Written By Joanne Morvay Weant
When Cindy Pehl and Doug Metz mention their hobby to strangers, the couple knows by now to expect an awkward reaction.
“You tell people you collect black American art and the response is ÔReally?’,” said Pehl.
So far, no one has said what Pehl and Metz are sure they’re thinking: The couple. who have been married for almost 11 years, are not African American. They are white.
Although there is certainly no requirement that collectors of black American art be black themselves (and there are a large number of white collectors around), it’s an assumption many people make.
Of course, that isn’t the only stereotype about art collecting that Pehl, 46, and Metz, 57, shatter.
Most people would assume that a private collection of this size –172 pieces and growing –would be displayed in a specially-built, climate-controlled gallery in a fabulous mansion.
But this collection was born out of love, not wealth. And Pehl and Metz buy art because it is their passion, not an investment designed to make them financially comfortable in retirement.
So there is no fancy gallery. Pehl and Metz, both in the banking industry, live with their art and their dogs, which have been rescued from much worse fates, in an airy Eldersburg split level.
The collection itself, however, is anything but casual. According to Eileen Berger, a regional expert on black American art who operates her own gallery in Hagerstown, the Pehl Collection is one of the largest private collections of art created by women and minority artists on the East Coast.
Berger says the size of the collection makes it very significant. Even more interesting is that Pehl and Metz began collecting less than a dozen years ago.
Friends have compared the couple’s home to a museum. Original works by a variety of artists fill nearly every inch of visible wall space in many rooms. As with the old Haussner’s Restaurant in Baltimore, where 19th century European and American paintings filled the walls from ceiling to floor, the initial effect can be overwhelming.
Soon, what seemed off-putting appears charmingly original. If nothing else, the melange of works is endlessly interesting. Bold splashes of color, the unique textures of mixed media pieces and the subtler points of fine drawings and paintings compete for the viewer’s attention.
Each piece tells multiple stories: The story behind the image itself, that of the person who created it and the account of how Pehl and Metz found it and brought it into their collection.
One look at the happy riot of color and framing and it is obvious that the couple did not get into art collecting as a way to spruce up their decor.
“Color is not anything that restrains us,” Metz said with a chuckle. One of his biggest pet peeves is the idea of buying a painting to match the sofa or, worse yet, not buying it because it doesn’t.
Metz and Pehl did not set out to be collectors. In 1994, Metz was on a contract assignment at a bank in Hagerstown when he watched an art gallery open nearby.
At the time, Pehl was weaning her artistic taste away from the copies of the Masters phase that so many people seem to go through: “The poor prints of the greats,” she said.
Metz was determined that Pehl see the black American art at Berger’s Just Lookin’ Gallery. Berger is quick to point out that black art is not simply paintings filled with black imagery. Although black imagery certainly has its place, “Black Americans create all sorts of art,” said Berger. “Landscapes, abstracts, florals, sculpture.”
Pehl’s first purchase was a bright floral called “Flower Sculpture” by Grace Kisa, a Kenya-born artist who now lives in Atlanta.
“I was fascinated by the texture and the color,” Pehl said, gesturing at the acrylic painting hanging among the 39 works that now fill her living room.
A second piece by another artist followed, and another after that and “somewhere along the way it became more than just putting art on the wall,” said Pehl.
The Pehl Collection contains works by women, pieces by artists in developing nations, and 34 works by Maryland artists, 16 of which are by Carroll Countians. Most notable are paintings, collages, sculptures and more by nationally acclaimed black artists such as James Denmark, Selma Glass, Cal Massey, Verna Hart, Alfred Hair and Charly Palmer. The artists are represented in better known and more widely celebrated collections of black American art as well.
Pehl said that she made a conscious decision to collect works by minorities, including women. It was a way, she thought, to support artists who often cannot live on the income generated by their art alone.
Minority artists “get less attention at shows” and usually have limited funds to promote their work, said Berger.
Nine years ago, Metz began curating the collection in order to give it the attention it deserved. Although the collection bears her name, said Pehl, it would not be what it is without Metz’s work as curator.
According to Berger, “Cataloging is key. It keeps you up to date and lets you know what you have.
“They do have pieces in their collection that are worth considerably more than the acquisition price; not that they care,” she said.
The first time Berger appraised The Pehl Collection, she said, “Doug called me back because he was sure I’d made a mistake.”
Pehl and Metz do not disclose the value of their collection. It is well-insured, however. The financial value of a piece has little to do with the couple’s opinion of it. Asked to highlight some favorites, Pehl and Metz are hard-pressed to choose. “Each piece is so unique and so special,” said Pehl.
What the couple enjoys most about their art, beyond its inherent beauty, is their interaction with the artists themselves. “Cindy and Doug,” said Berger, “have met a very large percentage of the artists in their collection, which doesn’t necessarily happen with all collectors.”
Gazing at “Freedom,” a moving graphite and ink print of souls ascending to heaven created by Baltimore-based artist Tommy Roberts, Pehl says what makes the work even more remarkable is that Roberts has muscular dystrophy and must support one hand with the other just to complete a piece.
Holding a framed pastel by artist and retired CIA agent Antonio J. Mendez, Pehl noted that “Tony was one of the CIA’s 50 Trailblazers. He used to get people out from behind the Iron Curtain by making them up in elaborate disguises.”
Alhough he never met him, Metz is partial to the story of the late Alfred Hair. Hair was one of the acclaimed Highwaymen, a group of roving black artists who painted landscapes in Florida from the 1950s through the 1970s and sold them along the highways. Pehl and Metz own “Storm Rising,” an oil painted on Upson board of a stormy ocean, some palm trees and a dark sky. A method painter if there ever was one, Hair “could paint that in 15 minutes,” said Metz. “He had to get eight more done so he could sell them down the highway that Friday.”
Every September, Pehl and Metz host an open house featuring one of their favorite artists. The event, scheduled this year for September 29, is not open to the public, but the couple tell friends to bring their friends and anyone else they think would be interested. It is not unusual for Pehl and Metz to make multiple new acquaintances as they wander the rooms of their own home. Last year, 200 people attended, said Metz.
The open house has endeared the couple to the community of minority artists they so ardently believe in, Berger said, because the featured artist usually sells multiple works at the event.
Pehl and Metz receive no monetary compensation for their big bash. They would never take a commission from the sale of the featured artist’s work, Pehl said. And the pieces in their own collection are absolutely not for sale.
“It’s purely about the art,” said Metz. “There’s no other agenda.”
Bernie Jones, treasurer of the Carroll County chapter of the NAACP, met Pehl and Metz at one of their first open houses. The couple invited NAACP members because they thought they might have an interest in seeing the collection. Pehl has since endowed an annual scholarship through the chapter.
“It’s amazing that our (the county’s) Arts Council has not shown any of this art,” said Jones. The collection is “like a quietly kept secret, but they’re not private about it.”
Pehl and Metz say they’ve explored ways of bringing their collection into a public forum because they believe black American art, and especially black American artists, deserve more widespread recognition. Pehl already worries about what will become of the collection in years to come.
“I would really love for this collection to stay in the county and have value long after we’re gone,” she said.
As yet, the right arrangement has not presented itself.
