Herb & Dorothy (DVD)
2009 has been a mixed year for documentaries. After having seen a couple of documentaries this year, I can’t think of one that stood out from the rest, or at least left a lasting impression on me. That changed when I received a copy of Megumi Sasaki’s “Herb & Dorothy” (2009), a documentary that did not receive any critical attention. In a year where environmental and politically charged documentaries (Iraq and Afghanistan wars) outnumbered documentaries in any other category, “Herb & Dorothy” was a pleasant surprise.
At its core, “Herb & Dorothy” tells a simple tale of Herb and Dorothy Vogel, who managed to amass a huge art collection on meager incomes. Herb Vogel worked as a USPS postal worker and Dorothy worked as a librarian in New York City. They set aside Herb’s income to buy art and used Dorothy’s income for living expenses. Between the two, Dorothy was the spokesperson in dealing with the media and artists. Surprisingly enough, none of the Vogels’ co-workers were aware of their passion for collecting art. We see Herb paying a visit to his old post office, where Joseph Libonati, an ex-colleague and postal worker, acknowledges that his co-workers came to know about the Vogels’ art collection only after reading about it in the newspapers.
The director, Megumi Sasaki, interviews various artists whose works have been collected by the Vogels. It is through these interviews that we get personal and tender insights into the lives of the Vogels. Most of the artists interviewed for this documentary were relatively unknown at the time the Vogels passionately started buying their art in the 60’s and 70’s. According to Robert Mangold, a minimalist artist, the Vogels’ passion for collecting art probably equaled the passion of the artists for making the art.
As patrons of the vanguard contemporary art of NYC in the 60’s and 70’s, and to better understand various art forms, the Vogels studied art on their own. Herb assiduously studied the history of art by reading books on Asian, European, African, and American art. Dorothy and Herb also took various courses in drawing and painting at NYU. At that point in the documentary, both admitted to being wannabe artists. This self-taught process provided the Vogels with a unique background to understand and hand pick works for their collection. As art connoisseurs, they had a simple philosophy: “It has to be affordable, we should be able to carry it on the subway or in a taxi, and it has to fit into our one-bedroom apartment.”
Through interviews with Lucio Pozzi, Chuck Close, Will Barnet, and Sol LeWitt, we get to know how the Vogels stored their huge art in their small apartment. For instance, the Vogels bought an art piece from Sol LeWitt, which was basically a big nested map on a single piece of canvas. In order to house this artwork in their apartment, the Vogels came up with the idea of placing this art piece on one of the walls surrounding their bathtub. In fact, this installation was approved by Sol himself. In another example towards the end of the movie, we see Dorothy demonstrating a small installation piece by Richard Tuttle to a TV representative. It is a small piece of rope (about 10 cms long) nailed to the wall. As Dorothy explains it, this piece does not have to signify anything because it can just be a visual artwork.
On a couple of occasions, the Vogels were not able to pay for an artwork they were interested in procuring for their collection. As revealed by Christo and Jeanne-Claude, the Vogels were interested in buying Christo’s work but realized that they could not afford it. So, Christo and Jeanne-Claude offered that if the Vogels agreed to take care of their cats for a summer, then the Vogels could have Christo’s “Collage of Village Curtain” (1971). Apart from being art lovers, the Vogels were also committed animal lovers, and they accepted offer by Christo and Jeanne-Claude without hesitation.
It seems that over the years, the Vogels developed a deeper and more-sensitive relationship with the artists whose works they collected. Robert Barry, an installation artist, recalls that Herb would call him to talk about his new ideas and upcoming works. Both admitted to regularly talking for a few hours every week. Robert Mangold also talks about sharing similar moments with Herb Vogel. For these artists, the Vogels were like family.
At some point the Vogels decided to give away their collection to a public institution that could take proper care of it. Jack Coward, curator of the National Gallery of Art in Washington, DC, at that time offered to value the entire collection by funding the packaging and transportation costs of the Vogels’ collection. Little did he know that it would take six container-sized semi-trucks to get the entire collection to Washington. This was no small consideration, since the deal was not final at that time; i.e., it could be called off at any time. Finally, the National Gallery of Art was able only to absorb 1,000 pieces of art out of 4,782 art pieces. The Vogles then launched a nationwide program in which they gave away 50 works of art to 50 states by the end of 2009.
