When we were asked to compose something for this catalog, we were both a bit hesitant, to be honest. After all, it is much easier to collect art than it is to explain why you collect art. The process of collecting is very natural to some yet seems incomprehensible to others. It may be as simple as the fact that some people by nature love to surround themselves with things, while others appreciate a Spartan and uncluttered space. To those of us who collect, this constant state of acquiring should lead to some sort of learning experience, a relationship directly between the collector and the object.

This relationship should be one of mutual respect. The object respects you as a custodian, and you have to respect the object as something that has come your way and found a place in your life. Nothing lasts forever, but these pieces will be around long after we are gone, and we hope that while we are all here we can enjoy one another's company.

We are often asked what attracts us to pieces of art. I don't think that either of us can answer that question except by pointing to certain details on the objects themselves. Here for example, it is the sense of balance; there it is the interplay of angles–each object has its own story to tell. Sometimes you feel like asking, "What are you all about?" If only these pieces could tell their own stories. Sadly though they can't, and this brings us to the theme of this catalog, namely that these objects are the remains of larger structures–more than just a sculpted mask or figure. These objects are part of a way of life that reaches us in the form of remnants that are presumed to be what the Western collector wants. The greater picture of traditional usage is lost: one part has ended up on a trash heap, the other on a pedestal.

Of paramount importance, then, is the experience of learning from collecting. Certainly this is more important than acquiring. To some, the chase is the most exciting part, so a rare trophy object will leave soon after it arrives in such hands. We have always felt that each piece that came to us taught us something. Perhaps it was an ethnographic issue such as the use of the object in magical or protective practices, or it may have been an aesthetic issue: why the object is a lousy example compared to others–even though we loved it. Each acquisition is a new chance to learn, and in this spirit we have asked Arthur Bourgeois and Scott Rodolitz to speak on behalf of our pieces. We imagine that in these capable hands, our objects will feel that they have had their fair say–and then some.

It has also always been important to us not to be obsessed with the history of the pieces after leaving Africa. We have made decisions based on quality and personal taste. It is strange to see how the question of the quality of African Art has become confused with the famous collectors who have owned the objects in the past. This is a case of not seeing the forest for the trees. The fact is that the "great" collectors had less interest in an object's provenance than its emotive qualities. For this reason, we have omitted the history of the pieces from the descriptions, though each piece has its own particular history since its departure from Africa. We want the pieces to speak for themselves, about themselves, not tell us how they came to be here in this show.

On another level altogether we should address how two brothers share a collection. It's not easy. We have tried to rotate pieces between us while each has chosen some favorites. However, both of us sometimes fall in love with the same objects, and then it gets complicated. Suffice to say, it is always amicable, and we have always found ways for both of our homes to be sufficiently cluttered.

We hope that above all else those who have never come into contact with African Art will learn something about the forms and styles and be inspired to seek out more information. If someone who has never encountered African Art walks away from this exhibit with a sense of respect for the cultures, we would consider that a great success.

If we are quiet, if we have let go of our preconceptions, we can hear the pieces speaking to us.

Listen. . . .

David and Clifford Gelbard

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