What need do we have for words when we have paintings, particularly the kind of lyrical and abstract works that Danielle Frankenthal offers us in her current exhibition? These are often extravagant, gestural works that are abundant in high color and visual movement. What challenges the writer is to order his thoughts about paintings that seems to ask us to forsake cognition in favor of pure sensation.
Danielle Frankenthal, Mist #2, 2024, acrylic paint, oil stick on acrylic resin, 48 x 48 in.
But despite the pleasures of innocent, sensuous looking that these paintings afford, our enquiring mind is nonetheless activated. First, there is the question of the unusual support of these works – square sheets of clear acrylic resin that are joined into a single box. Acrylic paint and oil stick have been applied to the inner and outer surfaces of the plastic panels, resulting in a kind of painterly diorama or stage set that deploys multiple scrims. The effect is to deconstruct the traditional layering of a painting into discrete planes, that coalesce into a comprehensible, if unstable image.
Danielle Frankenthal, L’Heure Bleu, 2023, acrylic paint, oil stick on acrylic resin, 50 x 50 in.
This effect of suspended marks is essential to these paintings, creating a kind of holographic presence in which the painted gestures shift from planar to dimensional space. Our second question is how this curious phenomenon is part of Frankenthal’s expressive endeavor. The exhibition has work from two series, Clouds and Gardens. The former benefits from the floating quality of the multiple planes of depths in the paintings, to evoke fugitive color and atmospheric vapors.
Danielle Frankenthal, L’Apresmidi d’une Faune, (Diptych), 2024, acrylic paint, oil stick, metal gilding on acrylic resin, 50 x 50 in.
A prime example is Mist 2, with its upper expanse the color of agitated fog, above a lower, coppery register. In the Clouds paintings, at times light is conjured literally through the use of pearlescent and metallic pigments. The many qualities of light constitute a continual focus in Frankenthal’s work, here intimating the diffused illumination of dawn.
A painting of the Gardens series, L’Apresmidi d’une Faune, is a diptych whose title simultaneously suggests the Mallarmé poem, the Debussy symphonic work which it inspired, and the ballet of the same name by Nijinsky. The double painting repeats, with variations, a pastoral setting with a mottled sky, a gilded glow of light, and a violent red passage that suggest the satyr’s sensual exploits. Leaping arabesques in black oil stick capture the sense of intoxicated dance.
Danielle Frankenthal, Garden 3, 2024, acrylic paint, oil stick on phosphorescent acrylic resin, 50 x 50 in.
Garden 3, with its turbulent sky, rising land, and turquoise vegetation, is the most recognizable landscape of the series. It becomes a terra incognita by an overlay of wild, wind-blown lines and the use of phosphorescent acrylic resin. This glow-in-the-dark effect reminds us that this artist is both a seeker after original expression, and part of a lineage of painting that draws its inspiration from nature, stretching back to Monet, and moving forward through Joan Mitchell and Helen Frankenthaler.
Danielle Frankenthal: Playing with Light, Curated by Lilly Wei, through April 5, 2025, L’SPACE Gallery, New York, 524 W. 19 St., New York, NY
The entire Aga Khan Museum was designed around light, so as its 10th anniversary approached the curators decided to celebrate it with an exhibition entirely about light.
Light is central to the museum and visitors experience it right away upon entering the building. In the hallway, To Breathe, Korean artist Kimsooja’s site-specific installation takes us to a different dimension, a dimension of magical light. The windows are covered with diffraction grating film and as daylight passes through it reveals rainbows throughout the space. The magic of this work is in making the invisible visible. Coloured light always amazes and fills us with joy. This kind of play with light can be found on many levels of the museum, shining through windows and creating its own ‘artworks’ on walls and floors.
Kimsooja, To Breathe, 2015, Site-specific installation consisting of diffraction grating film. Commissioned by Centre Pompidou-Metz. Courtesy of Institut français/Année France Corée and Kimsooja Studio. Photography Credit: Jaeho Chong.
