Here are Herb and Dorothy Vogel:

Let's be honest: these people do not look like rock stars. 

And yet: in the art world, Herb and Dorothy -- he, a retired postal worker, and she, a librarian -- are rock stars in the extreme. They are rock stars for amassing an incredible collection of Minimalist and Conceptual art (view the collection); they are stars, too, for donating said collection, worth millions of dollars, to the National Gallery of Art...and for refusing compensation. Let me say that again: they refused compensation. This is not like Madonna, or Bono, saying, "no, no, National Gallery, consider this art a gift." Herb and Dorothy are people of modest means. They live in a tiny New York City apartment, filled with their pets: cats, turtles, fish, and whatever art they haven't, at this point, given away. And yet, when the National Gallery finally convinced them to accept payment, did they splurge on a bigger apartment? Buy a fancy sports car? No. They bought more art - art which they plan to donate, eventually, to the National Gallery, so that members of the public can enjoy it for free.

This, apparently, is just how Herb and Dorothy roll.

So we learn in a documentary, aptly titled "Herb and Dorothy," that aired last night on one of my favorite series, Independent Lens (if you missed it, check here for reruns, or check for local screenings - unfortunately, you can't watch the film online, and there doesn't seem to be a DVD). The couple's compulsion to collect art is striking, as is their apparent disinterest in material wealth. But what's most interesting is this: an hour of television featuring two such unlikely (and, let's face it, not very pretty, superficially speaking) characters. Herb and Dorothy do not look the part of art world denizens -- where's the bleached hair, the sleek clothes? No casting director would ever hire them. On television, characters are so often symbols -- of a demographic, a profession; but Herb and Dorothy aren't symbols of art collectors....they're just people who collect art, as compulsively as bees collect pollen. Not pretty-flowers-in-a-vase art, mind you, but challenging art..."weird" art. The kind of art that some people point at and say, derisively, "Pfft! I could have done that." ("But," as my grandfather would have said,"you didn't.")

This plain-looking couple is edgier, it turns out, than most people who bear the trappings of edginess. As artist Chuck Close says in the film, Herb and Dorothy are drawn to the least decorative, most rigorous pieces an artist creates. Just as they do not symbolize art collectors, they do not treat art as symbolic -- of what's "in," or "hot," or "important." They're drawn most of all to artifacts of the artistic process ("souvenirs," as an artist in the film puts it), versus end products that represent an artist's fully realized vision. The reason for this is clear: Herb and Dorothy love artists. They esteem them. They celebrate the process of making and sharing art above all else.

This, of course, is completely antithetical to so much commercial television, which treats reality itself as a commodity to be packaged, marketed and consumed. As "Herb and Dorothy" shows, there is no greater artistic process than the process by which we build our lives.

Check out the Website and watch a Preview

We bought what we liked!

Watching the Chandlers And Their Times was jarring, comforting, educational, enlightening and a cautionary tale. As an Angelino I have an affinity to the Los Angeles Times. In my childhood it was the newspaper that my parents counted on for their daily news. I was weaned on column one and Steve Lopez, reading the Times became part of my mornings somewhere in my sixteenth year.

There were Chandlers in my life, quite a few of them, apparently they were from different branches of the extraordinary family. While immersed in the story of a family whose drama rivals any Shakespearean tragedy, I found myself pointing and saying to my husband, "That's how Robbie got into car racing!" or "I think that's Kristie." he would look at me, shake his head and say, "I don't know who you are talking about." Though less personal to him, we were both drawn into the story.

According to this documentary, The Chandler Family is responsible for the development of Los Angeles from San Pedro to the San Fernando Valley. They took the Los Angeles times from being a tool for real estate development to a Pulitzer Prize winning newspaper.

Although the story of the Chandlers is a good one, The Chandlers And Their Times is magnificent. With heroes and villains, mental illness and bigotry, the storytelling is compelling and though the tragic tales are told mostly in still pictures, I found myself glued to the television, riveted.

 As a friend, classmate and admirer of various Chandlers I could not possibly watch this with an objective eye. I sat wondering what my friends would think of this expose of their very private, incredibly wealthy family. I, like you, felt the odd combination of pride, curiosity and shame for peeking into the family photos of Los Angeles' most prominent family.

I'd never known of Dorothy "Buff" Chandler's difficulty being accepted into the family, though I did know that she'd been successful in uniting Downtown and Westside [read Protestant and Jewish] philanthropists in building the Music Center downtown. I knew before this viewing that her son Otis had been unceremoniously pushed out of his stewardship of the times.

  As a blogger I couldn't help but watch the evolution of my newspaper with a psychic eye. Is this the destiny of the new media? What can we learn? The first years of the LA Times were lawless, profitable and existed only to feed other businesses ventures that were far more profitable. First standards were set, then huge journalistic milestones were hit, and in the blink of an eye there was fiscal ruin, and a loss of ownership.

What will we be left with? My city has Chandlers with their legacies and their fortunes, but we no longer have Their Times. I can't help but think that it's a paper without a soul, now that they have lost the family behind it.

Video Clips
Otis Chandler and His Family

A recorded phone conversation reveals former President Nixon's plan to investigate the Chandlers.

Unionists explode dynamite at the Times Headquarters during Harrison Gray Otis' reign as publisher.

Web Site 

Inventing LA: The Chandlers and Their Times

Earlier this week, I promised to spill the details of my recent camping ordeal trip. That post is now up over at 50-Something Moms Blog and Los Angeles Moms Blog. (If you do mosey over to the read post, you must click on the photo taken by my niece... .)

photo by Russell Virgilio 

The post is a pretty accurate description of our weekend in the mountains -- but it misses a key component: That aside from all that pesky nature, Lassen Volcanic National Park is a really cool place to visit... especially if you are a professional geologist, like my husband.

Just note the park's name: It's an active volcano, folks... the only one in the lower 48 states (aside from Mt. St. Helens) to have erupted in the last century.It was also one of the first areas to be designated in the legislation that created the National Park Service back in 1916 - while the volcano was still smoldering.

Scientists don't expect the mountain to erupt again any time soon, but the USGS keeps a close eye on it, just in case. There is still plenty of volcanic activity to observe among the park's hydrothermal areas, including one with the poetic name of Bumpass Hell (pronounced "bumpus" and named for a 19th century mountain guide who lost his leg after falling into the hot mud).

This particular volcano is the southernmost member of the Cascades range, which we became quite familiar with on our 2005 trek through the Pacific Northwest (including visits to Mt. St. Helens, Crater Lake, and a pass by Mt. Shasta).

Did I mention that this place was like heaven to my husband?

Read the full post here.