The Great Ones - The Magazine Antiques

Jerry Lauren’s extraordinary collecting journey.

Jerry Lauren at his dining room table, which he designed with his late wife, Susan. Reflected in the wall-sized mirror is a c. 1900 “Indian chief” weathervane by J. L. Mott Ironworks. Given its subject and scale, this vane was likely made as a special commission for a community institution or a fraternal lodge. Behind Lauren are drawings by Bill Traylor (c. 1853–1949).

In November 2019, a powerful red tempera and graphite depiction of a man smoking next to a gesticulating woman had just arrived at Christie’s. The bold, bright piece with its ghostly abandoned underdrawing was a powerhouse work by artist Bill Traylor. I removed the frame’s backing to check for inscriptions, and saw an angry, red-tongued dog, mouth agape, positioned vertically with a gesturing man. Steven Spielberg had given this drawing to author Alice Walker after he filmed an adaptation of her novel The Color Purple, but neither knew the piece was double -sided.

Eight stellar Bill Traylor drawings are displayed with a small 1858 double-sided face jug attributed to Henry Remmey Jr. (active c. 1818–1878), Philadelphia. The central Traylor image, Man with Black Dog, previously in the collection of author Alice Walker, is double-sided; the recto, Man on White, Woman on Red, is shown above. The oversized Traylor on the far right is also a rare double-sided work.

I immediately thought of Jerry Lauren and, while still looking at the back of the painting, called him to come see the work. He was astounded. For him, art has always been a “love of perfection” in its many forms, and he found it in Man on White, Woman on Red / Man with Black Dog (double-sided). Jerry acquired the remarkable drawing in January 2020. “I had to have it home. It was snowing,” he recalls. “I said this to Christie’s deputy chairman and auctioneer John Hays. He ran through the snow, got a cab for us, and we carried it to my apartment. It was one of my great moments.”

During the lonely COVID isolation that followed, Jerry found solace in the beauty and stories of his art. In the bleak months of 2020, especially, we spoke on the phone about the joyful, comforting presence these objects hold in their aesthetic power and through the narratives that chronicle Jerry’s and his late wife, Susan’s, journey through the art world. “When we found the great ones, we knew it.” I ask how this journey began. “In the early 1980s we found a house in a bucolic small town in Litchfield County, Connecticut, vintage 1785, and it changed our lives. We needed to furnish and fill our new home. We found local country auctions and they became our entertainment and our discovery of American art.” Jerry and Susan met dealers Sy and Susan Rapaport, who became their trusted advisors and dear friends. “The Rapaports taught us how to look at this art and understand and recognize authenticity and quality as we searched for the best.”

The late nineteenth-century leaping stag weathervane, from a home in Rye, New Hampshire, once belonged to entrepreneur Marshall Field (1834–1906).

Fox, Mother and Child, and Lion by William Edmondson (c. 1874–1951) encircle the living room. The artist worked in discarded limestone, and each of these remarkable sculptures hints at the original block of stone used. The subjects arise seemingly in reaction to their material: the oversized Lion emerges from an enormous slab, while the intimate Mother and Child is delicately executed from a smaller block.

Jerry and Susan became formidable forces in the Americana collecting community with the acquisition of some of the most remarkable weathervanes. “They are truly masterpieces. The hunt was on, even to the extent that I was on the phone, bidding on an extraordinary weathervane, on the morning after my younger son Greg’s wedding. Sometime later, we were told about a six-foot locomotive that was going up at Skinner’s . . . every detail of the spokes on the wheels and the verdigris had perfectly aged.”

Indeed, the circa 1890 locomotive, which once stood atop a Massachusetts railroad building, with its elegant, finely crafted elements, proves the idea of weathervanes as ingenious sculpture. In some ways, it’s hard to imagine this impressive object atop a massive building when it feels so in place displayed on a pedestal in an apartment. But, its elegance in the space is no accident; rather it is a testament to the Laurens’ brilliant sense of design. When Susan first saw the weathervane, Jerry recalls, she said “I love it, but where would it fit?” His response: “Susan, do you love it? We’ll find a place.” The Laurens’ purchase of the record-breaking J. L. Mott “Indian chief ” weathervane at Sotheby’s in October 2006 solidified their reputation as major art-world players and brought new levels of attention to weathervanes and Americana.

