Collectors3

Written by J. Sharpe Smith

photoS by William J. GentSch

They could be called citizen curators. These

painstaking collectors of art and artifacts.

Their homes are mini-museums, providing

display space for the collections, which hang

like trophies from the walls or sit prominently on

tables, lined up in formation for the enjoyment of only

those allowed to view them.

Their collections provide clues to where they have

traveled, whom they know and what they value. It is

the key to what fascinates them, where they find

beauty and what provides some of the meaning to

their lives. To get invited to see the collections and

hear the stories behind them is like getting a rare

glimpse into their hearts. We were graciously invited

into three homes of people with a special eye and a

particular knack for finding the unique.

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They stare out at you from the wall. The Masks.

Some are scary, others friendly—the pale sea

green Moon Mask associated with

transformation and protection of spirit and the

Sun Mask whose rays shoot in all directions.

On the scary side, “Tsonaqua,” known as the wild

woman of the woods, makes lightning with her

supernaturally loud voice. Her undulating black and blue

face contrasts with lips smeared with the red blood of the

children she has eaten. “Bookwus,” the wild man of the

woods, sports an eerie green face, menacing black brows,

sunken eye sockets, flaring red nostrils and a full set of

growling teeth. He brings the dead back to life during the

winter dance season.

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A Storyteller Connects

Each mask, though certainly an objet d’art on its own,

is a window into the ritual dramas performed by the

Canadian tribes, known as the “First Nations,” that lived

along that country’s northwest coast. They also represent

the collecting efforts of Jack Jenkins on the western coast

of Canada and in the Northwest United States over the last

two decades.

Jenkins began to study the principal First Nations

tribes of the northwest coast of Canada, which include the

Tlingit, Tsimshian, Bella Bella, Bella Coola, Haida and the

Kwakiutl, back when he lived in upstate New York, not far

from Canada. This interest led him to purchase his first

mask—one of an owl, the harbinger of death—in 1986 from

a British Columbia museum shop.

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Jack Jenkins



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Masks, in general, have special meaning to Jenkins,

who served as chairman of the theater department at

Simpson College in Indianola, teaching and directing plays

for 18 years. He has put a lot of thought into how actors

can adopt personas by using masks, whether actual or

psychological.

“If you are playing a character, you are psychologically

masking yourself. It’s fascinating to me and always has

been,” says Jenkins. “In actor training, we do exercises in

masking. If I can eradicate your face and give you another

face, then you can behave differently.”

Turning Knowledge into a Passion

His interest in the First Nations’ mythology led him to

journey to western Canada and the Northwest United

States nine times, always keeping an eye out for masks. He

has purchased masks from galleries and museum shops, as

well as directly from tribes and even from the artists

themselves. Once, he created his own First Nations art tour

of western Canada, which included sites with the most

totem poles, the equivalent of a multiple mask carvings

stacked one on top of another.

In one instance where serendipity intervened, he was

in Stratford, Ontario, for the summer-long Shakespeare

festival and he happened upon the Diving Killerwhale

Chilkat Moon Mask in Gallery Indigene. It is now in his

collection. Jenkins regularly checks out the Douglas

Reynolds Gallery in Vancouver, British Columbia, where he

has purchased several carvings by Beau Dick, a prominent

artist represented there.

One good place to see masks in action is a First

Nations ceremony, where tribal members wear the masks

to depict characters central to their mythology. The

presentations, similar to a Native American powwow, take

place in longhouses with a bonfire in the middle. The story

is told and then acted out in dances to a drumbeat, with

singing and chanting by the chief and tribesmen. These

presentations pass down the each tribe’s myths from

generation to generation.

“They are preserving their culture and sharing it,” says

Jenkins. “It was probably sacred before Christian times, but

today it is still revered because it is their mythology, their

story, their culture. It’s interesting. Some of it is funny and

other times it is scary.”

Sometimes, it is the mythology behind the mask that

makes it a must-have. One example is the striking red,

black and white mask that depicts the Raven, a key figure

in multiple tribes’ mythologies. In one story, the Raven,

known as a transformer but also as a lustful practical joker,

steals the sun from an evil being and places it into the sky.

In doing so, he dribbles bits of light, which becomes the

stars and the moon. “I knew the story and so I had to have

a Raven,” Jenkins says.

