COLLECTORS WITH PANACHE Pretty Pictures
Marion and Henry Bloch's collection
of superb Impressionist masters.
By Steve Paul
Henry Bloch.
Vincent van Gogh, Restaurant Rispal
at Asnières,
oil on canvas, 1887.
Collection of Marion and Henry Bloch.
The Nelson-Atkins Building and Bloch Building from the
J.C. Nichols Plaza.
Henri Matisse, Woman Seated before
a Black Background,
oil on canvas, 1942. Collection of Marion and Henry Bloch.
Paul Cézanne, Man with a
Pipe, oil on canvas,
1890-1892. Collection of Marion and Henry Bloch.
Edgar Degas, Dancer Making Points, oil on canvas, 1879-1880.
Collection of Marion and Henry Bloch.
Édouard Manet, The Croquet
Party, oil on canvas,
1871. Collection of Marion and Henry Bloch.
Claude Monet, Snow at Argenteuil, oil on canvas, 1874-1875.
Collection of Marion and Henry Bloch.
It was a sunny, June morning when Henry W. Bloch, co-founder
of the H&R Block tax-advice company, helped to dedicate
a huge new wing at the Nelson-Atkins Museum of Art in Kansas
City, Missouri.
The glass-skinned building (by architect Steven Holl), bears
the Bloch name – he's also a longtime museum trustee.
And for its opening the Nelson's leaders found it most
fitting to feature the stunning collection of French Impressionism
pieced together over 35 years by Bloch and his wife. Manet
to Matisse: Impressionist Masters from the Marion and Henry
Bloch Collection included 30 works, most not seen in public
for decades.
The Blochs began buying art in the early 1970s. Neither scholars
nor connoisseurs, they wanted to surround themselves, as Henry
Bloch says, with “pretty pictures.” And such prettiness:
a rare Manet still life of white lilacs in a glass vase; sublime
landscapes by Sisley, Pissarro, Caillebotte and Cézanne;
Degas dancers in pastel and bronze; and an extraordinary Matisse
portrait of a woman, elegant and colorfully hopeful against
a black, wartime background.
For most of their collecting efforts, the Blochs were closely
advised by Ralph T. Coe, or Ted, retired director of the Nelson.
Bloch enjoys telling the stories behind the works. Of Cézanne's
Quarry at Bibémus, he notes how it came from the artist's
getaway period after a critical drubbing in Paris.
And once, the Blochs, visiting the Grand Hotel de Louvre, gazed
out at the very intersection Pissarro had painted in their
Rue Saint-Honoré. Their guide that day was the artist's
great-grandson.
At the exhibit's entrance hung four Andy Warhol portraits
of Marion Bloch. “I loved that picture,” Bloch
says. The Blochs owned one, the Nelson had one and Bloch knew
that two more were now in Pittsburgh. Bloch had asked the Nelson
whether those could be borrowed. “I was sure we'd
be turned down,” he says.
Happily, for the family, the portraits arrived and served as
a vibrant tribute to the ailing Mrs. Bloch.
For an interview with Panache, edited for length and clarity,
Henry Bloch sat amid the collection in the Nelson's new
galleries.
The building project
took seven years, not without difficulties and debates over
design, construction and cost. How do you feel about the
result?
I never thought it would be like this. It's just
amazing. One of the best things said about it was in The
New York Times: From now on, anyone wanting to build an
art museum should see this one first. There were a lot
of problems all the way through, but it turned out great.
The same could be said about your
art buying. You didn't begin with French Impressionism.
How did your collecting evolve? We bought a wonderful Dutch picture, by Jacob
van Ruisdael, from the Nelson's old Sales and Rental
Gallery. It was a small picture. It was not expensive. So
then we decided to collect Dutch art.
We were in Amsterdam once and went to galleries looking for
art. We found a beautiful picture by Isak van Ostade. It
was large, just beautiful and very reasonable. So I bought
it, and I had it sent to the Nelson to make sure everything
was OK. When we got home, I asked the conservator, “Did
you get the picture I sent you by von Ostade?” He said, “Well,
yes and no. We did get it and it might have been by him at
one time, but it had been completely repainted.” He
showed me with the black light. It really had no value at
all. So that taught me about condition. After that, I never
bought a picture that hadn't been approved by the conservation
department. It kind of left a bad taste. We decided not to
collect Dutch painting.
So French Impressionism became
your focus. And the results were much happier, weren't
they? Neither of us had formal training. We were lucky.
We wouldn't have even started without Ted Coe. His
father had a great collection in Cleveland.
In picking them out we always got Ted's approval.
And often he would show them to us. They were always paintings
we liked.
Cézanne did a series of paintings of skulls. I told
Ted, I wouldn't want one in my house, and said, “You
wouldn't want to own one of these, would you?” Ted
said, “You bet I would.”
That's the difference between a real connoisseur
and someone who likes pretty pictures. We liked pretty
pictures. We just enjoyed them
Sometimes the advice
you got was not all that great. There's a story
about a Monet, right?
That was tragic. We had a wonderful decorator, Ted
Graeber. He worked for the Annenbergs. He did the White
House for the Reagans. He came out one day. We had
a large Monet painting of the British Parliament and
the River Thames. It was very hazy. Ted said, “Get
rid of that painting. I don't like it.” I
should have called Ted Coe to discuss it, but I called
a dealer instead, who said, “Sure, I'll
take it off your hands.”
But I've sold two or three paintings. A Pissarro
for example, when we got a far better one. And the
Degas. We had another one with three dancing girls.
But this one (Dancer Making Points) was much finer. You've bought from dealers
and at auctions. What have you noticed over the years about
the differences? I was always getting letters from people
with pictures for sale, but Ted always impressed on me, never,
never, never do that. Only buy from reputable dealers.
And at auction – I've always had a good experience
with the auction houses.
Did you bid in the room, holding
a paddle? No. I bought once on the telephone.
That taught me a lesson. I bought the Matisse. I figured
I'll never do it again myself after that. The bidding
went so fast. The woman kept saying, “Do you want to
bid?” And I said, “I just did.” It was
going way over the estimate. I kept saying yes, yes, yes.
After that I always had somebody bid for me.
When the Van Gogh (Restaurant Rispal
at Asnières)
came up at auction, it was the middle of the tax season and
I was worn out. I couldn't see flying to New York,
but I felt I couldn't buy it without seeing it. So
[art dealer] Richard Feigen said, “Did you like the
picture in the catalogue?” If so, he said, it's
a much better picture in person. That was good advice.
Manet to Matisse
Impressionist Masters from
the
Marion and Henry Bloch Collection THROUGH SEPTEMBER 9
Nelson-Atkins Museum of Art,
Kansas City, MO
816.751.1278; www.nelson-atkins.org
