Issue link: http://papercitymagazine.uberflip.com/i/549779
We met briefly when he was in a sculpture exhibition in 1989 at Meredith Long & Company when I worked at the gallery. That same year, I remember trekking on a chartered tour bus to see his towering granite fountains and other monumental creations throughout offices and homes when he was named Art League Houston's Texas Artist of the Year. We did not become friends until much later, after my visit J esús Moroles was one of the first artists ever profiled in the pages of PaperCity — appearing in the June 1999 issue in a special feature penned after a visit to the HQ of Studio Moroles in Rockport, Texas, which is also the nexus of the close-knit Moroles family. (Two years later, I returned to Rockport to interview the artist for Art & Antiques.) From the beginning, Moroles was a giant, with tenacious ambition and a drive that came to define his sculpture and trajectory. His global outlook could make the rest of the art world seem small, even petty. Monument Maker MAN OF GRANITE REMEMBERING JESÚS MOROLES TAKE US BACK TO THE BEGINNING. I created the original format and served as emcee and producer (with Regine Zylberberg) of Dance Fever, which was first staged at Regine's disco. It was wildly successful and caught the attention of Merv Griffin Productions, who bought the concept and staged the TV format in L.A. six months later. Deney Terrio, one of my Regine's dance judges, took over my role as emcee on the TV version — yes, Deney trained Travolta for Saturday Night Fever. Paramount Pics used many of my competitors in the backdrop of that now famous scene at 2001 Odyssey Disco in Brooklyn. I didn't think the magic would transfer to TV, but it did run in syndication for six years. My man Deney and I were considered among the most physical disco dancers in NYC of that era. Yes, I was a damn good street dancer … ON YOU AND ANDY WARHOL, A JUDGE ON DANCE FEVER. WHAT WAS HE REALLY LIKE? What I learned from Andy: He was dumb like a fox. He always acted confused, befuddled and lost, needing people's help, but it was feigned. He knew exactly what he was doing all the time, so people let down their guard with him. He liked being at Regine's and Studio 54, which were the clubs for the rich and famous, because they could become clients. And Andy's game was selling a portrait painting for $25,000, which he asked me several times to commission from him. Back in the late '70s when I was a kid, that was an ungodly amount of money. His genius was in seeing what other people looked at. He would look at a situation and make a simple, childlike comment that summed up what was happening, in a way that no one else could. He was always outside looking in. He said to me, "Always play to the expensive seats." From '70S DISCO-DANCING TO AMASSING POLLOCKS TODAY: C atherine D. Anspon chats with the impresario behind the Houston Fine Art Fair, owner/founder/director Rick Friedman, who tells tales from the original disco-era dance competition that launched his career (including a brush with Andy Warhol) to how he began in the fair biz and his personal collecting fever for his Hamptons neighbors — the late great masters of Abstract Expressionism. WARHOLS OF YOUR OWN. I have a wonderful Warhol ink-and-gold-leaf drawing of a shoe — before he became famous, he drew shoes for newspaper ads. And I have the seminal prints: Liz, Flowers and the Campbell's Soup Can from his Factory editions. Did you know he got the Flowers idea and inspiration from a June 1964 issue of Modern Photography magazine, which had seven hibiscus printed in a glossy foldout to show the variations in different chemical processes. The serial format appealed to Warhol, so he cropped it as a square showing four of the seven flowers. The photographer sued Warhol. So thereafter, Warhol based his art on photos he took himself. HOW AND WHEN YOU BEGAN AS AN ART COLLECTOR. I began my addiction about 10 years ago, when I purchased a Roy Lichtenstein print of a nude at the beach from Guild Hall museum in East Hampton. (Roy lived in the neighborhood). It cost $2,000, and I had severe buyer's remorse and did not sleep for three nights. Then it grew on me. I decided I wanted to collect local Hamptons- based artists from 1950–1970. Ab Ex, Colorfield, some Pop but mainly the so–called, now famous New York School. It spoke to me, and it was my collector voice. I caught the fever, so to speak, and now have 250 museum-quality artworks, basically from that period or living Hamptons artists, which I lend to museum shows. Now, I never met a painting from the 1950s that I didn't like. Yes, I still have the Lichtenstein print in my guest bathroom, alongside Milton Avery and Franz Kline original works. HOW COLLECTING GOT YOU INTO THE FAIR BIZ. I was inspired by a book, Hamptons Bohemia by Helen Harrison of the Pollock-Krasner House and Study Center, [which was] why I launched ArtHamptons, eight years ago. We had 12,000 art lovers there this year, July 4 weekend. MOST UNDERVALUED AB EX MASTERS TO ACQUIRE. Well, tough to say. If you look at the women of the era, many of their ships have come in during the past eight years, but several have not. So, who's next in the pecking order? Maybe Elaine de Kooning, Hedda Sterne, Grace Hartigan, Perle Fine and Dorothy Dehner. All have serious upside over the next five to eight years. I also think Alex Katz will come in big. Many of the 1970–1980 Houston artists will break big on the national level shortly. Prices will jump. Keep an eye on James Surls, John Biggers and John Alexander. Also, I recommend looking at 1970s Pop artist Marjorie Strider, who recently passed, as the new up-and-comer of Pop art, with Wesselmann and Oldenburg. The smart money is buying her. For Friedman's latest acquisition, how he lives with his collection and his holy grail, read more at papercitymag.com. Houston Fine Art Fair, September 9 – 12, NRG Center, houstonfineartfair.com HOUSTON FINE ART FAIR FOUNDER RICK FRIEDMAN Andy Warhol and Rick Friedman, circa 1979 "I AM THE ONLY PERSON IN THE WORLD TO BUY TWO POLLOCKS IN THE SAME DAY. THEN I NEEDED A DAMN STIFF DRINK." — Rick Friedman Jesús Moroles at work, 1999 A 1990 Moroles exhibition in Houston, at the former Davis/McClain Gallery Rick Friedman to Rockport. (We even dated briefly but were much better as friends.) He epitomized what was possible for an inner-city minority kid from Dallas who went to Vietnam, came out okay (thanks to being in the Air Force rather than infantry), went to art school post Vietnam (earning a BFA from the University of North Texas), was mentored by Luis Jiménez and studied in Pietrasanta, Italy, where Michelangelo quarried his stone. With a will as unyielding as the granite he worked, he literally carved out a career that took him around the world. He was a hero to me, as well as to many others, for remaining true to his Texas roots, giving back to innumerable communities — many art auctions have been distinguished by the presence of a granite Moroles stele — and befriending other artists, whom he often connected with opportunities or recommended for awards. His talent (which was often compared to Noguchi) and imposing yet sensitive granite commissions took him from China to Egypt, Manhattan to Seattle, and earned him a board seat on the Smithsonian American Art Museum as well as the ultimate honor: a National Medal of Arts, bestowed by President Bush in 2008. When news came this June of Moroles' death in a car accident outside of Austin, the Texas art world came to a standstill. What remains is a body of work that stands as a minimalist, timeless expression of an attitude and aesthetic that began with the sculpture of the ancient Egyptians — the alpha to Donald Judd's futurist boxes and stacks, which evoke the omega. Jesús prophetically told me during our Art & Antiques chat, "My time is limited here. I want to leave something more." In our PaperCity interview, he said, "I want to … create the feeling of reverence that one encounters in a Zen garden, Chinese temple or Mrs. de Menil's chapel." And, indeed, he triumphantly did. Catherine D. Anspon JENNY ANTILL CLIFTON GARY FAYE JACK THOMPSON