One of Jenkins’ most treasured collecting experiences

came recently. After witnessing a traditional Kwakiutl

ceremony at a cultural center in Ariel, Wash., he met Chief

Tsungani, who had carved the masks and taken part in the

ritual. Jenkins then purchased a mask the chief made that

depicts a deer that transforms into the face of a man. As a

fellow theater lover, Jenkins felt an instant kinship with

Tsungani.

“He was a charming man. I admire that they have been

able to translate storytelling into a living art,” Jenkins says.

“Storytelling is a universal art. We all tell stories. It lets

people know who we are and where we came from.”

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collectors

If paintings give us a window to the past, these works

are like looking back through a keyhole. The delicate

oval portraits, which can be 1 1/2 inches in diameter, date

back to the 16th to 18th centuries. In an incredibly small

space, these artists packed in an extreme amount of detail

with a wealth of color, usually depicting the head and

shoulders of the subject. To put it into perspective,

compared with contemporary portraits these antique

works of art are what a Japanese garden is to an Iowa

cornfield.

The main producers of miniatures were the French

and the English, who painted originally with watercolor on

vellum (animal hide). Then in the 18th century, ivory and

enamel were introduced as substrates.

Real Life Captured in the Miniature










copy. In the times before photography, miniature portraits

were mounted in gold lockets, broaches and bracelets and

served as a way to remember a loved one while he or she

was away on travel. On some portraits, a lock of hair is

attached to the back of the frame, adding to its personal

value. Additionally, a family might take the portrait to a

prospective suitor to show him their daughters.

Collecting as Social Activity

Collecting for Mark Pritchard grew out of his friendships

and the camaraderie that he experienced during his time

living in Milan, Italy, in the 1990s. He would get together

with his buddies and frequent the monthly antique fairs

that were held along the canals, which were designed by

Mark Pritchard


Leonardo da Vinci. The outdoor markets, featuring 500 to

600 vendors, were an antique collector’s paradise, offering

everything from furniture and paintings to jewelry and

clothes.

One day, a friend began explaining the value and

history of miniature portraits. Little by little, Pritchard

learned about miniatures, and the more he learned, the

more fascinated he became. Collecting miniatures is

popular today for the same reason people liked them in the

17th and 18th centuries: Portability.

“Miniatures are easy to purchase and take with you in

your luggage, if you are away from your hometown,”

Pritchard says.

Pritchard’s quest for miniatures took on a whole new

scope during his vacations along the Mediterranean Sea.

Antiques markets would take place every Sunday, Tuesday

and Thursday. During three-week vacations to Nice,

Cannes, the Riviera and other points in the south of

France, Pritchard and his friends would venture out, one in

search of silver; another, paintings of roses; another,

miniature portraits; and another, gold-leaf frames. Each

had a purpose.

“My buddy who also collected miniatures and I would

sprint across the cobblestone streets from one stall to the

next, trying to get first shot at the ivory miniatures,”

Pritchard says. “I got a lot of practice using my elbows.” He

has been successful developing a collection of 50 or 60

miniature portraits since 1993.

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Small Paintings of Big Dignitaries

Before there were paparazzi, miniature portraits

documented members of royal families, prime ministers,

military and civic leaders and their families. Interestingly

enough, some of the first miniature portraits depicted King

Henry VIII, who evidently did not share the same respect

for other people’s (including his wives’) heads. Pritchard’s

prized pieces include images of Napoleon and Josephine

and one of Shakespeare, painted in the 1840s by an

Irishman named Bernard Mulrenin, who has work hanging

in the National Gallery in Dublin, Ireland, and the National

Portrait Gallery in London, England.

Little Morsels of History

One could easily collect portraits of only royalty or

aristocrats, but Pritchard is not drawn in that direction. He

counts among his favorites in the collection depictions of

servants, ladies in waiting, maids and other average

people, who provide a realistic view of their time.

“These portraits are not stylized, but are warts-and-all

images of real people from the 17th and 18th century,” says

Pritchard. “Therefore, they serve as a historical record of

the time the portrait was executed.”

The images piqued Pritchard’s curiosity about the

stories behind them—what kind of lives they led. Each

image of a face is like a morsel of history that was probably

never written down. “History is not always made by

royalty,” he says. “It is made by the common folks as well. I

admire the plain, common people.”

