I AM NOT A CURATOR. I didn’t even major in art history. What I’ve learned about art has been mostly autodidactic — that and a couple of stop-and-start conversations with curators, friends and other individuals considerably more informed than I am about such heady things. I do know that I love art and, more importantly, that ever since I started taking an interest in art, in earnest, it’s been an endless source of fascination.

Some part of that fascination undoubtedly lies in the bewildering fortunes dished out to acquire rare commodities at the auction houses, the likes of Christie’s and Sotheby’s. The value structure alone is baffling. One Wednesday in early February, in an extraordinarily well-maintained 18th-century row house along King Street in London’s St. James, a portrait of “supermodel” Kate Moss, naked, pregnant and lying on a bed, sold at auction for $7.29 million. Aptly titled “Naked Portrait 2002,” the painting is by Lucian Freud, widely acknowledged as one of the world’s most famous living painters, who also happens to be the grandson of none other than Dr. Sigmund Freud, to whom we dubiously owe so much… Even if you or I have never been psychoanalyzed, we certainly know someone who has.

Even more curious is that the nude Moss was purchased via telephone by an anonymous soul, not an unusual thing in and of itself, but a fact which leads you to wonder, quite frankly, about the bidder. A Moss fan? A Freud fanatic? A nude portrait collector? Where to begin with this high-stakes player? These are questions posed to a human blank canvas, colored only by our imaginations.

And this, it turns out, might just be art’s most intriguing aspect of all.

Its great seductive power lies not only in the chef d’oeuvre itself, its brushstrokes, its subject, nor solely in its creator, but as much in its lover. I’m talking about the museum-goer, the commissioner, the buyer, the seller, the collector of the work.

Here in Ocala, there is a name that more than a decade ago became synonymous with great collections: Appleton. Most of us have had the pleasure of visiting the eponymous marble-clad gift to this fine City, and all of us, hopefully, are thrilled that the museum is now squarely in the good hands of a patron of the arts of its very own: CFCC.

But another name has been steadily creeping onto the Ocala collecting scene, and indeed sighing its way onto the lips of those in-the-know around the globe. That name is White. If you don’t know it yet, you may have come across it next to the words “From the Private Collection of” while visiting the Tate in London, the Alte Nationalgalerie in Berlin, or even, the Appleton.

It’s a curious thing about Drs. Michele and F. Ashley White; they’re not at all the couple you would expect to enter onto the collecting scene, never mind make a dent or even paint a name for themselves upon its outwardly elitist sides. They are a study in contrasts — themselves in a sort of chiaroscuro — parts of them unabashedly revealed, other parts intriguingly veiled in what I can only guess is a shy attempt at unpretentious self-preservation. Outgoing, open, honest and quick-to-laugh as they are — that is, prodigiously — they are equally reserved, content to keep as low a profile as possible. They are at once extraordinary individuals and an ordinary American, pick-up-driving family. They are self-made, modest and frugal, but are one of only four Marion County couples to be named to the “Florida 400” (Florida’s equivalent to the Forbes list), alongside the considerably more visible Travolta and Preston, Appletons and Dunlaps.

Most importantly — for this article, anyway — is that as of today, they own over 100 Impressionist, Post-Impressionist, Realist and Modernist artworks, but not a single piece resides in their home, an unassuming and practical Spanish-style house they designed and built themselves somewhere within the 100-acre cattle ranch they call Black Sink. Their cows, too, though, are exceptional: Belted Galloways, an extraordinary disease-free breed with two layers of fur numbering only 10,000 worldwide, capable of ingesting virtually any poisonous plant without consequence.

These few facts are but a sip from the waters of the bottomless White well, a well arguably spring-fed, for the Whites appear to have no bounds to their energy or their interests. Who are they? What is their secret? Why art?

1995 WAS THE BANNER YEAR. By then — just a couple years away from officially “retiring” from the successful maxillofacial pathology practice they were running together — and both in their early 30s, they purchased their first piece: one of Monet’s 1878 sunrise works, known as the “dark version” or “black sunrise.”
As Ashley put it, “Poetically, it was the sunrise on our great adventure.” Thus the dawn rose on the White collection, not a haphazard piecing together of come-what-may, but a methodically applied series of decisions — and taking of chances — that would ultimately culminate in their goal of owning works from every Impressionist. It’s a goal they’ve nearly achieved.

Over the last decade, the Whites have acquired 53 works by Cezanne, Degas, Guillaumin, Manet, Pissarro, Monet (a few more, that is), Renoir, Morisot, Sisley and Matisse. Cassatt and Caillebotte may be the only two Impressionists they don’t have just yet. After the first Monet, they purchased their second: one of a group of six 1874 paintings of a snowy scene at Argenteuil. Then came the Matisse etchings illustrating James Joyce’s Ulysses (both Ulysses and the drawings were initially banned as obscene in these United States) and, later, the original copper plates. These etchings include what one curator, Dr. Amy Dickerson at the Thomas Center Main Gallery, called Matisse’s “first portrayal of physical agony,” the blinding of Polyphemus. It is, thus, a pivotal piece in the artist’s career.

