Herb and Dorothy

Last May, I attended BookExpo America in New York, NY, a glorious four-day convention for everyone in the book biz. I was working the event for Godine, the house I interned with this spring, and one of our debut titles was Miss Etta and Dr. Claribel, an illustrated book about Etta and Claribel Cone, who purchased Matisse’s and Picasso’s work before they were discovered by mainstream collectors. One author who dropped by our booth recognized the cover’s illustration of the Cone sisters, which surprised me, seeing as no one I pitched the book to had heard of them. We got to chatting, and I commented that I wished I had the resources to collect art. She enthusiastically replied, “But you can!” She proceeded to tell me about Herb and Dorothy, a documentary about a Manhattan couple who, without any professional training, amassed a selection of art worth millions. “Watch it,” she said. “It’ll change your life.”

Well, I just watched it. Twice. Consider my life changed.

At first glance, Herb and Dorothy Vogel seem like your average elderly couple. In many of the film’s shots, they sit at the kitchen table, Herb watching TV and Dorothy fussing over her cat, Archie. But the backdrop for these scenes is anything but commonplace. The otherwise stark white wall is canvassed in paintings, sketches, and colorful paper constructions. As the camera pans through their one-bedroom apartment, you realize their place doesn’t function as a living space – it’s a sanctuary for thousands of artistic creations. They don’t own living room furniture because their stockpile takes up too much space, hence the filming in the kitchen. The real mind-boggler is that this isn’t even their full collection. They donated 4,782 pieces to the National Gallery of Art in 1992. The pieces you glimpse in the film are just what they’ve acquired since then.

Throughout the documentary, Herb and Dorothy narrate their life story. Dorothy was a librarian and Herb a postal worker who didn’t graduate high school. So how does a middle-class couple come to own one of the most renowned late 20th century art collections? By buying art no one else wanted.

Herb and Dorothy explain that when they started collecting in the 1960s, pop and abstract art were the popular styles, and experts weren’t interested in the fledgling minimalist and conceptual movements, making these productions affordable. They spent Dorothy’s salary on living expenses and Herb’s on art. Dorothy said they only had two rules for purchases: “It had to be affordable, and it had to fit in our apartment.”

The artists interviewed in the film speak not only highly of Herb and Dorothy, but also warmly, as if talking about life-long friends. And for some of them, that’s the case. A few artists said they get a call from Herb once a week just checking in on them, and one referred to them as “friend collectors, not collectors collectors.” Christo and Jean-Claude, an artist team-couple, said they even traded the Vogels art for cat-sitting. It’s inspiring too that they genuinely collect art for art’s sake. Dorothy said, “I never thought the artists we collected in those days would become so famous. It wasn’t a goal for us. We liked the work, and when they got recognition, we shared their joy. We sort of became of part of it.”

But the documentary’s point isn’t that everyone can collect art or even that everyone should learn about art. The message is more universal than that. Dorothy says it best herself: “You don’t have to be rich. You can enrich your life.”

You can watch Herb and Dorothy for yourself here: Herb and Dorothy
And check out Miss Etta and Dr. Claribel here: Miss Etta and Dr. Claribel

Fresh Ink: Ten Takes on Chinese Tradition

When Josh (aka: my Asian historian husband) said he had scored a VIP ticket (aka: free pass) to an Asian art exhibition at the MFA, I was torn. I love the MFA mucho mucho but Asian art ranks down there with Egyptian hieroglyphics. But, being the charming wife that I am, I faked some enthusiasm and went along. Thank God, because this exhibition blew my mind.

In a nutshell, 10 Asian artists selected a work of traditional Chinese art from the museum’s collection, then created a new piece as a personal response to the original work. According to the MFA, “This exhibition is about new art inspired by old art, and the complicated relationship between innovation and tradition.” Each new piece was exhibited alongside the traditional artwork, and each section included a synopsis from the artist about his/her experience. Every single one was brilliant. Liu Xiaodong chose the ink painting Erlang and His Soldiers Driving Out Animal Spirits from the Ming Dynasty, a cruel depiction of soldiers beating colorful animals out of a twisted forest, and created an acrylic painting of nine students speaking out against violence in American schools. Qu Bing fashioned his own style of English writing whose elongated lines and harsh angles look like Chinese calligraphy at first glance. It took me a solid 5 minutes to make out the words. But my favorite was Qin Feng’s Landscape of Civilization, which responded to the Fangyi-shaped Ritual Vessel, a pottery piece from the 11th century BC, thought to be used in religious ceremonies to offer food and wine to gods. But, that’s not known for sure, which Feng plays off of. He built an entire theatrical set for the vessel. Fat, squat, accordion-style books act as the audience, with room between the aisles for spectators to squeeze in and get a better look at the ink designs on the paper. Floor-to-ceiling scrolls decorated in images with ink made from tea and coffee serve as a backdrop to the stage in the center of the room, upon which the Vessel sits enclosed in a case, its bronze turning green with ancient aging. The Vessel is the sole performer, narrating its past and the things it has seen to us and the books in the audience.

The main thing I gleaned from this was that art doesn't just take skill. It demands genius. Art is not the simple act of drizzling watercolors onto a canvas or splaying crushed glass on a mirror. Don’t misunderstand that – I am not saying that Cubism doesn’t count as an art movement. What I’m saying is, although some art might look simplistic (i.e. oversized pieces of paper hanging cluttering up a room), the artist put considerable contemplation and elbow-grease into the piece (i.e. a muti-layered visual ode to an ancient way of life). It gave me a new respect for artists. That stuff is hard work.

Now for some bad news and good news (but mainly bad). This exhibition is closed now, as we attended on the last day. BUT you can experience each piece and the ideas behind them here, no VIP pass required: Fresh Ink: Ten Takes on Chinese Tradition