When were you last in IMMA, the Irish Museum of Modern Art? It's a question a prominent arts figure has been asking people she meets.
So you might not be crazy about contemporary art, she suggests, but maybe you drop in occasionally just to feel the buzz and see what all the fuss is about? To meet friends for lunch? To spend a contemplative few hours refreshing the spirit, having a mental spat with an artist, marvelling at someone else's daft notion of what constitutes art?
If your answer is "two or three years ago for the Andy Warhol", "can't remember", or "what buzz?", that's all right, she says. There are plenty like you, not all of them ignorant philistines.
The fact is that despite an international explosion of interest in modern art in recent years, despite the greatest tourist and economic boom in the State's history, people are not flocking to IMMA. Attendances have fallen from a peak of 330,000 in 1997/98 (the Warhol blockbuster effect) to some 260,000 in 1999/2000 - well under half that for the National Gallery.
On Monday, the museum's director, Mr Declan McGonagle, returns to court to pursue his contractual right to remain at IMMA for as long as he chooses. Meanwhile, many in the arts community grow increasingly discomfited by the highly personalised campaign being waged by his supporters both here and abroad; by the public threats to withdraw collections from the museum - which are gifts to the Irish people they point out, and not to any individual; and above all by the resulting damage being wrought to an institution whose existence depends on the forbearance of the Irish people.
Lost in the scrum is the significance of the institution itself and its impact if any, on the average punter in its 10-year existence. As Mr McGonagle noted in a letter to the Irish Times eight years ago, such a museum has a responsibility for "attracting significant attendance".
So how attractive is IMMA for the ordinary taxpayer, mildly curious about what his hard-earned cash (£4 million this year, £2.7 m last year) has been funding up there in Kilmainham?
A bitterly cold lunchtime in January should be a good time for our taxpayer to check it out. What does he (or she) expect? Initially, somewhere warm and welcoming to have a good, wholesome lunch, to buy a few off-beat postcards or an arty tie in the shop, to chat to a friendly staff member about what's coming up; then maybe - having had his appetite whetted - even to go and peruse a few works of art.
In this, its 10th anniversary year, he might also expect some flags and hints of celebration, some promotional splashes about the provocative delights doubtless planned for this momentous year, a place buzzing with a sense of anticipation.
What he finds is rather different. As he drives in, he finds a building site. (There is a lot of work going on). Unsure where to go, he parks up near the gate, enters the building by the "front" door and finds himself on a long, bone-chilling corridor, with direct access - eventually - to the cafe.
He pays for some efficiently dished-up, dreary lasagne (there are only seven or eight people in the place), and notes while heading for the tables that while they're clean on top, underneath they could benefit from the attentions of a power-hose. So he bolts the food down and pops into the adjacent museum shop.
Here, he finds stands of Bord Failte kitsch (probably relics of a John Hinde exhibition, now divorced from their context), cards that are available all over town, some catalogues and books which, bizarrely, include the entire Little Book of . . . series, incorporating two which feature the word "bollocks".
He wanders on through the corridor towards what he takes to be the main entrance off the courtyard, guarded by great, forbidding doors, and a reception desk located away to one side. This has a copy of The Irish Times laid open on it, suggesting that someone will return, maybe sometime soon.
This is the point where our taxpayer should climb the industrial stairs in front of him, leading to what is doubtless an important exhibition. But by now, he is losing the will to live. He heads back to the shop and asks the arty-looking young man there about plans for this anniversary year.
"You'll get a leaflet at reception", the assistant replies. Our man stands his ground; the assistant produces the leaflet.
"This only goes up to April," says our taxpayer, "have you nothing for the whole year?"
"No," says the assistant.
"This is the 10th anniversary year, isn't it?" insists our man, determined to elicit a response.
"Yes," says the assistant.
End of exchange.
Should any of this matter?
It matters. Our taxpayer will not be rushing back; he will not be dragging outof-town visitors up there next summer; next time he hears of a hefty State subvention going to IMMA, he will not be whooping with glee.
It also matters a surprising amount to many in the tiny, well-travelled arts community, who are acutely aware that a good cafe and a welcoming ambience are key to the success of any visitor attraction, however spectacular the exhibitions.
And how spectacular are the IMMA exhibitions? Have they inspired debate, created a buzz, engaged the public (think of the Tate and the "isn't-all-modern-artrubbish" rows), drawn in a new kind of art lover? Has the museum succeeded in attracting the very best of international contemporary art or becoming a launch pad for Irish artists? Can the wooden hat moulds of society milliner Mr Philip Treacy constitute the kind of prestigious exhibition one would expect to coincide with the actual anniversary?
While many would dispute all this quite fiercely, few are prepared to say so on the record.
Mr Michael O'Reilly, a board member of the National Gallery and chairman of its finance and organisation committee, is one of the few: "IMMA has been very innovative in its community and education programmes," he says, "but there is little evidence of ambition, or strategic intent, in expanding the audience in Ireland for contemporary art, or putting Irish artists on the world stage . . .
"Contemporary art has acquired a phenomenal popularity in Europe and America in recent years. Some might say it's ephemeral. But something significant is happening in the contemporary art world that people are responding to in vast numbers. But it isn't happening here. In fact, the reverse."
FOR all the popular success of the Warhol exhibition, such a blockbuster event "is not Declan's thing", says a McGonagle supporter. As The Irish Times art critic Aidan Dunne pointed out in a recent article, Mr McGonagle's preference is for a form of art that comes close to "the continuation of sociology by other means".
The question is, can such a philosophy translate successfully into a large-scale museum setting? Have IMMA's superb outreach programmes superseded what many would perceive to be the proper objectives - excellence and the primacy of art - for such an institution?
"The danger of such a strong accent on community art is that it can be about creating other types of small elites and nothing to do with art," says an arts figure.
Mr O'Reilly agrees: "It may be that the very laudable intention to democratise art, which I think is what IMMA has aspired to, has simply resulted in creating new elites. There is no evidence that the ostensibly egalitarian approach of IMMA is, in reality, bringing more people around to the enjoyment of art. If it is to be judged by its own count of visitor numbers, IMMA is in a fairly serious state of decline. So, both qualitatively and quantitatively, there are questions to be answered."
In a debate that has focused almost exclusively on personalities, many in the art world, fearful of a public backlash, are praying for a return to these questions, the "normal" kind for any healthy cultural institution. But not surprisingly, developments at IMMA and the implications for such directors' contracts are being watched with considerable interest by a number of public bodies and cultural institutions.
A previous IMMA board member recalls how six months into the board's stewardship, a second five-year contract for the director was announced as a fait accompli.
"In that situation you're powerless. Supposing a board member wants the director to put a greater emphasis on fundraising for example . . . What sanction do you have if he simply ignores you? None."
Mr O'Reilly agrees: "Museum boards are no different to any others. The board decides on policy and strategy - the vision for the organisation - and appoints a chief executive to implement the vision. A board that cannot appoint a chief executive of its choice is in serious difficulty. You either make the best of a bad job or you do something about it. Either way you are likely to run into problems."