A remarkable locomotive weathervane, c. 1890, which once stood atop a Massachusetts railroad building.

From the Grosse Pointe, Michigan, home of Josephine and Walter Buhl Ford, the enormous vane remains unaltered, its surface perfectly imperfect through years of exposure and the aging process. Its shiny gold leaf has been replaced by variegated verdigris and exposed copper, nodding to its original state but speaking to its years of service and its reality. The scale is awesome, the detail of his feathered headdress, arrows, and clothing still crisp. The figure’s stance is majestic. “The auction was the ultimate challenge, and I got it. Winning that weathervane was an out-of-body experience.”

Drinking Man with Dog by Traylor, 1939. Early Traylor advocate Charles Shannon (1914–1996) recorded the artist’s description of the piece, inscribing “He so drunk he step right over the dog” on the reverse. The first Traylor acquired by the Laurens, this smoking man is distinctive for the unique, striking green paint.

Furious Man by Jean-Michel Basquiat (1960–1988), 1982, hangs above Traylor’s double-sided Mean Dog, with Traylor’s Man with Green Shirt on the adjacent wall. Three carved and painted beasts by Felipe Benito Archuleta (1910–1991) round out this “furious corner.”

Jerry and Susan didn’t stop at the traditional boundaries of Americana. They sought great American works, period, and were especially drawn to those by Bill Traylor. “Sy Rapaport showed me a few Traylor images, then Susan and I went to Frank Maresca’s showroom. Frank had this painted figure in a green shirt with a cigarette and a cane. A very simple figure, but great. I called my daughter, Jenny, who is an artist, to come to the showroom. I said to her, ‘What do you think?’ She said ‘Dad, I love it.’ That was the beginning.”

The first Traylor acquired by the Laurens, this smok- ing man is distinctive for the unique, striking green paint.

“Bill Traylor was untrained, an ex-slave creating art on the streets of Montgomery, Alabama, as he was observing people and places and remembering his history. I love every Traylor that I own, and they are each different in their surprising elements.” Within Jerry’s seventeen Traylor drawings, the range is striking. Man on White, Woman on Red / Man with Black Dog shows the artist working through composition, form, and structure, and the finished piece is a perfect record of Traylor’s artistic process, complete with its abandoned underdrawings, switch in orientation of his page, and an exploration of the paper in its double-sided entirety. Another, 1939’s beautifully crisp tempera, Drinking Man with Dog, revels in direct and assertive brushstrokes, demonstrating a different artistic process.

A group of four remarkable stoneware vessels, including an eagle-decorated water cooler attributed to Henry Remmey Sr. (b. c. 1770) or Jr., Baltimore, c. 1812–1829, at top left, and a c. 1850–1860 four-gallon face jug, attributed to Remmey Jr. while working in Philadelphia. In the center is a churn depicting four marching Civil War soldiers, from New York State, c. 1861–1865; and, on the floor, a churn depicting a spaniel, stamped by N. Clark and Co., Rochester, New York.

And Jerry pushed things further. “I saw a [ Jean-Michel] Basquiat in an upcoming auction at Christie’s. It came from the collection of Andy Williams, which was very interesting because his collection was eclectic, including Americana. I was astounded by the Basquiat.” Featuring the barely harnessed energy and electricity of the greatest Basquiat works, the crisp and vibrant Furious Man has a frenetic and bold presence; the white hair on the figure seems a reference to the artist’s good friend Andy Warhol.

I asked Jerry how he decided, at that 2013 auction, to include this piece of “contemporary” art in his collection: “I thought it was true American folk art. It was about going for the best. I had scribbled my budget on an envelope as I sat in the sale room with Sy. I threw away the envelope and went for it. It was another miracle.”

A c. 1850–1875 polo player weathervane gallops behind three important decoys: a rare merganser by Lothrop Holmes (1824–1899), Massachusetts, from his personal rig; a c. 1870 Canada goose from Massachusetts, previously in the collection of art historian Adele Earnest (1901–1993); and a c. 1900 preening eider drake by Maine artist Augustus “Gus” Wilson (1864–1950).