There is nothing better than light as the focus for the anniversary exhibition. There are so many kinds: the light of the sun, the moon and the light inside us, the light we absorb and the light we radiate. The exhibition titled, Light: Visionary Perspectives, is an amazing combination of scientific and spiritual approaches, involving both historical and contemporary visions.
Tannis Nielsen’s, mazinibii’igan / a creation (2020) is the first piece I see. The Anishinaabemowin word ‘mazinibii’igan’ means “a drawing, a sketch, or a design.” It is a continuous video installation with many possible beginnings and endings. The installation is a result of Tannis Nielsen’s research into electromagnetic energies. She discovered that residual radiation stems from the Big Bang, believed to be the origin of the universe. Stepping into the installation I am enveloped by darkness. It must be the beginning of the universe when nothing existed. Then some weak light grows, and I hang on to it with hope, as any little light is better than total darkness. Suddenly bright lights with impressive soundtracks surround me and it is almost too much, but I lose myself in this otherworldly installation and stop thinking. It surrounds me. As the story told by Elder Marie Gaudet (Turtle Clan Anishinaabe from Wikwemikong), a knowledge keeper and practitioner of healing songs and ceremonies, the installation invites us to reimagine creation. So, it seems I am inside the process of the creation that started, as the narrative says, with a single light emerging from the darkness. Am I swallowed by this installation? I feel I’m in the middle of it, totally absorbed by the darkening and lightening universe. It is a very complex world where dark, light, sound, narrative and music work together perfectly as I become part of the creation. It feels so good, uplifting and I am happy and amazed. Will I ever be able to leave it or do I want to stay inside and see what comes next? It is pulsating with energy, and I feel absorbed in it, an almost physical sensation. It is also very spiritual and mesmerizing. It was hard to distance myself from this installation and I needed some time to re-enter reality.
Tannis Nielsen, mazinibii’igan / a creation, 2020. Digital video, artist’s own footage and derivative. Story and narration by Marie Gaudet. Courtesy of Tannis Nielsen. Photography credit: Aly Manji
What I saw next, I can barely call ‘reality’ as Anish Kapoor’s two mirrors, facing each other from opposite walls, playing a game with me, challenging my perception. It is about what we see or what we think we see. Long ago Muslim philosophers thought that the light came out from our eyes. In the main floor exhibition room, the book Opticae Thesaurus addresses this idea. The title of the book is a Latin translation of Kitab Al-Manazir (Book of Optics) by 10th-century Muslim scholar and mathematician Ibn al-Haytham. He revolutionized the field by arguing that sight is made possible by light traveling to the eye, rather than by light emanating from it. His discovery influenced the western world as well and led to the development of the camera obscura and, ultimately, the modern camera.
Kapoor’s two mirrored disks, one made of steel and the other of wood and lacquer, remind me of our eyes. From their concave surface they show a view we don’t expect, seeing ourselves and the space in a different way. It is very complex. First, from a distance you see yourself upside down, then, as you get a closer look, you are standing on the ground again. The mirror is creating its own reality. Mirrors in art often denote self-reflection, so what’s happening here? Which one of the images is real or is all just visual illusion? As Bita Pourvash, Associate Curator, Aga Khan Museum says, “we also must understand that we don’t only see with our eyes but with our mind and heart and how they are connected in creating an image.”
I visited the exhibition a day before it opened, and the light was somewhat erratic, some areas a little darker. Stepping out of the view of the mirrors and looking back as they were reflecting on each other I wondered if, somehow, they communicate with each other in the dark when no one is around, sharing their experiences of us and how their tricks confused us.
Anish Kapoor,Mirror (Mipa Blue to Organic Green), 2016. Stainless steel and lacquer. On loan from George Yabu and Glenn Pushelberg. Photography credit: Connor Remus.
