In 2002, the Barnes Foundation, a Pennsylvania-based organization, became the talk of the art world when its new direction clashed starkly with the wishes of its deceased founder, Albert Barnes. Barnes left clear instructions as to how his art was to be presented — instructions that could not weather the economic insecurity the foundation was facing. Who could have anticipated that the board's decision to alter the display and move the collection to a gallery in downtown Philadelphia would lead to lawsuits, infighting and a play, performed all across the United States and even in South Korea.

Loosely based on these events, Permanent Collection, written by Thomas Gibbons, has made its way to Main Street Theater. In this production, directed by Associate Artistic Director Andrew Ruthven, the story of an eccentric and exacting millionaire's parting gift to the world — his foundation — exposes the underlying racial prejudice to which its founder was oblivious. Well-rounded performances and relevant, insightful conversations about the impact of art and art's role in shaping perception elevate this story above the ideologue shouting match that can plague stories like this.
The set pieces are wheeled off and on stage. a not-consistently effortless activity in preparation for some scenes. The use of interview clips in transitions was most useful to move the plot along while waiting for the next scene. But sometimes the interlude music would arrive more as elevator music than story-relevant sounds. At times, the transitions lulled the action rather than paced the drama.

Despite the clunky transitions and palpable shift in momentum from Act One to Act Two, the experience of watching this show reignites the love for art. It calls attention to the importance of art and what is privileged to be on display and which art languishes in the basement.

Paintings from Van Gogh, Cezanne, Renoir and other European artists hang from the ceiling, enclosing the arena stage on all four sides. The artists' names most popularly known hang while anonymous African art sits.  Sterling North, played convincingly by Steven J. Scott, is the newly appointed Black director of the Morris Foundation. After going through the archives, North discovers the African art not on display and spearheads an initiative to add eight African pieces to the gallery display. He wants more African and Black visibility in the gallery. The problem is that founder Alfred Morris stipulated in his will that the display is never to be changed. Before North brings his proposal to the board, he shares it with the white Director of Education, Paul Barrow (Dwight Clark), who vehemently rejects the proposal saying it would go against Morris' will.

The foundation becomes a battleground for two men to negotiate the powers of their own egos. Appealing to ideas like institutional integrity or inclusivity to buttress their stances, both men rely on abstractions to obscure their own desire to transcend their limited powers. Deep down, Paul believes he was overlooked for this position. He's fighting Morris' choice of successor while repeating he's fighting for Morris' vision and will for the foundation.

Sterling, so used to racism from his previous experience in corporate America, wants to finally show off his authority and the impact he should have had all along. Sterling's ego would have been more pronounced if the direction leaned more into his flashiness. He drives a Jaguar. He and his wife live in an upper-crust suburb. His lifestyle was one big middle finger to the white world.
A stronger focus on North's career aspirations could have demonstrated this story as both about the racial politics of what's presented in art spaces and two men's confrontation of this conflict through their own unrealized dreams. It's possible Ruthven didn't want Sterling's wealth or class to eclipse the racial advocacy.

This play narratively excels when Sterling and Paul lock horns. Scott and Clark build off each other brilliantly and their commonalities bubble to the surface although they stand in their opposing corners. Neither of them allow the other's argument to land. Each of them set on their own moral rightness. Both of them put their own desires over the longevity of the foundation.

While Paul is stuck in the idyllic version of the foundation as a race-neutral, politically-neutral middle-ground where art is art, Sterling can't help but ask why can't there be more African Art shown? To place in a will that the display should never change is to definitively state that the African Art in the basement can never be displayed. The museum's offerings can never include more diversity. Is that not discriminatory? Is that not grounds for a lawsuit to challenge that part of the will?

Local journalist, Gillian Crane (Shannon Emerick) reports on the drama through various interviews she holds and second-hand gained quotes she uses to upend the lives of the two fighters. Emerick gives a subtly crafty performance of Crane. She slips in and out of being an advocate for the truth or the purveyor of gossip and salacious accusations.  Who knows whether she's coming as villain or hero when she arrives on scene?

In one of the final moments of the play, Kanika (Krystal Uchem), Sterling's former assistant, tells Paul what it was like for her to visit a Black Expo. Paul had been educating her about all the white expressionist art displayed in the gallery. When she observes the Black art, she relates to the women in the canvas and their skin, but there's a feeling the art in the gallery is better. What she and Paul had initially thought was fun education was actually a sort of brainwashing. By learning about white art, it made it difficult for her to see herself and connect with herself in the Black art. The seeds of cultural inferiority were planted. It was no one's direct intent.
Art is a unifying good. It has the ability to link us across place as watching a play set in Pennsylvania takes us to Pennsylvania. It links us across time as watching a play set in 2003 and takes us to 2003. Above all, it links us across perspectives as a play written by Thomas Gibbons, a white man, takes us into Gibbons' perspective. All Sterling was asking for were eight additional Black perspectives for which he had to endure lawsuits, protests and obstruction.

Performances continue through March 5 at 7:30 p.m. Thursdays through Saturdays and 3 p.m. Sundays at Main Street Theater - Rice Village. 2540 Times. For more information, call 713-524-6706 or visit mainstreettheater.com $35-$54.