Much has been written about Jerry and Susan’s collection, and their precision and patience are frequently highlighted. Their focus was never quantity, and they never felt rushed to fill in gaps, instead waiting patiently for incredible objects to emerge—seeking the “twelves” on a scale of one to ten. A further focus has been the connection between Jerry’s professional life as head of menswear for Ralph Lauren and his collecting aesthetic. The layered textures and understated elegance that appear in Ralph Lauren designs echo through his 1923 Park Avenue apartment. White couches, glass tables, and original herringbone floors add depth through texture and dimension that perfectly complement the art.

The three whimsical, oversized devil jugs from the 1920s–1930s are attributed to E. J. Brown of Arden, North Carolina; two of them are incised “Brown Pottery.” Above them is Traylor’s hefty Black Boar.

In previous articles, Lauren rightly extols the importance of his works’ original purposes. But what of their current function as a group? What do they tell us about the possibilities and expansions of American art? This selection of diverse American objects and artworks reevaluates the boundaries of traditional categorization and aesthetic
hierarchies. The Basquiat work on paper shares a wall with a vibrant, massive Bill Traylor and hangs adjacent to three exceptionally large stoneware face vessels. Weathervanes abound in the adjoining rooms, their verdigris and patina balancing the bright, fiery colors featured on the drawings. It works. It creates visual resonance. Whether the Laurens set out to push categorical boundaries, they certainly have done so.

This c. 1924 car-and-driver weathervane originally stood atop a grocery store/fueling station in Lexington, Massachusetts. It now overlooks Park Avenue.

These unexpected juxtapositions also push intriguing conversations between artworks, forcing a deeper reading of each object. Visual interactions between the furious Traylor dog and Basquiat’s Furious Man drive home the stylistic strengths of the artists. One can’t help but consider the physicality of each creator: a young Basquiat rapidly and energetically marking his page versus an elderly Traylor, working with a more considered, contemplative gesture. The freshness of Basquiat’s page, versus the repurposed, marked, scuffed paper of Traylor’s. The immediacy of fame versus the slow burn of a lifelong artistic incubation. In contrast to these works on paper, the remarkable weathervanes are beholden to the slow shifts in surface that develop over time, their power, richness, and depth reinforced by temporality. Surface is paramount, but the perfect surface can take many different forms.

The Laurens designed the glass coffee table in the living room, which is flanked by white- upholstered sofas and floor lamps by Ralph Lauren, creating a sense of calm and allowing the art to take center stage.

In the eighth anniversary issue of Antiques and Fine Arts, Jerry said that for him to acquire a piece, “The object should be the perfect example of that particular form. . . . The object has to have its own life.” What happens when, governed by this approach, one builds a collection that spans from weathervanes and decoys to Basquiat and William Edmondson? According to Jerry, “It’s not a collection. It’s a happening. It was happening all along.” Just as the Laurens ignored boundaries of Americana, they were not constrained by the limits of a “collection”—a state of being in or out.

A view of Lauren’s den, featuring his collection of mint condition 1920s Buddy L vehicles and a 2013 BE@RBRICK cast-resin figure. Lauren’s own 1962 portrait of Nobel Prize–winning author Bertrand Russell (1872–1970), visible on the lower right shelf, displays his talent as an artist and draftsman. Lauren’s favorite photograph of his daughter sits on the lower left shelf.

This “happening,” then, succeeds and successfully pushes boundaries because of its precision and focus. There are no extraneous works. William Edmondson’s subtle, elegant Fox was acquired two years ago at Christie’s and now has pride of place in the living room, seemingly floating above a sofa in front of a large, unique, wooden
rooster weathervane of about 1785.

Fox flourishes because it engages the other Edmondsons in the room, each of which presents the artist’s work
through a different lens: of strength and power (Lion), of intimacy and delicacy (Mother and Child), and of devotion and faith (Ram). Ultimately, the pursuit of quality, authenticity, strength, and discovery are the common threads throughout the Laurens’ carefully selected, wide-ranging works.

“There’s never a day that I don’t love what Susan and I discovered. It is pretty amazing.”