Just last year, the Whites broadened their horizons again by exploring 20th-century movements, boldly adding 59 pieces by Picasso, 10 dating from 1931 and 49 dating from 1945.

Please, read that again. That’s 59. Picassos. And they hadn’t even been looking for Picassos.

To a neophyte like me, this is unimaginable. And the story behind their acquisition only makes the pieces more interesting.

From a friend in the former Soviet Union (A ha! say I, for the ex-U.S.S.R. immediately triggers suspicions of covert dealings — making the whole affair more interesting right from the start), the Whites learned of an estate sale from the family of Bruno Cassirer, a prominent German art publisher and dealer of the early 1900s, who, alongside his brother, Paul, was largely responsible for introducing Impressionism to Germany. Bruno and Paul were cousins of Ernst Cassirer, a neo-Kantian philosopher, who counted among his friends Einstein and Heidegger.

The estate list from these movers and shakers of pre-World War II Germany contained not only the Picassos, which were initially just a secondary interest, but also historically significant bibles and sacred texts originally belonging to the library of a Virginian, one Thomas Teackle, a 17th-century Anglican clergyman. The library was cataloged in 1697 and considered one of, if not the largest library in the New World, containing volumes like The Egyptian Book of the Dead and letters belonging to the Apostle Paul, all from as far back as the early 1400s (that’s before even printing was invented).

The recently settled estate had been in probate since the 1950s in Berlin of all places (more intrigue here, of course, what with the geopolitical turmoil of that region throughout the 20th century). It happens that a small group of Russian investors learned of the Whites’ interest in the estate and placed a hold bid on it first, not because they actually wanted the items but because they could. Such is the way of the world, it seems.

Having been in this “business” for a decade, Ashley and Michele knew that they might be able to concoct a deal of sorts. In fact, the complexity of the situation made it even more exciting for them.

“We like those [complex] situations the most,” says Ashley, “because we can sit back, look at the big picture — literally — and get everyone together, speak with them and show them all a win-win situation.”
In this case, they knew that the Russians did not want the estate items. They found out that what the Russians were actually after was an Andy Warhol collection located in Chicago.

According to the Whites, the global art market starts at about 2 a.m. E.S.T., a time apparently convenient for the entire world to conduct art transactions (incidentally, that’s 7 a.m. in London, noon in Moscow, 4 p.m. in Tokyo and 11 p.m. the day before in Los Angeles). A few late nights later, the Whites were able to get the Chicago collector to sell the Warhols to the Russians, who then released their bid on the estate in Berlin (which had originated all over Europe, then landed in Virginia, then made it back to Europe), thereby clearing the path for the Whites to get to the bibles and the Picassos.

These, among other elements of the estate, are now in Paris, awaiting the arrival of their new owners, who will visit in July and arrange for archival framing and begin to explore the acquisitions’ museum-touring options.
Frankly, it sounds like the outline of a bestselling Tom Clancy/Dan Brown/Indiana Jones story to me. Then again, mysteries are no stranger to the Whites, for Michele happens to have penned two medical suspense novels published by Random House: Fatal Coverage (1999) and Organ Donor (2004). But back to the non-literary arts…

FOR THE WHITES, collecting is as much, if not more so, an intellectual and even altruistic pursuit rather than an acquisitive one. Long before they bought their first piece, they had established goals and directions. They weren’t going to collect for the sake of their home, to hang art on their walls and keep it from the rest of the world, but to preserve it for public enjoyment, as many collectors in fact do.

A traveling collection is what they wanted, one that museums, charities, hospitals, colleges, institutions of all kinds could borrow, for a designated time, for exhibitions, fundraisers, to print in cards and calendars for sale and so on.

“It’s as if [the organizations] were leasing the works,” notes Ashley of the collection, as leasing has become an increasingly popular phenomenon with some of the larger museums. Even law firms and corporations have gotten into leasing artworks they or their stockholders could never permit themselves to purchase. As for the Whites’ collection, its calendar is set more or less through 2009.

And some of their motivations for collecting have changed over the years. “We started collecting before the birth of our son,” says Ashley, “but I have become more diligent that the collection can be something for him to continue loaning to help others throughout his life so that his family can enjoy that feeling.”

They do maintain a wish list — a “secret list,” as Ashley put it — of the work they hope to someday acquire. It takes an intense amount of research and a fair monitoring of the networks that continuously chatter away into the ears of the art world to know what becomes available when and where.

Diametrically, in conversation, any-​time you remark on how interesting their lives are, Ashley is quick to deny it, saying that they’re just “regular folks.” And while they are laid-back, friendly, sparkling in fact, I’m hard-pressed to name anybody I know who has had adventures approaching theirs. Consider that in our last conversation, the phrases “hang out with Phil Collins,” “found a shed full of Whistler stuff,” and “recently discovered works of Mary Cassatt” all came up within seconds of each other.

