Why I Collect: Greg Miller

‘Like many of my collecting peers, I turned into a collector without formally planning to become one. My sense that I was collecting art instead of purchasing it came out of conversations with artists, gallerists, and curators. Some of these dialogues turned into friendships and soon led to collecting as a way of participating in the artworld that went far beyond just an accumulation of objects. Over the years, my network kept expanding and, as it did, the opportunity to make meaningful purchases kept presenting itself. Sometimes, the desire to add a work to the collection is so great that you give in, even if it isn’t the most financially sensible thing to do. In fact, I put off buying an apartment for years because I kept using the down payment for new pieces!

‘When I moved to New York in 1993 after law school to work as an investment banker, I wanted to see art made by artists from my generation – the art of the time. Back then, museums didn’t focus on contemporary art and emerging artists the way they do now. I lived Downtown, not far from SoHo, and I would spend my Saturdays walking around galleries and visiting nonprofit spaces such as White Columns. The art market was still small – you could see nearly all the SoHo galleries in one day. A year or so in, I mustered the courage to ask about prices. I was pleasantly surprised to hear that I could afford certain pieces. It’s been a nonstop process ever since. 

‘I collect with my husband Michael Wiener. We’re not “mega-collectors” – we don’t have endless funds at our disposal to buy art. For us, choosing a work for the collection is really that – a choice. When you don’t have infinite means, the funds allocated to one piece can’t go to another. It has really sharpened our understanding of the collection. I began collecting artists who were about the same age as me. One of my earliest purchases was Exfoliation [1994], a photograph by Lyle Ashton Harris. Other artists whose work we have collected in depth since then include Marilyn Minter – whom I met through the White Columns board, of which I am now president – Catherine Opie, Glenn Ligon, Carroll Dunham, and Ghada Amer.

‘We purchased our home as raw space, and the architects Bade Stageberg Cox created an apartment designed for and around art. It now includes a mix of open and closed areas to retain the feel of a living and lived-in space, irrespective of what is on the walls. The current hang includes a few different strands of the collection. There is work exploring painting from a range of perspectives – an early Carroll Dunham on wood from 1984 is paired with one of his bather paintings from just a few years ago. Other painters we are showing at the moment include Amy Sillman and Shara Hughes, whose works combine abstraction and figuration.

‘We also have works up by artists who use text and appropriation to address identity, such as Lorna Simpson and Glenn Ligon. Untitled [1994], a series of five Felix Gonzalez-Torres black and white photographs featuring cloudy skies with birds, is in a central spot. Another work in a key location is a large Rachel Harrison sculpture, which proposes questions of three-dimensionality, painting, color, appropriation, and even photography. Nearby are two minimal Wade Guyton sculptures in metal, while one by Haegue Yang that incorporates a wide range of elements, including industrial fabric and lights, hangs from a circular retail clothing rack. There are also works on paper, including by Danh Vo, Kara Walker, Fred Sandback, and Sam Gilliam. And Catherine Opie’s work is represented by three early pieces [from her Portraits series, 1993-97], as well as photos from her Houses [1995-96], Icehouses [2001], and Surfers [2003] series.

‘My involvement over many years as a member of acquisition committees – including the Whitney Museum’s Painting & Sculpture Committee and Tate’s North American Acquisitions Committee, both of which I co-chair today – has been particularly meaningful. You have a front-row seat for a decision-making process led by curators, who discuss the museum’s collecting priorities and why a particular work merits an institutional purchase at a particular time. Participating in – and listening to – these sorts of conversations continually show me how museums shape our understanding of art, not only because of what they exhibit but also how rigorously they build their collections. Of course, what I have learned through these committees has shaped my development as a collector.

‘Art can really help you slow down and focus, despite the artworld moving at a relentless pace. For collectors, it’s sometimes a challenge to focus on the art object itself instead of what is said about it, whether in the press or by dealers or other collectors. Even in museums you can catch yourself reading collectors’ names on wall labels more closely than you are looking at the art on the walls! I find that I need to prioritize making a space for direct engagement with art. Such experiences, which really can be transformative, mostly happen for me in museums, but also when a great show quite literally stops me in my tracks as I’m racing from one gallery to the next. It is difficult to see through the hype and to avoid looking at art through a market-based lens, but at the end of the day, it’s only the artist and the art – not who is on a label – that makes the cultural difference and will continue to resonate a long time from now.’

Skye Sherwin is an art writer based in Rochester, UK. She contributes regularly to The Guardian and numerous art publications.

Top image, from left to right: detail from Miller and Wiener's living room, with a work by Ghada Amer in the background; Greg Miller in front of a sculpture by Martin Puryear at this year's Venice Biennale; and a detail from Amy Sillman's Regarding Saturna (2005), also installed in the couple's apartment.