The title A Thousand Silent Moments (Rain Forest) reminds me of Gabriel García Márquez’s book, One Hundred Years of Solitude, that also takes place in a rain forest. It is a magical story like Anila Quayyum Agha’s. Inspired by objects and paintings in the museum collections, American-Pakistani artist, Anila Quayyum Agha, created a lacquered steel and LED installation. On the walls and on the floor, we see a series of laser cut patterns of flowers, leaves and animals from various cultures and historical periods projected from the glass box in the middle of the room. A bright green light surrounds me. At first, I thought, how peaceful. Indeed, it is beautiful; it is paradise or the garden of Eden — harmony is created. Then I recognize that my shadow becomes part of the installation, appearing on the floor and on the walls. The installation is built on contrasting elements: light and shadow. They play, they change as the movement continues. It reminds me of lying under a large tree on a summer day, looking at the light coming through the leaves. It is, like this installation, wonderful and peaceful; I could enjoy it all day long. However, we all know that where there is light, there is shadow, as shadow can’t exist without light. As I walk further into the room and look in every possible direction, I become even more aware of my shadow becoming an interactive part of this installation. There is a very intense movement of images and light, everything is changing. The harmony I felt at first, suddenly breaks. I feel the opposing forces, light and shadow, including my own, as though they are in a dialog. As Quayyum Agha says about her work, “light and pattern are intentionally utilized to create ‘perceptually soothing and conceptually challenging environments.”
Anila Quayyum Agha,A Thousand Silent Moments (Rain Forest), 2024. Laser-cut resin-coated aluminum, Light Bulb. Lacquered steel and LED bulbs. Commissioned by the Aga Khan Museum. Photography Credit: Aly Manji.
The tower-like installation, The Matriarch: Unraveled Threads, by Montreal-based Cameroonian-Belgian artist Mallory Lowe Mpoka contains more than 300 panels. The artist decided to create it when her grandmother passed away and she unexpectedly became the matriarch of her family.
The lighthouse is built from various materials and uses many mediums, like analog photography, screen printing, photo transfer, embroidery on dyed cotton and linen with red earth pigments, acrylic, paper, and steel. The fabric came from her family’s workshop in Cameroon and was dyed there with the earth. The photographs come from different sources, combining self-portraits with images from ancestral archives as well as contemporary portraits. The stories created by them are hypothetical, and do not follow any linear timeline. Together they create a circle, much like a tribal circle, where the main idea is to be together, belonging to the tribe and its history. The artist addresses the idea of how family continues to live in you and in generations to come. Not just your genes but your memories and cultural inheritance include more of the past, present and future than your individual time allows you to experience. The responsibility is to remember, share and pass down your cultural and historical inheritance. As the lighthouse guides people safely to shore, your guidance can influence coming generations to remember who they are and to make the right choices. It also reminds me of the symbol of a single candle shining in the dark. While there may be other lit candles as well, they can’t take away the light from yours. The images are illuminated from inside the lighthouse. Light, besides being a physical element in this artwork, also becomes a metaphor for enlightenment of the heart and mind.
Mallory Lowe Mpoka, The Matriarch: Unraveled Threads, 2021-2024. Analog photography, screen printing, photo transfer, embroidery on dyed cotton and linen with red earth pigments, acrylic, paper, and steel. Courtesy of the artist. Photography Credit: Rory Kearney-Fick.
Phillip K. Smith III’s Two Corners is a 3D work of colour-choreographed large reflective panels placed in two opposing corners of the room. It is a very intensive experience as I become a part of it when stepping into its universal space, surrounded by its ever-changing colours and interplaying light. Infinity is the right word to describe this installation. When I turned from one wall to another it seemed to open, giving me the feeling that I could walk further without any limit. The desert-like landscape horizon is confusing. I think it made me understand what a mirage really is. The changing of colors further deepens this impression. There is a blue sky filling the room for a short time, then the redness of a sunset or the greenness of fields. Sometimes the colors appear at the same time overlapping and framing each other. This shiny orgy of colors is bigger than my ‘perception’ and addresses the unconscientious layers of my brain. They instill different moods and feelings, turning my attention to these underrated territories of our minds.
Phillip K. Smith III, Two Corners, 2022. Aluminum, glass, LED lighting, electronic components, unique colour choreography. Courtesy of artist. Photography Credit: Aly Manji.