Megumi Sasaki’s documentary is simple and straightforward, and it not only explores the relationship of the Vogels to art, but also their relationship to each other. Sasaki delicately balances this. There is a certain degree of unspoken tenderness and intimacy that exists in their marriage. The structure of the documentary is a bit unscripted as the Vogels and artists are given a free pass on their content and appearances. As a result, the documentary stays true in its depiction of the Vogels’ life and the artists around them. Without getting into didactic details, the director presents a series of interviews that give a detailed picture of the abstract, pop, and minimalist art forms that existed during a period spanning three decades, starting in the 1950s. However, at times, I felt that the director comes across as too respectful to the Vogels. As a result, the documentary does ask provocative questions on their choice of obsessively procuring art even in hard economic times.
You don’t have to be an art history major to understand the various contemporary art movements shown in the film. Having said this, the movie has a subtle and influential message just under the surface. The Vogels could have easily become millionaires had they decided to sell their entire collection. However, they chose not to. They strictly adhered to their rule that no artwork in their collection would ever be sold. More so, the documentary questions the rudimentary principle of how far we are willing to give away valuable things for no monetary benefit. The film depicts all of this in a tasteful and non-preachy way.
Video
The movie is presented in its original aspect ratio of 1.33:1. Because it’s a low-budget movie, I did not expect much in the video department. The print is clean for the most part, with consistent colors.
Audio
The only audio option we get for this release is Dolby Digital 2.0. The dialogue is clear, and the soundtrack is a bit serene. But that seems to be the sound design of this documentary. Apart from this, the soundtrack does the job.
Extras
First, we get a set of seven deleted scenes totaling seventeen minutes. Here we see “Herb & Dorothy” talk about NYC, Sol LeWitt, and various other art events, such as art auctions, openings, and so on.
Up next, there is a set of three festival appearances by the Vogels (fifteen minutes) at the Hamptons International Film Festival, Provincetown Film Festival, and NYC Special premiere. Lastly, we get two trailers, including the original theatrical trailer, and a PBS promotional trailer.
Parting Thoughts:
“Herb & Dorothy” is a study of two selfless and ordinary people. The documentary is moving and inspirational at the same time. The Vogels’ passion for art is unparalleled to anything I have seen before. They gave up many creature comforts so that they could buy more art. As Chuck Close rightly says, “The Vogels were like a mascot of the New York art scene, and the art world was their habitat.” I would say that “Herb & Dorothy” is a different kind of documentary, one that stands out from the rest because of its simplicity in depicting the lives of two ordinary people who influenced the New York art scene profoundly. I can’t recommend this documentary enough.
At its core, “Herb & Dorothy” tells a simple tale of Herb and Dorothy Vogel, who managed to amass a huge art collection on meager incomes. Herb Vogel worked as a USPS postal worker and Dorothy worked as a librarian in New York City. They set aside Herb’s income to buy art and used Dorothy’s income for living expenses. Between the two, Dorothy was the spokesperson in dealing with the media and artists. Surprisingly enough, none of the Vogels’ co-workers were aware of their passion for collecting art. We see Herb paying a visit to his old post office, where Joseph Libonati, an ex-colleague and postal worker, acknowledges that his co-workers came to know about the Vogels’ art collection only after reading about it in the newspapers.
The director, Megumi Sasaki, interviews various artists whose works have been collected by the Vogels. It is through these interviews that we get personal and tender insights into the lives of the Vogels. Most of the artists interviewed for this documentary were relatively unknown at the time the Vogels passionately started buying their art in the 60’s and 70’s. According to Robert Mangold, a minimalist artist, the Vogels’ passion for collecting art probably equaled the passion of the artists for making the art.
As patrons of the vanguard contemporary art of NYC in the 60’s and 70’s, and to better understand various art forms, the Vogels studied art on their own. Herb assiduously studied the history of art by reading books on Asian, European, African, and American art. Dorothy and Herb also took various courses in drawing and painting at NYU. At that point in the documentary, both admitted to being wannabe artists. This self-taught process provided the Vogels with a unique background to understand and hand pick works for their collection. As art connoisseurs, they had a simple philosophy: “It has to be affordable, we should be able to carry it on the subway or in a taxi, and it has to fit into our one-bedroom apartment.”
