I’m Jealous. Again.
Ernesto “San” Aviles, Portrait D’un Ami Tenant Une Poire,
1975, acrylic on canvas, 19”x19”
In 1989, the first time I tried to retire, I bought a half-interest in a local art gallery. I imagined that I’d be spending my newly freed-up days there, mostly reading great books, but also having stimulating discussions about art with rich and sophisticated collectors who had heard about our superb inventory.
That turned out to be a delusion. The reality of selling art on a retail basis, I discovered, was much more about building lists of prospects, staging promotions to get them in the door, making a good impression, and then constantly hounding them to convert them into paying customers. That was essentially the same routine from which I had just retired. So, I eased myself out of that deal and applied what was left of my interest in art to purchasing it, which turned out to be a lot of fun. If I saw it and liked it, I bought it. It was a simple as that.
I eventually decided to convert my habit of randomly buying art on impulse to the much more disciplined job of building a specialized collection. That wasn’t quite as easy as impulse buying had been, but it was more rewarding in the sense that I was working toward a goal that I truly cared about.
I had fallen in love with Central American Modern Art, so that was to become the core of my collection. But the dream I had for it did not feature me as the lead actor. I was busy trying to grow several businesses that I still had an interest in, and so I had to rely on Suzanne Snider as my partner to do most of the legwork – traveling to Central America to make contacts with dealers, artists, critics, and major collectors; winning their trust and respect; and then having them help us find opportunities for me to invest in the pieces we agreed that I needed to make my collection “world-class.” Which, of course, meant that she was having most of the fun.
To ensure the future of my collection, I came up with the implausible idea of somehow housing it in a museum. Maybe one that I would build myself. The dream I had for that project had me playing a larger role. I would be meeting with and learning from all the cool and interesting people that Suzanne had befriended over the years.
In 2021, I took the first step toward making that happen by having Suzanne help me establish two non-profits: the Mark & Kathryn Ford Collection to hold the core collection, and the Museum of Central American Art (MoCAArt) to make it available to the public.
Meanwhile, Suzanne has been curating the collection as it’s grown. And I’ve been working like a nut job generating income to fund the project; she’s still meeting and learning from all of those cool and interesting people.
Here’s an example. She’s writing about a recent trip she took to El Salvador to attend an exhibition of my favorite Central American modernist: San Aviles.
MoCAArt board member Louis Carrillo and Michel Langlais,
president of the MARTE museum in El Salvador
The birds sing, a dog barks and we sit in a covered patio of a Frank Lloyd Wright designed home. Orchids, palms, and giant ferns from prehistoric times blend as a wall. In the center of the yard, a large tree I only know from Dr. Seuss books.
I am hoping to see the Salvadoran National bird, torogoz, a turquoise-headed motmot, relative to the kingfisher. The long, thin tail feathers have plumes on the ends.
I am here with Louis Carrillo, and we are staying in the home of Michel Langlais in San Benito. It is just a block or two from EL MARTE, where the exhibition of Ernesto “San” Aviles opens this week.
Michel, as our personal ambassador, has planned the week. He is incredibly hospitable and just hearing his stories of all the people he knows in the art world is not only entertaining but impressive.
This morning we will visit the museum Forma, and in the afternoon one of my favorite contemporary artists here in El Salvador, Ronald Moran, at his art cooperative, La Fabrica.