As Marianne Fenton, Special Projects Curator, Aga Khan Museum summarized, “The installations and objects in the exhibition explore our shared humanity, encouraging us to experience light through the perspectives of these artists who have captured its emotional, spiritual, and physical presentations.” The exhibition, Light: Visionary Perspectives focuses on the power of light over darkness. Exploring both historical and contemporary understanding and creative interpretations of light. It shows us the possibility of new, hopeful horizons.
Images are courtesy of Aga Khan Museum.
*Exhibition information: Light: Visionary Perspectives, till April 21, 2025, Aga Khan Museum, 77 Wynford Drive, Toronto. Museum hours: Tue & Thu – Sun 10:30 am – 5:30 pm, Wed 10 am – 8 pm.
(Republication of a dArt magazine Winter 2017/18 article.)
Collector Paul Gurtler seated before part of his collection. Paintings from left to right by: YM Whelan, New York artist Dulcie Dee, Blaise Delong, and Steve Rockwell
Paul Gurtler and I met about eight years ago or so, through Steve Rockwell, the intrepid leader of this publication and artist in his collection. At a little get together last May at Paul’s Manhattan place, the three of us conspired to put in motion this profile.
As a young man in the early 70’s, the company that Paul worked for sent him to Tokyo for a few years which is where the whole art collecting bug caught him; first as a maker and collector of ceramics, then as a collector of prints. He still has a piece or two from back then, but the majority of pieces he gave away to admirers of the works. By the mid-70’s Paul’s company moved him to NYC where he was at the center of the art world with all the art celebs, legendary gallery owners, flashy headline making auctions, glitzy openings, the attitudes, big money and the art itself – it just wasn’t for Paul. It wasn’t until some years later when Paul went to Toronto on business that he found the art, artists and community that he was looking for and began to collect in earnest.
When he began going to Toronto Paul regularly visited the Fran Hill Gallery and Moore Gallery, where at both these and other galleries, the owners and staff were welcoming and engaged with all the people coming into their gallery. This was much different from Paul’s experience with NYC galleries where a visitor first had to pass scrutiny before anyone would utter a word. (This has changed a bit in NYC now, just a bit.) Something that was unexpected was that artists and galleries were all referring him to each other; artists to go see another artist’s studio or exhibit, or a gallery suggesting he might like the work of an artist at another gallery. (Happens a bit in NYC, again, just a bit) He was so impressed with everyone’s generosity that at one gallery he purchased three large paintings by Robert Chandler and YM Whelan, regardless of the fact that he had a typical small NYC apartment with no place to hang them.
Steve Rockwell, Color Match Game: John Jackson vs Tim Deverell, 2004, printer’s ink on paper, 24” x 24”
As we were going back-n-forth talking about the paintings, which artists he doesn’t like and an out of nowhere switch about his very different collection in Bermuda, I felt there was more to investigate as to where his real interest in art and to collect came from. Now Paul is a rather private person, so I was very surprised during our interview when, without insistent prodding from me, he just opened up and started talking about his father. How his father would come home with various antiques, classical and traditional paintings and other objects d’art, that he bought to quickly turn around to sell them. In today’s parlance Paul’s father would have been called a “picker,” someone who scouts out the local auctions and house sales for hidden gems to sell to the bigger auction houses, antique stores, designers and other clients.
Those pieces changed almost weekly, since these were pieces meant to be sold for a profit and not to collect and hold onto just for the sake of admiring the art. However, during the pieces’ stay in the home Paul’s father would share with him thoughts on why he bought the pieces. Paul said he talked about craftsmanship, technique, quality, and beauty, ideals that an individual artist worked at to create something unique and special. Ideals that only in recent years’ people have started to discuss and consider within modern and contemporary art. The time spent with his father provided Paul with a true appreciation and understanding for art, and for the artist. For Paul, it is not only about the art and being able to appreciate it, it’s also about his connection to the life and memory of his father. As he was thinking back to his past from his current vantage point as a collector, he stopped just briefly then continued with a knowing look saying that his collection, how he thinks about art, and his relationships with artists, would make his father pleased.
