In this ambience of gentle affection, even the crassest stuff of Americana refuses to look vulgar when transported to Brainard-land. In this artist's hands, even a Holiday Inn sign, a few boxes of Tide, or a comic-strip character like Nancy looks like something from an imaginary, pre-industrial world, viewed with the enchanted love of a remembered first encounter …
Robert Rosenblum
A tireless collector, patron, and curator committed to new and emerging art, Kenneth L. Freed assembled a broad and smart collection over the course of his lifetime. He acquired a vast majority of the works from the primary market or directly from the artist’s themselves, often selecting seminal works by artists who were at the time still relatively unknown. This special presentation is Rago's final offering of works from Freed's remarkable collection.
By dint of his untiring commitment to and passion for new and emerging art, Freed assembled his expansive, informed collection over the course of 25 years. Often befriending the artists whose works he acquired, Freed was driven by a sincere passion for discovery of new and under-recognized talent, and uncovered his own aesthetic identity along the way. The selection offered here includes seminal and key works by artists who, though relatively unknown at the time, would become much sought after, among them Kevin Appel, Tam Van Tran, and Udomsak Krisanamis.
In addition to his contributions as an art collector, curator and patron, Freed is recognized as a writer, scholar, and intrepid traveler. Prior to his passing, he was involved with a number of Boston-based organizations, including the Institute of Contemporary Art, the Museum of Fine Arts, the Boston Lyric Opera, and the Boston Latin School Association.
Kenneth L. Freed in conversation with art journalist Louise Nicholson about becoming a collector, the joy of the chase, and his advice to collectors today:
Louise Nicholson: Ken, when did you start collecting?
Kenneth L. Freed: I make a distinction between when I started to buy art and when I started to collect. The first thing I bought was in 1973 when I got my first job that actually paid me something. I bought a Robert Motherwell print, one of the Africa series. But it wasn’t until the early 90s that I decided to pursue art in a more focused way. I set out to be modest and domestic; instead of storing big pieces of work I would collect drawings, all contemporary and, at that point, American.
LN: And how did your focus change from drawings to sculpture?
KF: I met lots of young artists, doing roughly what you might call post-minimalist, post-Tuttle kind of art. And I met young dealers all hiding from their creditors because the market had collapsed in the early 90s. I started to see things I liked, and in a small way to acquire little installations, little scattered bunches of objects. Then, in the mid-90s two things happened that totally changed my life. One, I started to travel a lot, to go to LA and Europe because I had time; to Berlin, to Rio, São Paulo, and occasionally to London.
LN: And the other thing that changed your life?
KF: I started to see things that attracted me in sculpture. I went to an auction in Guadalajara where I was offered a piece by a Brazilian artist that collapses down into a nice little box but when you put it up it would fill a whole room. And I turned to a very famous Miami collector and said: "You know, Carlos, I’m never going to be able to put this in my home." And he replied, "That’s how it starts!" Anyhow, I bit the bullet, rented a storage space and from that point on there was nothing to limit me. I became a collector of painting and sculpture by lesser-known and emerging artists.
LN: Do you enjoy the chase, which seems to be an important part of being a true collector?
KF: Yes. It became a kind of hunt, a sport. I found people of talent, then tried to connect the dots, to try to find out “I like this, and this, I don’t like that.” And to build a kind of mental map of who is doing this art, what makes it interesting, and so forth. That’s what I have found compelling for roughly 15 years.
LN: You have been a patron of unknown artists who then go on to be highly respected. Does this give you great pleasure?
KF: Absolutely! If it weren’t for that aspect I don’t think I would have done this. It was not primarily about acquiring things; acquiring was a consequence of the activity, the activity being finding the people, finding the art, trying to encourage them, curating shows and showing the work in my very filled apartment – having open houses, inviting people, and all that; getting the word out. So, buying the art was a way of saying "I think this is good."
LN: How did you seek the artists out?
KF: Initially, it started through meeting young gallerists. They introduced me to young artists, who talked about other artists. The information is always there. It is a question of having the sense of which information you have to acknowledge. It becomes an experience thing, and eventually automatic.
LN: Did you go to directly to artists’ studios?
KF: Yes, especially in other cities. I would get a young artist to drive me around and we would visit a variety of collectors, artists—young and more experienced—and galleries.
LN: How do you see the difference between investment collecting and what you have done?
KF: Well, if you can’t trust your own aesthetic judgement, then what is the point of getting involved? You need to spend some time making mistakes when you start out. To some extent, it was about trying to help young artists and educate myself, and in another way, it was just the sensuous and intellectual pleasure of it.
