Interview With Julie Riegel
Letter from the Curator
Robert Capa (Hungarian, 1913–1954), Pablo Picasso & Francoise Gilot, Golfe-Juan, France, August 1948, Gelatin silver print, 11 x 14 inches Courtesy of the Julie Riegel and Suzette Clerou Collection
Bakersfield is home to many impressive private art collections. The origin story and motivation of each vary greatly, yet the passion behind each collector unifies. Recently I interviewed collector and Bakersfield native Julie Riegel whose collection is on display in our currently installed exhibition Black & White: Photographs from the Julie Riegel and Suzette Clerou Collection. Her story and history are remarkable—the thoughts she shares on the ethical and social responsibility of collecting are of great significance.
Rachel Magnus: Please begin by providing an introduction to yourself.
Julie Riegel: I was born in Bakersfield, into a large family, who'd immigrated from France in 1908. I have five siblings and had twenty-one first cousins living here when I grew up. With marriages and new kids being born, there are probably hundreds of us now. When I was young, the town was much smaller. During my high school years, the population was only about 56,000, and the Downtown/Chester Avenue area was the center of everything. With not much to do, we wandered a lot. At some time during the year, you'd run into most everyone who lived here regardless of which side of town you lived.
After high school, I moved to Northern California and wound up living in San Francisco for 45 years. I worked in the media industry in Silicon Valley for Atari and Apple. It was an exciting and wild time during which the personal computer and the internet were born. I retired in 2014, and after close to 50 years, I moved back to Bakersfield.
Manuel Álvarez Bravo (Mexican, 1902–2002), Retrato de lo eterno (Portrait of the Eternal Woman), negative date 1935, Gelatin silver print, 10 x 8 inches, Courtesy of the Julie Riegel and Suzette Clerou Collection
RM: What artwork, artist, or event motivated you to begin your art collection?
JR: On my first visit to NYC, in 1975, I saw Richard Avedon's black and white photography exhibit at the Marlborough Gallery. It was the first time he was selling his images to the public. That's when it all started, and it's when I bought my first photograph.
RM: What has been your most memorable experience in collecting a single piece?
JR: It was definitely when I met Bonni Benrubi at her gallery in New York City. She was welcoming, open-hearted, smart, and passionate about photography and the artists she represented. I knew so little about any of it, and her knowledge and enthusiasm hooked me. One day she showed me Roy DeCarava's image of '5 Men'. The story behind the image is heartbreaking and provoking; the quality of the print was better than anything I'd seen before. It looked like velvet.
Roy DeCarava, 5 Men, 1964, printed 1991, 8 ¼ x 10 ½ inches. Photogravure, Courtesy of the Julie Riegel and Suzette Clerou Collection
When I think about photography and what I learned and collected, it always starts with Bonni.
RM: How do you think collecting art has changed from the time you have started up until now? What change would you like to see from new and experienced collectors?
JR: Photography is more expensive now. There have always been collectors who buy as an investment. Or who want to have the most extensive collection from a particular period or photographer. The prominent collectors were buying Ansel Adams, Dorothea Lange, Cartier-Bresson. I wasn't part of that crowd. I bought what I loved, what sparked a memory, or represented something I believed. It didn't matter who'd taken the photograph.
Something has to excite you to start collecting, which means you have to be exposed to it. All collectors now have more opportunities because of the internet.
Abelardo Morell (Cuban, born 1948), Camera Obscura: Image of Houses Across the Street in our Bedroom, 1991, Gelatin silver print, 20 x 24 inches, Courtesy of the Julie Riegel and Suzette Clerou Collection
RM: What motivates you to collect photography? What is appealing about black and white photography?
JR: I'm not a collector in the truest sense. I didn't set out to build a collection. I was traveling a lot in the '80s and '90s and I'd stop into a gallery and it went from there. Although I admire beautiful paintings, there's something stark and bold about a black and white photograph. Some may disagree, but photos feel less about interpretation and more about real life.
RM: Where (geographically and in the sectors of the art world) does collecting benefit the public?
JR: As long as people can see the collections, there's a tremendous value. Art educates, art expands, art solidifies - the challenge is getting people to view it. Whether it's online, on the street, in schools, in museums, art of all sorts, including controversial pieces, helps people understand the world that they live. Or it inspires them to make the world a better place. A lot of people might not know that art is even available to them. So, you must take it to them.
RM: Where can it be detrimental?
JR: When it's dishonest, used for dishonorable reasons and elitist.
Ralph Eugene Meatyard (American, 1925–1972), Boy with Mask, 1960, printed 1992, Gelatin silver print, 14 x 11 inches, Courtesy of the Julie Riegel and Suzette Clerou Collection.
RM: How else can collectors contribute as educators of their artwork besides exhibitions?
JR: Make their collections available in public places.
RM: How many pieces are in your collection? Are you still actively collecting work?
JR: I currently have 20 photographs, and my sister, Suzette, has 10. We used to have more, but we've given away pieces to family and friends over the years.
Even though I don't get to the galleries as often as I used to, I watch the auctions. They're fascinating, and the prices are competitive.
I'm now more intrigued by the works of amateur photographers. There's an image at a gallery in Chicago done by a 'street' artist that I think about a lot.
Brassaï (French, 1899–1984, Les Escaliers à Montmartre (Staircase in Montmartre), 1932, printed 1973, Gelatin silver print, 9 ¼ x 11 ½ inches , Courtesy of the Julie Riegel and Suzette Clerou Collection.
RM: How has Bakersfield influenced your interests in all art forms, and in collecting. What is the hidden gem of Bakersfield that people should know more about?
JR: I don't think Bakersfield influenced me in collecting, per se. But it did impact what I knew about people. The town has always been about the people who immigrated or moved here for the opportunity to have a better life, including my grandparents. My Mom had so many stories about people who literally walked into Bakersfield with one suitcase and became landowners and built successful businesses.
Even if a photograph doesn't have a person in it, it has a place, which is ultimately about people.
There are a lot of characters in Bakersfield. I'm not sure why. But they made me open my eyes, accept all kinds of ideas, and appreciate a good story. Our most common characteristics are a rugged spirit, a pathos, a love of the land, and heat that makes us tough.
For me, the hidden gems of Bakersfield are still the Kern River Canyon and the vast oil fields past the airport. Our dad used to take us out to the oil fields at night, and we'd listen to the sounds of the rigs clanging away. He told us they sounded like music from a symphony orchestra. Also, our gems are the Basque restaurants on the Eastside, the old Downtown Westchester neighborhoods, and Union Cemetery, where the history of our town is enshrined.
André Kertész (American, born Hungary, 1894 - 1985), Clock of Académie Paris, 1932, printed late 1970s, Gelatin silver print, 10 x 8 inches, Courtesy of the Julie Riegel and Suzette Clerou Collection.
Thank you, Julie, for sharing these words and your stunning photography collection with our community. I speak for all staff when I say how respectfully and eagerly we await opening our doors safely to the public to view Black and White and our other installed exhibitions.
Rachel Magnus
Curator
Bakersfield Museum of Art