YM Whelan, Untitled, oil on canvas, 70” x 60”
The majority of Paul’s collection is primarily Canadian art, more precisely 40 out of 50 paintings are by Toronto based artists and except for a few pieces it is almost exclusively painting. Artists include: Robert Bachalo, Robert Chandler, Tim Deverell, Ric Evans, Steve Driscoll, Ric Evans, Marianne Fowler, Steve Rockwell, and YM Whelan. In a basic overall description, the collection is comprised of abstract pieces with an inclination towards the geometric and minimal with a richness and vitality of color. While we were talking, I realized that after numerous visits, just about each piece has a certain quality of texture to it. Whether it is Nathan Slate Joseph’s (one of the few non-Canadians) incredibly textured metal painting/sculpture pieces or Whelan’s abstract geometric paintings where the slightly raised brush strokes are visible, there is always texture.
Paul does not buy for investment and has no interest in buying at auction because that is just a business transaction. He has no buyer’s remorse, as he called it when someone buys a piece on a whim only to resell it because they just don’t like the piece. The big art names of Basquiat, Hirst, Koons, Warhol, and the like, he lumps all together as not exactly artists, one he specifically called a fraud, since there are squads of assistants that make their art and there is more concern with market value than with real art ideals. He understands “flipping” as another business transaction, but not something a real collector or appreciator of art would ever do.
From left to right Robert Chandler, Paul Gurtler, Steve Rockwell with YM Whelan in front, photographed at Whelan’s Yumart Gallery in Toronto
There’s an old saying that there are two types of collectors: one who buys with their eyes meaning it’s about the art and the other buys with their ears meaning they hear the buzz, who else is buying, the sound of money. Paul definitely collects with his eyes, and I would say his heart. Collecting gives him great pleasure and satisfaction, but even more it’s the experiences and interactions with the people involved that matter as much as the art. Having that interaction with the art, artist, gallery and others, seeing the development over the years and of their friendships, that is what truly matters. The piece of art itself becomes a snapshot that holds Paul’s memories over the years; visiting the gallery or studio, talking with everyone over dinner, learning why the artist made that piece that way, new pieces being made, all building new art memories upon his earliest memories.
It’s also about living with the art, many of the pieces in his collection have been with him for 15 years or more. Pieces do not go to storage or circulate on and off the wall, but in full view for all to see and a chance for him to share the art and his memories. After traveling on business for weeks or lifting his head out of spreadsheets, Paul looks at the pieces and thinks about those good times. As Paul says of his collection, giving them a human presence, they are all “good room-mates.”
(Republication of a dArt magazine Summer 2003 article.)
Young, attractive, and successful executive at an assets management firm in New York, Gail Rothman, is also an enthusiastic collector of art. She started collecting in 1998 and has already acquired over one hundred pieces, but she still humbly labels herself a neophyte. She approaches her “vice” passionately and hopes to follow in the steps of her two idols, Dr. Alfred C. Barnes and herbert Vogel. Barnes, a very wealthy man, collected according to his personal intuitions regardless of current trends, and was proven by time to have been astute in his selections. And she emulates Herb Vogel because he amassed a legendary collection on his postman’s salary, demonstrating that a great collection can be assembled on a limited budget.
Christopher Chambers:Do you collect current fine art exclusively?
Gail Rothman: My collecting criteria is that the piece must have been made from 1990 onwards, the artist still has to be alive, and the proceeds – these are primary sales – either has to benefit the artist or a charity that the artist has designated. I am currently not doing anything in the secondary market, so in a sense I am acting as a patron.
CC:Who do you buy from?
GR: Benefit auctions, artists directly, or through a gallery – a dealer.
CC:It seems like you really launched into collecting with a vengeance. What precipitated this? What was the impetus?