LN: How would you describe your collection? And what brings you to sell it now?
KF: I chose it all, not dealers. And for 99% of it I was the first owner. Now I want my babies to grow up and take care of themselves! I want it all out there. I’m offering a very wide range of material, about 900 of the 13,000 pieces I have. I have absolutely no regrets; it’s been a wonderful ride, totally, but it’s one that’s coming to its natural end.
LN: Finally, what is your advice to a budding collector?
KF: Buy early and often! The best place to start to learn is the group shows. If you are interested, get into it, do it until it plays itself out and then move on, which is what I’ve done. Basically, you’ve got to stumble, to buy things you like, then let your taste develop because if it doesn’t, you’re robbing yourself of what is the special value of the whole process.
Joe Brainard 1942–1994
Born in Salem, Arkansas in 1942, Joe Brainard spent his formative years in Tulsa, Oklahoma. The Brainard family was full of artistic talent: Joe's paternal grandfather was an amateur poet; his father dabbled with drawing and painting; and his brother became a painter of some esteem. As a shy, unathletic boy who stuttered, Brainard turned to art for the pleasure of self-expression and to gain confidence growing up in a working-class neighborhood. Early on, Brainard showed a flair for visual art as well as writing. In high school, he befriended Ron Padgett and Ted Berrigan, who both went on to experience literary success. Padgett asked Brainard to be the art critic for their nascent journal, The White Dove Review. Following a brief stint at the Dayton Art Institute, where he had a full scholarship, Brainard left school to move to New York City at the start of the 1960s. There he reunited with Padgett, who was studying at Columbia University, and Ted Berrigan soon joined them. For the first two years, Brainard barely made ends meet living in tenements on the Lower East Side. After trying his luck in Boston for a year, Brainard returned to New York and his circumstances suddenly improved.
In late 1963, Brainard found entry into a truly dynamic circle, which included the poets John Ashberry, Frank O'Hara, and Kenneth Koch along with visual artists such as Andy Warhol, Jasper Johns, and Alex Katz. Given Brainard's talent for art and writing, plus his naturally eclectic perspective, he managed to bridge the New York School, Pop art, and Abstract Expressionism, both socially and creatively. The following year, Brainard met and started a relationship with writer, editor, and theater performer Kenward Elmslie. They developed an intense bond grounded in artistic affinity and companionship. Despite seeing other people at times, Brainard and Elmslie would remain romantic partners and collaborators for thirty years until Brainard's death in 1994 from AIDS-induced pneumonia. Brainard's ashes were ultimately scattered in northern Vermont, where he and Elmslie summered throughout their time together.
Brainard's visual art began to garner attention in the mid 1960s. His drawings, paintings, and collages gradually evolved beyond the influence of Warhol and Johns to demonstrate a preoccupation with assembling minutiae and rendering beauty in various forms. After sharing an exhibit with Larry Rivers at Manhattan's Finch College Museum in late 1964, Brainard had his first solo show at the Alan Gallery. As the decade progressed, Brainard's work was part of group shows at the Fischbach and Landau-Alan galleries as well as at the Museum of Modern Art and the Whitney Museum. In the 1970s, Brainard's work was featured in several solo exhibitions. This included a show at the Phyllis Kind Gallery in Chicago (1970), four shows at the Fischbach Gallery in New York (1971, 1972, 1974, and 1975), and a show at FIAC in Paris (1976). In his 1975 solo show at the Fischbach Gallery, Brainard's prolific output was on full display with 1,500 miniature works. Art lovers and critics alike celebrated Brainard's by turns imaginative, playful, and humane creations.
Brainard experimented with writing projects throughout his youth and early years in New York in the form of diaries, essays, and word-image juxtapositions using his own work and that of other artists. In 1970, he became obsessed with documenting his scattered memories in a simple, direct manner, producing hundreds of statements using the reflective prompt, "I remember …" Covering his childhood in Oklahoma and his coming-of-age in New York, Brainard's alternately mundane, nostalgic, transgressive, and humorous verbal collage was published as a memoir under the title, I Remember, by a small literary press called Angel Hair Books. Not only did Brainard's famous artistic friends receive his book with great enthusiasm, but so did the reading public. Consequently, Brainard produced several more I Remember volumes and his concept spawned multiple homages and imitations. Blurbing a 2001 reissue of I Remember by Granary Books, the writer Paul Auster called the work a "masterpiece" and a "modest little gem [that] will endure" for how skillfully Brainard "charts the map of the human soul and permanently alters the way we look at the world."
Auction Results Joe Brainard
