Questroyal 2009

A Fatal Mistake Many clients have inquired as to how I became an art dealer. Like many, I began as a collector. I became reacquainted with my interest in paint- ings by a chance introduction to an international businessman. He was the chief economist of a South American country, and he told me about his important painting collection. I asked why he committed so much capital to the acquisition of art. He said his country was unstable, and his assets could be seized at any time. Real estate, stocks, and bonds were all vulnerable, but his art was stored in various countries far from the reach of his government. I had not thought of art as an asset, andmy business instincts motivated me to act: I began to search for works that had investment potential. My first acquisition was a French postmodern painting, a choice based solely on monetary calculations without any personal considerations. This was a fatal mistake and destined my aspiring collection to instant failure. I could not live with art that I didn’t love, regardless of the financial potential. Those who believe art has no tangible or practical value may change their opinion if they consider how agonizing the sale of a family trea- sure could be. The dedicated collector cherishes his paintings and will fiercely resist selling any of them, no matter how significant the financial necessity. This rare characteristic, seldom seen with other assets, impacts the determination of worth. The laws of economics conflict with the passionate human being. It is this counterpoint that will forever sustain the value of art. With just a small fragment of this wisdom, I set out to discover the art that had real mean- ing for me. I found American landscapes most compelling. They were simple views of a place without ruin or monument, and—as best as I could discern—no great event had taken place on their grounds. These were honest works of a land long insulated from civilization. Artists, unencumbered by academic training or conven- tion, painted the landscape in truthful awe and yielded to the Creator with the brilliance found in restraint. This is our nation’s most indigenous art, now known as the Hudson River school, and it became the foundation of my collection. Much of my free time was spent in galleries and museums. I worked to refine my eye and gain knowledge. What began as a twice-yearly acquisition plan quickly accelerated, and I was soon on pace to acquire five or six paintings within the first year. My interest escalated, and I was on the path to addiction. But this was an addiction that I have never regretted. If there were such a thing as American Collectors Anonymous, I would be the poster boy. This is an addiction worth having, and I do not feel guilty encouraging you, nor would I feel any remorse should you need to go to support meetings. — lms, winter 2004 The collection grew and the paintings hung —in the living room, dining room, halls, and, before long, guest rooms and then bathrooms. Finally, my wife issued a challenge, perhaps an ultimatum. She said, “You’re good at buying these paintings.Why don’t you see if you can sell them?” And then, as if on command, I became an art dealer. I wanted to prove thatmy ability to sell paint- ings was equal to my skills as a check writer, so my three stunning landscapes by Frederic Church were placed on my sales list. I was criticized for Open the pages of this catalogue and assimilate the only known antidote tomodernity. One hundred and fifty years of what was thought to be progress is erased and layers of complexity unraveled to reveal long-obscured truth.Welcome to the American nineteenth century, a more transparent time, one in which we are confident that our understanding is not diluted or distorted. We are far from the mach- inations of financial institutions and the word “subprime” refers only to a lesser grade of beef. — lms, fall 2008 However, here the present was overwhelming! All I saw had been seen last year and last century. I might have been one thousand years removed from those before me, but in this almighty present, my sentiment, my expe- rience as a man in the wilderness, could not be differentiated… I am just a man alone: there is no measure of my worth, no need to judge or be judged. This is a nature that does not deliberate or mitigate. It knows no pretense, politic, or con- vention. It is for me as it is for you and as it will be for all who come later. We live insulated in cities of brick andmortar.Where is the raw scent of earth? Our air is conditioned and our windows are closed. So I wonder, how much have I really lived? — lms, “Hiking in the Catskills,” fall 2006