How do the Whites, then, stay so grounded? Most obvious is that their love of art is deeply personal. They have an interesting way to look at artwork, can name no favorite piece, but can identify parts of paintings that they are particularly drawn to, where the attraction lies not in the big picture, but in the curve of a line, in a brushstroke, or in the feeling evoked in a scene just in the corner of a vast canvas.

Says Ashley, “There is a peace, or time stops, when you are really looking or feeling like you’re inside the moment of the painting — like in a party painting by Renoir. It’s painted like you are sitting across the table from your friends.”

It’s not simply through their collection that they stay grounded. Life on a ranch, they say, keeps them close to nature and to an understanding of the outdoors. Michele, too, “plays” outdoors — running marathons all over the world. She placed first in her division in January’s Ocala Marathon and will run in Belgium and along China’s Great Wall this spring.

They read mysteries — Carl Hiassen, John Grisham and Sue Grafton — and clerical texts — Martin Luther and the Pope — and poetry — Neruda and Keats. They take pride in their work — all of it. They find the spotlight that has lately shined upon them a little strange, though I have suspicions that it’s just a glimmer of the attention that they will get over their lifetimes. But in the modern way of life, sometimes seeing as happy a family as the Whites is weird for many of us.

“Our marriage and business partnership are what has made it possible — shared goals and planning,” wrote Ashley in a recent letter. “Nothing miraculous.

“I think people wonder why we are happy,” he said later. “It seems, in today’s world, that most story lines are all tragedy and drama — sad stuff. Maybe it’s good to hear once in a while a story about somebody who made hard choices that anybody could make, but maybe didn’t have the heart to…” How fitting, then, is the old sign along the road to their ranch inscribed with the Latin, “Fortes Fortuna Juva,” “Fortune favors the brave.”
So the Latin comes full circle, for the Hippocrates’ aphorism that begins “Art is long, life is short,” ends “opportunity is fleeting, experiment treacherous and judgment difficult.” It brings to mind the notion that life is long only when you’ve made the wrong decisions, and that it’s short when you’ve made the right ones. The Whites are brave, they have taken their chances where opportunity has knocked, and they have done so not only in art, but in many aspects of their lives. For as blessed as they are, no one’s life is charmed, and the Whites have, like all of us, faced their own set of tragedies as well.

Another writer once said of them, “The Whites are not just model citizens. They are quiet visionaries and dedicated humanitarians who make us proud to be part of the same community.”

Lucky for us, Ocala will always be their home, even though it may never be home to their collection.

father figure
Known as the “Father of Impressionism” Camille Pissarro painted rural and urban French life, particularly landscapes in and around Eragny and  Pontoise. As with the two works shown above — “Les Porteuses de Faggots,” c. 1890 (woodcut by Lucian Pissaro) and
“Untitled Harvest,” c. 1890, original dry point — Pissarro showed an empathy for peasants and laborers, and sometimes evidences his radical political leanings. Nevertheless, he became one of the most influential members of the French Impressionist movement, not only as an artist, but also as a teacher becoming the only artist to participate in all eight Impressionist exhibitions and serving as mentor to Paul Cézanne and Paul Gauguin among others. 

(Top) picture perfect
 “Ein Atelier Batignolles” by Henri Fantin Latour, c. 1870, is a rare type of German photograph, but what’s interesting according to Ashely White,  is the group gathered in the picture. “Scholder, Manet, Renoir, Bazille, E. Zola, Claude Monet and Cezanne… it was odd for them to be all together, but they do have one thing in common — Manet’s sister-in-law, Berthe Morisot. Not only was she an Impressionist painter, Morisot also managed them.”

(Bottom) carving an impression
Edouard Manet, “La Parisienne (Mme. De Callias),” c. 1874, original woodcut. A woodcut print is a printmaking technique whereby the artist carves a block of wood with a knife and chisel; fine grained wood is normally used, which onced carved leaves a raised surface that is rolled with block ink and printed. These images were loved and appreciated by the Impressionist and Post-Impressionist artists and were an important factor in the development of modern art. Opposite: Camille Pissarro, “Heuerinnen” or “Les Faneuses,” c. 1890, original soft ground.

sketch appeal
Clockwise from top left: Edouard Manet, “Portrait of Berthe Morisot,” c. 1872, original soft ground; Paul Cezanne, “Untitled Portrait,” c. 1880, original soft ground; Pablo Picasso, “Metamorphoses,” c. 1931; Alfred Sisley, “Untitled River,” c. 1876, original dry point.

it’s all figurative
Top: Paul Cezanne, “Portrait de Guillaumin,” c. 1873, original soft ground. Of much interest to Cezanne scholars is the amusing sketch in the upper left corner which depicts a tiny gallows with a hanged man. It is generally agreed that this vignette alludes to Cezanne’s famous painting, “The Hanged Man’s House,” which was executed a year earlier at Auvers-sur-Oise.

Bottom: Pierre August Renoir, “Baigneuses Debout, A Mi-Jambes, c. 1906, original soft ground.