4 ½ out of 5
Herb and Dorothy Vogel are a pair of frail, unassuming elderly New Yorkers who live in a small apartment surrounded by clutter, turtles and cats. Stacked against the walls, piled up against tables and consuming every other inch of free space from the bathroom to the kitchen is one of most impressive collections of 20th century modern and contemporary art ever assembled.
Which in and of itself is not that amazing. Until you find out Herb and Dorothy amassed their collection on the wages of a postal worker and a librarian. Starting in the mid-‘50s the couple would seek out emerging artists in some of the dodgiest parts of New York in its seediest decades; Chuck Close, Christo and Jeanne-Claude and Robert Mangold are effusive in praise and it’s clear the pair are more than just clients. But theirs was a very different kind of patronage as they had only two rules: that they could afford a piece on their meagre salary and that it could fit into their apartment.
The polar opposite of sycophantic art dealers and gallery trolls, they weren’t in it to make a quick buck – sitting out the numerous art booms that could have made them millionaires many times over. By the time they bequeathed the entire collection to the National Gallery of Art in Washington it was approaching 5,000 pieces. But they’re not in it for the recognition – Herb managed to keep his art obsession a secret from his colleagues for most of his working life. They collect art simply because they loved it.
But Herb and Dorothy is about more than art. It’s the blissful story of two people who found their passion – and more importantly found someone else to share that passion with. It’s also the story of art appreciation. Much is made of the way Herb studies a piece, an intensity often outweighing the drama on the canvas. An extraordinary documentary about an extraordinary couple.