GR: A lot of white walls in my apartment. I had been a member of museum groups at the Museum of Modern Art and the Guggenheim, and I said, “Ooh, you know maybe it’s a little embarrassing for people to come over to my house and there’s no art.” I think you get to a certain point in your life and you decide, “I’d rather have something that’s an original piece.”
CC:Do you bargain with the dealers?
GR: I buy art like I buy clothes. If I see something that I like, but I can’t choose the color, then I get more than one. As with anything, if you are buying more than one, or if you are potentially going to be a customer that comes back, you get discounts. I have to work for my art vice. You try to be smart shopper.
CC:Do you have relationships with particular dealers, or do you pretty much scour the market?
GR: A combination of both. I I have a good relationship in Frankfort with L.A. Gallery. In New York with Derek Eller Gallery and Paul Morris Gallery. In California: Mark Moore Gallery.
CC:Where is your collection housed?
GR: Several places right now, depending on the kindness of friends and family.
CC:Do you fraternize with other collectors?
GR: I do fraternize with some collectors. I’d like to fraternize with more. It seems to be a small conspiracy to keep collectors away from each other. When you go to a gallery the’re always very discreet and very mysterious about who the other collectors are, so you don’t run into them too often, Slowly but surely you build up your collector’s network.
CC:Have you collected specific artists in depth?
GR: Yes, I have to say I love all my artists, but I have particularly strong crush now on Oliver Boberg (Constructed reality photos. Shows with Paul Morris, New York and L.A. Gallery Frankfort). I have several pieces of Thomas Scheibitz (figurative German painter, represented in New York by Tanya Bonakder Gallery), and Michael Reafshneider (an American, he makes abstract, heavy impasto, colorful paintings. Shows with Mark Moore in Los Angeles), Giles Lyon (young American abstract painter represented by Feigen Contemporary in New York) Whiting Tennis (innovative young American collage/painter with Derek Eller gallery, New York).
CC:How much do you usually spend for a young artist?
GR: Smaller works under $3000.
CC:Who do you listen to?
GR: I listen to my internal voice. If I love a piece it doesn’t really matter what anyone says. I listen to dealers when they have an artist that they have an artist that they think might fit my taste, and I ask other artists what they think. I have bought some pieces by the artists I just mentioned that people have pooh-poohed and then allof a sudden the artist’s career started expanding two years later and everyone said, “Oh, I can’t believe you got that artist, you were such a visionary!” And I’m thinking, “Don’t they remember what they told me two years ago? They thought it was a piece of crap.”
Christopher Chambers Interviews Collector Steve Shane
(Republication of a dArt magazine Summer 2003 article.)
Collector Steve Shane
Every Saturday art lover Steve Shane visits 30 galleries in New York City, where he resides. Sundays he goes to museums, or galleries outside Manhattan, All of his vacations are scheduled around art events. He has rarely missed a major international art fair in twenty years, He regularly sends out his art emails of his picks to over 500 fellow enthusiasts. Shane prefers to term himself an “art lover,” rather than a collector, stating that his “collection is only a little side effect of my passion,” although he has amassed a collection of over 500 works of contemporary art to date. Shane has never sold any of his collection, which will one day be bequeathed to different museums.
Christopher Chambers:Would you say that collecting is your hobby?
Steve Shane: Hobby is too little of a word. It’s why I live. It’s why I go to work. Its why I go to work. It’s why I get up; it’s my life. The art galleries, the art dealers, my art collection; talking about it, reading about I, reading art magazines…
CC:What inspires you to collect art?
SS: I’m looking for a buzz. I don’t drink alcohol. I don’t do any drugs. I don’t smoke. It’s my buzz in life. And I’m also looking for myself. My collection helps me understand who and what I am. I don’t just let anyone into my collection – it really exposes who I am, it’s like lying on a psychiatrist’s couch. My collection is really personal. I think you come here and you might be able to figure out some aspects of my personality, and my identity, history.
CC: What is art for?
