1960s and 70s might be inclined to dismiss these essays as the dying bellows of a half-dozen retirement-age white men, the last of their particular breed of elitist museum leaders.

This would be a mistake.

There is some pin-head dancing on these pages (defining a gallery as distinct from a museum, in the English sense), but there are also some remarkably well-crafted arguments substantiating the value of the museum's collection and illuminating the public's right to understand how objects change over time, physically, and how the museum takes responsibility to reveal and mediate between different meanings—aesthetic, contextual, and moral. John Walsh and Neil MacGregor both spend their considerable intellectual wealth helping us to understand the dynamic tension created by the museums responsibility to the object, the artist, and the public. Both these men, consummate art historians each, lift us up by their very descriptions of the works of art and remind us why art matters, for its sake alone as Cuno intended.

Extending the art matters theme, Cuno encourages and reminds us to look: To trust our eyes. He persuaded me, reminded me really, to avoid the distractions of the didactic labels, the audio guides, brochures, docents and other visitors and just look. It took discipline to avert my eyes from the labels at the National Gallery of Art's recent Picasso show, but having done it I'm certain those images will stay with me longer anything I've looked at in a long while.

James Wood's essay in Whose Muse? pays particular attention to the sources of authority on which the public trust rests. Underscoring Cuno, Walsh, and MacGregor, Wood argues that "the public trust allows us first and foremost to exercise authority, which in our democracy public institutions are granted in return for service." He argues the fundament question: From where does our authority derive?

Our museums have their roots in the Age of Enlightenment. They were a "creation of the state and its aim was education. Its audience would be citizens, not believers or subjects" In America, "we have been educated to see (the arts) as expressions of individual talent and creativity protected by the Constitution from government control or manipulation." The art museum, to survive, must be seen as a "vital and reinforcing element in our egalitarian democracy."

From here Wood describes in measured detail eight types of authority, intended to shed light on the nature of the authority vested in the art museum. He defines his types carefully and spends considerable effort to support the inclusion of each, I think successfully. Woods types of authority are nourishment, expertise, hierarchy, memory, conservation, architecture, mission, and leadership. Each type of authority faces different challenges and none is sufficient without at least several others in combination.

He concludes his essays examining the two major challenges art museums face today to their authority: allowing theory to determine mission, particularly postmodern theory of which sees museums, hospitals, public schools systems and other institutions as "disciplinary devices in an extended class war." Likewise, Wood argues that art museums cannot accept "market fundamentalism" or market authority as "out ultimate source of legitimacy."

This essay carries the power and weight of the best of museum literature by reminding us of our historical antecedents, analyzing our current state, and providing a real call to future action.

Glenn Lowery and Philippe de Montebello essays close the book but by the time you get there, you've got the best of the arguments. Montebello adds authenticity to Wood's list of authorities. He takes a swipe at the rhetoric in Excellence and Equity, which does sound a little like a final bellow, and at blockbusters and over crowded galleries which causes one to wonder if he knows what is happening in the galleries at the Met, and at Tom Krens of the Guggenheim, the penultimate aggressive, risk-taking, expansionist art museum director Cuno referenced in his introduction, and the director others love to hate.

The book ends with a round table discussion where nothing new is revealed, except that there is at least one woman who can hold her own with these men: Anne d'Harnoncourt, Director, Philadelphia Museum of Art is included. I read her comments first, wondering if I could decipher a female point of view. I couldn't.

I'm very glad James Cuno took the time to bring these lectures to the printed page. He and his colleagues have provided us with evidence that the museum world is big, big place, big enough for many points of view, and they have done their work very, very well.

This review also appears on the Mid-Atlantic Association of Museums web site.