Photo by Wes Naman

Life-long passion of self-described ‘non-collector’ spawns a stunning contemporary art collection

 

Dr. Jonathan Abrams

 

By Nancy Harbert
Before you even reach the doorbell at Dr. Jonathan Abrams’s Albuquerque home, his world-class art collection greets you: a mixed-media piece on a wall by the door, in front of which stands a spiraling metal sculpture. Once inside the house, art is everywhere and nothing is ordinary.

Lining every wall are paintings, prints, photographs, drawings or mixed-media works. Some things protrude, like a giant megaphone over the fireplace and a herd of pink wooden “fingers” that poke out from a kitchen wall. Even the ceiling is fair game: a tin-and-bronze woman sprawls above the living room, her ponytail dangling downward.

“The general rule is that if it looks original, it is a New Mexico artist and if it looks like a print, then it is a national artist, because that’s what we could afford,” said Dr. Abrams during a recent tour of his collection. Dr. Abrams began buying art with his twife, Fay, shortly after they arrived in Albuquerque in 1970. An internist-cardiologist in the U.S. Army, Abrams had been assigned to Albuquerque. Later, he joined the faculty of the UNM School of Medicine, and when he retired last year, he was the longest-serving physician on the staff.

Meanwhile, Fay Abrams opened Mariposa Gallery, which she sold four years ago. When they divorced, Dr. Abrams got the house, but they continue to co-own the collection, which has grown to more than 400 pieces, including a couple of Picassos. 

“We always had the same taste,” he said. That taste has always has been contemporary, “I don’t know why I preferred contemporary art, but as I learned more, it became a passion.” 

Abrams took Local iQ on recent tour of the collection, which began in front of a large canvas marked with a pattern of brown shapes. Dr. Abrams, who prefers to be referred to as someone who likes art rather than as a collector, challenged his visitors to identify the source of the shapes.

“Teabags!” the doctor exclaimed, when they gave up.

He points to a photograph by Patrick Nagatani, a ceramic 1950s-era pickup truck sculpture by Tim Prythero, a painting by Richard Hogan (“I may have the world’s largest Richard Hogan collection”), a print by Sol LeWitt, a William Wegman photograph and a painting by Teo Gonzàlez. Some names are recognizable, others are not. But they all have a story behind them.

Take the woman on the ceiling. He met the artist, Jack Miller, at a gallery on Upper Canyon Road in Santa Fe. Miller, who lived in Chupadero, was blowing glass with two other men. Dr. Abrams got to talking with the glass blowers and discovered that Miller also created works in bronze. It wasn’t long before Dr. Abrams found himself with a woman hanging from his living room ceiling. He admitted that it took him a number of years before he decided he liked it.

He confesses a love for all of the works in the collection, but when pressed to name a favorite, he remarked, “If you have kids, do you have a favorite?” Dr. Abrams added that he adores each and every piece. “My heart is sad whenever I give something to a museum,” he admitted.

As the Abrams grew their collection and became friends with many of the artists, Dr. Abram’s involvement in the arts community grew, as well. He started the Contemporary Arts Society, helped establish an art gallery inside the UNM Health Sciences Center and has organized a number of exhibits. For Dr. Abrams’ 50th birthday, Larry Bell gave him a large mixed-media piece, which hangs near the kitchen doorway.

 

Photographs by Eliot Porter, Miguel Gandert and Joel Peter Witkin line the hallway leading to a den, also known as the “famous room,” where the artists include Richard Serra, Jean-Michel Basquiat, Jim Dine and Bruce Nauman.

 

In his bedroom, Dr. Abrams began to show the signs of “art toxicity,” as he confesses to being overwhelmed by the extent of his collection sometimes. But he can’t resist showing off his back yard, site of a beehive-shaped woodpile, a fragile-looking sculpture of tree branches (created by Bill Gilbert in the 1970s and has not toppled even once) and a circle of colorful doors taken from Volkswagen Beetles, a piece he agreed to baby-sit at the conclusion of an exhibit at Jonson Gallery, but ended up purchasing.

Even though he has no space for anything new, the doctor considers his life much richer for his long-ago decision to support artists. He wishes more people would buy contemporary art. A few suggestions for neophytes, “Always buy on time and buy from a reputable gallery. Go back twice and make sure you like the piece and introduce yourself to the artist.”
One thing he knows for sure, “Buying art is good for your health.”

He should know.

 

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