Today, Pritchard’s miniature portraits are not only

images of European history, but are also a constant

reminder of his own history, his time in Italy and his

vacations to France.


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Whether winning a painting at auction from

Sotheby’s in New York or obtaining a

piece through bartering, the collecting

style of Robert and Harriette Lubetkin

proves there is no single method to adding to one’s

collections.

There may be larger, more prestigious personal

collections of artwork in Des Moines, but there is none more

interesting. Just as they do not limit themselves on how they

acquire the artwork, the couple draw no boundaries on

which artists to collect, whether it is a simple abstract

painting of a horse executed by the internationally known

minimalist abstract painter Susan Rothenberg or a

sculpture made by their former car mechanic.

Traveling Different Paths

The result of the Lubetkins’ collecting is an intriguing,

eclectic home décor. For example, pieces of Southwestern

Indian and African pottery purchased from dealers and

auction houses make for object d’art that is very interesting

to the eye. Not too mention being fine examples of artwork

from other cultures.

Friendships with the artist have led to a number of the

Lubetkins’ collection and commissioning experiences.

Their relationship with Des Moines native Doug Shelton,

now living in Tucson, Ariz., led to the first work they

collected. They traded a 100-year-old cartoon from the

Chicago Tribune for a Shelton painting called “Tunnel of

Love.” Later Shelton would paint Robert’s portrait.

Another friend and local artist, the late Karl Mattern, a

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Drake University instructor, painted Harriette’s portrait.

But one of the Mattern paintings in their collection was

actually purchased by accident. The framer discovered the

hidden treasure behind another painting they had bought

from Mattern’s widow.

“We like to get to know the artists, but that is not

always possible,” Robert says. Luckily, Harriette makes

friends quickly. When contemporary realist Philip

Pearlstein was at the Des Moines Art Center to give a talk,

Harriette approached him with a proposition. She wanted

to trade him a Native American rug for one of his prints.

After she handed over the rug, a print came in the mail

days later.

An Eye Open for the Unique

Harriette’s eye for the unique paid off when she spied an

industrial-looking chest made to store screws at a hardware

store in Lake View. The store owner refused to sell it to her

until years later. Today, it serves as a unique end table. She

added an industrial-size nut to the top of the chest as a

whimsical accent.

Tenacity has helped Robert as a collector. He lusted

after several mid-’20s art deco chairs owned by a

downtown shoe repair store, but the shop owner wouldn’t

budge. Finally, Robert got an idea. He purchased several

new chairs and offered them in trade for the antique chairs.

And now, after some refurbishing, the glistening chrome

and black leather chairs adorn the Lubetkins’ kitchen area.

Sometimes collecting requires not only friendship, but

patience and a little faith. When Robert was approached

by friend and local artist Richard Kelly, who needed travel

expenses for an art exhibit in Washington, D.C., Robert

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agreed to fund the trip in exchange for a piece yet to be

painted. Kelly, unfortunately didn’t sell anything at the

exhibition, and needed even more money to bring his

artwork home. Robert again supplied the funds. Pretty

soon, he was out several hundred dollars.

Eventually, Robert’s confidence in the artist was

rewarded with quite a large abstract painting. The story

doesn’t end there. When the commissioned piece

developed technical problems, Kelly happily replaced it

with a piece that had twice the value.

With children in Chicago, the Lubetkins regularly go

antiquing and gallery hopping in the Windy City. On one

such visit, they purchase a purple-infused expressionist

portrait painted by artist and sculptor Robert Arneson.

Why go to a gallery when your mechanic is a sculptor?

The “Muffler Man”—made from used car parts, including a

muffler—is a whimsical piece that Harriette commissioned

from, of all people, the man who kept their car in running

order, Jack King, after noticing a similar sculpture had been

sold from in front of the shop.

The Lubetkins’ collecting style tells a lot about their

personalities. They share a joy for life and hold no

pretensions about their collections, which span from

Meskwaki artifacts, Southwestern and African pottery to

fine art, art deco house wares and more. When asked why

she chose one piece or another, Harriette has no

complicated explanation. “I just liked it.” What is next?

Who knows? Robert says it all. “We always keep our eyes

open,” he says. “We are always looking for whatever

catches our fancy.” ■










Collectors3

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