Through interviews with Lucio Pozzi, Chuck Close, Will Barnet, and Sol LeWitt, we get to know how the Vogels stored their huge art in their small apartment. For instance, the Vogels bought an art piece from Sol LeWitt, which was basically a big nested map on a single piece of canvas. In order to house this artwork in their apartment, the Vogels came up with the idea of placing this art piece on one of the walls surrounding their bathtub. In fact, this installation was approved by Sol himself. In another example towards the end of the movie, we see Dorothy demonstrating a small installation piece by Richard Tuttle to a TV representative. It is a small piece of rope (about 10 cms long) nailed to the wall. As Dorothy explains it, this piece does not have to signify anything because it can just be a visual artwork.
On a couple of occasions, the Vogels were not able to pay for an artwork they were interested in procuring for their collection. As revealed by Christo and Jeanne-Claude, the Vogels were interested in buying Christo’s work but realized that they could not afford it. So, Christo and Jeanne-Claude offered that if the Vogels agreed to take care of their cats for a summer, then the Vogels could have Christo’s “Collage of Village Curtain” (1971). Apart from being art lovers, the Vogels were also committed animal lovers, and they accepted offer by Christo and Jeanne-Claude without hesitation.
It seems that over the years, the Vogels developed a deeper and more-sensitive relationship with the artists whose works they collected. Robert Barry, an installation artist, recalls that Herb would call him to talk about his new ideas and upcoming works. Both admitted to regularly talking for a few hours every week. Robert Mangold also talks about sharing similar moments with Herb Vogel. For these artists, the Vogels were like family.
At some point the Vogels decided to give away their collection to a public institution that could take proper care of it. Jack Coward, curator of the National Gallery of Art in Washington, DC, at that time offered to value the entire collection by funding the packaging and transportation costs of the Vogels’ collection. Little did he know that it would take six container-sized semi-trucks to get the entire collection to Washington. This was no small consideration, since the deal was not final at that time; i.e., it could be called off at any time. Finally, the National Gallery of Art was able only to absorb 1,000 pieces of art out of 4,782 art pieces. The Vogles then launched a nationwide program in which they gave away 50 works of art to 50 states by the end of 2009.
Megumi Sasaki’s documentary is simple and straightforward, and it not only explores the relationship of the Vogels to art, but also their relationship to each other. Sasaki delicately balances this. There is a certain degree of unspoken tenderness and intimacy that exists in their marriage. The structure of the documentary is a bit unscripted as the Vogels and artists are given a free pass on their content and appearances. As a result, the documentary stays true in its depiction of the Vogels’ life and the artists around them. Without getting into didactic details, the director presents a series of interviews that give a detailed picture of the abstract, pop, and minimalist art forms that existed during a period spanning three decades, starting in the 1950s. However, at times, I felt that the director comes across as too respectful to the Vogels. As a result, the documentary does ask provocative questions on their choice of obsessively procuring art even in hard economic times.
You don’t have to be an art history major to understand the various contemporary art movements shown in the film. Having said this, the movie has a subtle and influential message just under the surface. The Vogels could have easily become millionaires had they decided to sell their entire collection. However, they chose not to. They strictly adhered to their rule that no artwork in their collection would ever be sold. More so, the documentary questions the rudimentary principle of how far we are willing to give away valuable things for no monetary benefit. The film depicts all of this in a tasteful and non-preachy way.
Video
The movie is presented in its original aspect ratio of 1.33:1. Because it’s a low-budget movie, I did not expect much in the video department. The print is clean for the most part, with consistent colors.
Audio
The only audio option we get for this release is Dolby Digital 2.0. The dialogue is clear, and the soundtrack is a bit serene. But that seems to be the sound design of this documentary. Apart from this, the soundtrack does the job.
Extras
First, we get a set of seven deleted scenes totaling seventeen minutes. Here we see “Herb & Dorothy” talk about NYC, Sol LeWitt, and various other art events, such as art auctions, openings, and so on.
Up next, there is a set of three festival appearances by the Vogels (fifteen minutes) at the Hamptons International Film Festival, Provincetown Film Festival, and NYC Special premiere. Lastly, we get two trailers, including the original theatrical trailer, and a PBS promotional trailer.
Parting Thoughts:
“Herb & Dorothy” is a study of two selfless and ordinary people. The documentary is moving and inspirational at the same time. The Vogels’ passion for art is unparalleled to anything I have seen before. They gave up many creature comforts so that they could buy more art. As Chuck Close rightly says, “The Vogels were like a mascot of the New York art scene, and the art world was their habitat.” I would say that “Herb & Dorothy” is a different kind of documentary, one that stands out from the rest because of its simplicity in depicting the lives of two ordinary people who influenced the New York art scene profoundly. I can’t recommend this documentary enough.
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