04 Sep Collector’s Eye: A Collector’s Journey at 94

At age 94, Richard Hertz has stories to tell from his lifetime of collecting art.

Growing up during the Depression and World War II, Hertz served in the U.S. Air Force right after the war. As for art, he says the Air Force offered nothing in that category. Reflecting on his high school days, Hertz recalls that he never touched anything related to art, not even taking an art class. At home, his family had old European paintings to which he paid little attention.

After the Air Force and back in New York City in his 20s, Hertz lucked upon a roommate who was “quite talented in the understanding of the arts.” A fabric designer, the roommate worked under the guidance of architect, interior designer, and furniture designer Alexander Girard, the director of design for Herman Miller’s textile division.

“We started hanging around and looking for girls,” Hertz says. “I started to meet people in the arts, mostly in Greenwich Village. We would go to artists’ studios, and I began to get a feel for art. Then I found out that the routine on Saturday afternoons was, if you didn’t have a date for that night, you went to either Bloomingdale’s or the members’ lounge at the Museum of Modern Art. So, I became a member of MoMA.”

Being exposed to art increased Hertz’s appreciation for it. The first painting he fell in love with was at the top of a stairway on MoMA’s second floor. “It was a Gustav Klimt painting of a tree. It was sudden that I noticed the painting was all about the leaves!” he says. “I wanted to spend more time with art, so I began going to galleries on the Upper East Side.”

One afternoon while walking on Madison Avenue, Hertz saw Colombian artist Fernando Botero’s works in a window. “I saw a painting that I loved, and I wanted it,” Hertz says. “It cost me $400, an amount that wasn’t easy to come up with in 1961, but I had to have that painting.”

Hertz met Botero shortly after he bought the painting, and the artist invited him to his studio in Manhattan. “It was like a garret in a tiny brownstone on 23rd Street,” Hertz remembers. “I was married by then, and we became friends with him and his wife.”

Now, decades later, Hertz looks around his home and sees more than just paintings and sculptures — he sees memories, friendships, and feelings that never faded. It was never about status or investment, but rather, the impression art left.

WA&A: What inspires you to collect art?

R.H.: It’s a physical reaction instead of an intellectual one. When I knew nothing about art, at times a certain piece would get my nerves jingling, and I would have a strong feeling of connection. One was a Jesús Rafael Soto that I bought instinctively in 1960. I had it for over 50 years, and I never walked by it without the same feeling.

WA&A: Was there ever one that got away?

R.H.: Yes, there were two paintings that I wish I had today. There was a time when I would buy paintings by putting $100 down and paying them off monthly. The dealer, André Emmerich in New York City, specialized in the Color Field school and had a Jules Olitski that he was willing to let my wife of one year and me have on terms.

Our apartment had high ceilings, but it also had huge moldings. The Olitski was so big it wouldn’t fit into the elevator, so we put it on top of the massive elevator, and once we got it into our apartment, it wouldn’t fit between the base molding and the ceiling. So, we sent it back. It would have been a $1,000 purchase. Not long ago, that piece sold for $1 million.

The second one was years later, in the ’70s. My construction company was chosen to renovate the members’ lounge at MoMA, my old hangout. The architect was Philip Johnson, one of New York City’s highest-quality architects. Six months later, Johnson calls again, this time to assist artist Mark Rothko with ‘a little job.’

Rothko’s studio was in an old firehouse with 40-foot ceilings. He’d just been commissioned to create the de Menil Chapel in Houston, Texas, and wanted a mockup of the chapel to understand how big it should be. So, we built mockups.

A few months later, Rothko called me again for another job in his studio. This time, in payment for my services, Rothko offered to trade for a painting, which I agreed to. He had a 50-foot-long wall of paintings that he said, ‘You can pick any painting from here to here.’ I started looking, and nothing looked like a Rothko; they were all from his very early period and mostly figurative. I decided a check would be preferable instead of one of the paintings he offered. A significant number of years passed by before Pace Gallery had an exhibit of these works. Each one was priced between $300,000 and $400,000. Unfortunately, the end of this story is sad; it wasn’t long afterwards that Rothko committed suicide.

WA&A: What is your favorite piece and why?

R.H.: A reclining nude bronze by Fernando Botero. The problem is, I don’t know why, but I can’t walk past it without reaching over and touching it. It has a certain quality that grabs me. I knew I wanted it the first time I saw it.

WA&A: Is there any advice you’d offer someone who wants to start an art collection?

R.H.: Two things: The first one might seem a little trite, but it’s important. Make sure the piece really speaks to you, and that it does something extra to your mind and body, and then you know you’ll love it forever. Two: Remember that if you’re in a gallery, they want to sell a piece to you as much as you want to buy it, so don’t be afraid to bargain the best you can and to make payments until it’s paid off if you must. If you do this, you’ll end up with pieces you otherwise wouldn’t have.

WA&A senior contributing editor Shari Morrison has been in the business of art for more than 40 years. She helped found the Scottsdale Artists’ School and the American Women Artists and directed the Santa Fe Artists’ Medical Fund for some years.

Based in Santa Fe, New Mexico, photographer Daniel Nadelbach’s clients include Smithsonian, Whole Foods, Vogue Australia, Auberge Resorts, and Head Sportswear, among many others.