In the introduction to a book on an earlier version of their collection, Dick Gallun wrote that his wife Judith McGregor’s and his collection was “accumulated over the entire period of our marriage and in our earlier years as well. It represents a journey of compromise, adaptation and growth. While acquiring art we were, without being aware of our progress, gaining a grasp of artistic techniques, ideals, modes of expression, the use of symbols and symbolism and, importantly, the development of the processes which have given new dimensions to artistic expression. I say subliminally in this connection because through almost all of this period we were, like many, perhaps most, art buyers, just buying what we liked without any attention to what the artist was trying to communicate or what techniques he had developed to facilitate the communication of his idea.
Ilya Zomb’s, After Bath hangs to the left of the fireplace. Mark Mulhern’s, Morning Dog Walk is on the right.“While we now are much more aware of what goes into producing a successful art object and can better appreciate the artistic process, it would be an understatement to say that we still have a lot to learn. Nevertheless, we are aware that our collection has contributed to our personal growth and helped us to gain useful interaction skills, perhaps most important of these being the art of compromise.”
Michael Bergt’s We’ve Got Your Back, a portrait of Dick Gallun with two of his dogs is on the left; D’areo de Newton Copper by Alberto Gálvez is on the right. His History Lesson is in the adjoining room.In Milwaukee, the couple lived in a condominium with floor to ceiling windows overlooking the spectacular Quadracci Pavilion of the Milwaukee Art Museum, designed by Santiago Calatrava. About 10 years ago, they discovered and fell in love with a one-story house in Santa Fe with well-established gardens behind high walls on a quiet cul-de-sac. They now live there permanently with art from Milwaukee and selections from the cream of the crop of Santa Fe artists. Everything “fits” so well I asked if they bought the house with art in mind or if they redid it to accommodate the art.
Canyon de Chelly by Edward S. Curtis (1868-1952) is on the left and on the right is Winter Night Song by Bert Geer Phillips (1868-1956).
Judith recounts, “I don’t know that we even thought about art in this house when we bought it. We just bought it. The house we loved; the garden we loved.” Dick adds, “Our realtor said to us nobody ever bought a house for the landscaping before.”
Michael Bergt’s History Lesson hangs next to Peter Doig’s 100 Years Ago, No. 6.The gardens provide the perfect setting for sculpture including a bench supported on one end by a human figure. Judith laughs, “We bought that in Paris. Who does that?”
Living in Milwaukee, they met Mark Mulhern through Tory Folliard at her eponymous gallery. Tory suggested they go to Mulhern’s studio where he would be happy to show them around. They purchased his Morning Dog Walking for a specific wall in Santa Fe. Have I mentioned dogs? Visitors to their home are greeted by a boisterous, affectionate pile of dogs whose relatives, real and imagined, are represented in many of their owners’ paintings. Judith comments, “Well, look at it. It’s about dogs and we have a ton of dogs. We got to know Mark and bought other paintings. He’s now represented here in Santa Fe by Deborah Fritz at GF Contemporary. When he was in town the last time we went to his opening and then we all went out to dinner and we bought another of his paintings.”
Damien Hirst’s Butterfly Taxidermy and his UP from Sanctum Series hang in the entry. A Tom Philabaum vase is on the right.Their own dogs appear in Michael Bergt’s portrait of Dick, We’ve Got Your Back, which features the wind-blown sailor with two dogs and a hand descending from a cloud. Michael explains “I envisioned the hand to represent a divine-like guidance.” Judith, however, suggests it may have a more earthly, proximate, wifely origin. Dick recalls posing for the portrait, “I arrived at Michael’s studio just as his previous model was putting her clothes back on. So it was natural that we’d become friends.
Ilya Zomb’s After Bath can be seen in the adjoining room. Above the piano are Gavin Turk’s Joseph Beuys and Gérard Rancinan’s Le Banquet des Idoles.
“Generally, we got to know the artists after we bought their pictures and then, many of them have become pretty good friends.”Max Scott is a partner in business with Dick, and his brother Erik did computer work for the couple. Erik told them, “You ought to meet my father,” and arranged for them to go out to his home and studio. Michael Scott, the consummate cook, “cooked us lunch and we’ve been friends ever since,” Dick relates.
An unusual bench the collectors bought in Paris.
Copper Tritscheller’s standing Burro graces the corner.
Eating and meeting with artists seems to be an essential part of their lives. Judith recalls that Sara Jo Fischer, who was then working at NüArt Gallery in Santa Fe where Alexandra Eldridge was showing her work, remarked, “You know, you’re always looking at her work. Let’s go out to lunch. So Sara and Alexandra and I went out to lunch, and we just clicked and we became good friends.” A number of Alexandra’s paintings grace the collection including one of their dog, Lucille.
Alexander Eldridge’s Hare in Chair, hangs in a bedroom.The couple often buy in depth, out of friendship and out of admiration for their artist friends’ work, especially when there is an even deeper connection to the work.
Dick particularly liked Michael Bergt’s History Lesson, which features nude figures based loosely on Manet’s Le Déjuner sur l’herbe posed in front of elements from Picasso’s Guernica.“When I would go to New York,” Dick relates, “I would stay at the Plaza and Guernica, in those days, was right around the corner at the Museum of Modern Art. It was there for over 40 years. I would go and look at it and all the sketches all the time.”
Martin Spei’s Hanging Man “hangs” above a doorway.
In 1968, Dick had rented an office in Milwaukee above an art gallery. Not just any art gallery. Irving Luntz showed major 20th-century artists there and, later, at his gallery in Palm Beach, Florida. “He became a lifelong friend,” Dick says. “He had this beautiful gallery with just about anything you’d want to own. I couldn’t go through his store without him saying ‘I got a new little Picasso print today. It’s only $200,’ and that sort of thing. Irving knew how to play me like a violin. He sold me an incredible amount of stuff. I was buying what I really liked and often giving it away.”
Melinda Hall’s Red Dog: Street Smart is one of the collectors’ dog-themed paintings.
On one sofa in their home, there is a painted pillow of a French bulldog, not theirs but a reasonable facsimile thereof. Above it is Little San Ildefonso Girl, by Henry C. Balink. Dick had given the painting to Judith because the girl looks like her daughter. “In fact,” Judith says, “Her son was here not so long ago and he said…‘That’s my Mom!’”
Little San Ildefonso Girl, by Henry C. Balink (1882-1963) hangs above a pillow depicting a French bulldog—bearing a striking resemblance to the French bulldog in the collectors’ menagerie of dogs and birds.
There are stories and relationships behind most of the art in their collection, making it and their home a welcoming oasis in the high desert of New Mexico. —
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