SS: I think it has different purposes for different people. For me it’s for pleasure. I think it’s to learn. I think one of the things it’s for is: a talented artist was born in this world to help the viewers see what they didn’t see before viewing the art. For example, the Beckers. They taught me how to look. I don’t think I would have ever noticed urban landscapes if it wasn’t for them, I would have never seen a water tower. Or, Marcel Duchamp has taught me to look at things I see in life as a sculpture.
CC:Why do you think people make art?
SS: I don’t think they have a choice. They were born to do it. Hopefully a good artist does it because he has something to say about art history, our society, about politics…
CC:What is art?
SS: Art is anything that an artist makes, that an artist has dedicated his life life to do. Anything that is shown in an art museum or an art gallery. I think it’s creativity.
CC:Have you ever seen magic?
SS: Yes. It’s all magical for me. My first experience of an artist. There’s an artist I’ve been crazy about for a while, I think it’s a magical experience for me to see it: Neo Rauch. It’s always a magical experience for me. It takes me to a different place. I think Kim Keever’s magical. One of the things in my collection is a sense of place. I have this thing; I work in New Jersey, I’m a doctor, and then I go through the Lincoln Tunnel and I’m in the art world, New York. I’m from Detroit. Kim Keever takes me to another place. I think that’s magical. It’s like a high. Art can be an escape in that sense.
CC:Do you think a work of art should transcend the picture plane?
SS: I think it’s more religious than spiritual. I don’t go to synagogue or church. It’s like a religious calling or religious experience for me. It’s more exciting for me when I first see an artwork as opposed to possessing it. I end up looking like a squirrel, maybe, because I have a big collection, but the biggest thing for me is to see it, to discover it, than to possess it. I like to be a part of the whole situation. After I acquire a piece I like to meet the artist. I also like to consider myself an artist as curator. The work takes on a different meaning in the context of my collection. Because it’s a curated show in my home.
CC:Is there any particular overriding theme or direction to your collecting?
SS: Within my collection there is a strong sense of place – a longing or an imagining to be in another place – a different, better place. Other themes recurring throughout my collection include, art about art – art that alludes to or builds on the history of art. I am also attracted to art that exhibits a sense of humor; art that uses wit or irony to comment on historical art movements, artists and the creative process. Another key theme is the marriage of seduction and repulsion. In its physical presence and its emotional content, the work in my collection both attracts and repels the viewer. Contemporary art, as art throughout history, expresses the horror and the joy of the human condition. The artwork in my collection reflects this condition with assuredness, strength, and sincerity. Other themes that have subconsciously entered are: “painting without paint,” “photography of invention,” the element of the “fake,” “the dysfunctional family,” “celebrity,” and a sense of the theatrical.
CC: Did you collect other things as a child?
SS: It was elephants. Elephants from all over the world made from all different materials.
CC: Do you collect artists in depth, or do you try to go across the board?
SS: I used to only want to have one of each, but then, I was enamored by Cindy Sherman early on – in the early eighties – and I think I have twenty Shermans. Elliot Green, I have four or five and then Nina Bovasso… it’s mostly one ofs, but there are certain artists I have multiple pieces by. Condo (2), Dunham (2), Dzama (4), Glantzman (2), Deb Cass (2), Jonathan Tucker (9), Lasker (2), Simmons (6), Elizabeth Olbert (2), John Waters (2) John Waters is hilarious, Angela Wyman (4), Wojnarowicz (2).
CC:What is your favourite work in your collection?
SS: The last piece I acquired always.
CC:Do you see any particular direction that you think art is heading in?
SS: Yes, I think it’s heading way toward video. I went to the last Documenta. I don’t have the patience to watch a video for forty-five minutes. In my opinion a good video is if you can jump in at any point and watch it for three minutes. That’s Pipolitti Rist. I end up being mesmerized, maybe that’s the magic you were talking about. Actually, I stay for a long time with her’s. But, I don’t think it’s going to be the end of painting, that’s for sure. I am an individual. I go all over the place and and figure it out for myself. I search for what I think is a good painting, not what’s going on now. That’s looking at art with your ears. I think it’s amazing what some dealers don’t know about art history.
