Alex Rosenberg calls it the way he sees it. And he’s seen a lot. He divides his time between the upper east side of Manhattan and a waterfront art-filled Water Mill home that he shares with his devoted wife of 44 years, Carole. That luggage by the driveway is a sculpture. He talks about his friend Salvador Dali. His only “Sandy” Calder — another pal — is a rug in the TV room.
He regrets not buying more of his famous friends work. But other than that he’s a man of few regrets. Or apologies. As we sit overlooking Mecox Bay he takes calls, checks emails, and is genuinely concerned that I don’t require coffee or even a water. If it’s his water, maybe we should all be drinking it. Here is 102 years of wisdom.
JLP: How has the art world changed in the 80-plus years you’ve been involved in it?
AR: Up until World War II, art in the United States was basically the property of the rich. Commercialization existed, but it wasn’t known to the middle class. The middle class collected art merely for decoration with perhaps the exception of ancestral paintings. They were into music, books, but fine art belonged to the elite.
After World War II the American artists returned and recaptured the art market. European artists returned to Europe. And out of that came “Pop Art.” And so for the first time the middle class was interested. We used to joke and say they “followed the advice of their dentist.” They had no one else to go to. Gradually, over the years, art became commercialized. But the upper class was always commercializing art. The sales were from one rich person to another rich person.
Now we have an art market that is basically going downhill. Because the middle class is gradually losing its wealth and is selling off what it owns. At the upper level where we have artists like Basquiat, de Kooning, the sales again are being made by the very wealthy. We are shocked when we hear how much people are paying to acquire art. What had originally been a cultural tool is now an economic tool.
JLP: So money ruined everything?
AR: If you put it that way, then yes.
JLP: What about living versus deceased artists? Can success spoil them?
AR: Not necessarily.
JLP: Warhol opened a factory.
AR: Well, there are two categories. There’s the large category of people who have a reputation and when they die their reputation dies with them. And then there are those who outlive that like Warhol. Also Calder and Basquiat, de Kooning, there’s a number of them. But it’s so hard to forecast today which of the acceptable artists, the ones we consider important, will survive.
JLP: What do you collect?
AR: I’m a very bad example because I only took art from the people I worked with or bought art from. I was too close to them. People always ask “Why don’t you have a major piece of work from Alexander Calder?” I was so friendly with him. I never thought he would die! I never thought any of these people would die.
JLP: Well, that’s easy for you at 102 because you’ve outlived them all.
AR: (Laughs) Nevertheless I was so surprised one day when Calder’s daughter called and said Sandy couldn’t have lunch with us because he had died. How was that possible?
JLP: But they don’t die if the art lives on.
AR: Ah, only some cases. I can name an endless number of important artists who have very little reputation today.
JLP: Have you ever been fooled by a fake?
AR: I would say very often. It’s impossible to avoid it. I’m supposedly an expert on Dali. The fake Dalis that have been coming onto the market are so well done that it’s becoming increasingly difficult for me to be certain.
When I first started, and the preponderance of the work was real and fakes were coming onto the market it was relatively easy. Statistically it was in my favor. As time has gone on you must remember the number of correct Dalis is a finite thing. The number of fakes continues to grow until we’re going to reach a day shortly that almost every piece we see on the market is fake. Because the real ones have already been absorbed into collections. And qualitatively the fakes are fantastically well done.
JLP: What was the greatest misconception about Dali?
AR: That he was a clown. He was a brilliant man, beyond belief. He made a bad decision. But maybe it was right at the time he lived. He felt PR was more important than his ability.
JLP: He was way ahead of his time.
AR: Yes. But he made it up. Like the famous story about breaking the window at Bonwit Teller. He told me it’s a fake, the whole story.
The owner of the store asked Dali to do a window. At that time the windows were being done by a 16- or 17-year-old boy. So the kid had done a window. And Dali came in and redid the window. The kid comes back and says “Who changed my window?” And he changes the window back. Dali comes out of the St. Regis across the street and sees the window has been changed. And he’s angry. So he goes in there to fix the window again and the kid comes in. And they get into a tussle. And a bathtub breaks the window.
That’s not a story. So he tells it that he walks down the street, sees that his window has been changed. so he threw a brick through the window. Now he’s got a story.
JLP: But you contend that a story like that cut against his talent and his credibility.
AR: It created a situation that for years hurt his reputation. The academics of his period saw him as a clown. Not as an important artist. So in the universities they didn’t teach who Dali was. He could put on the most ridiculous acts.
JLP: And you were his wingman.
AR: We went to Maxim’s one day for lunch and he says he wants his table. He never made a reservation so there are people sitting at what he called his table. So they give us the equivalent table but on the other side of the room. And Dali is mumbling and gets in an argument with the waiter and we leave. And I realized he didn’t want lunch he wanted to make a scene at Maxim’s. I wasn’t his only sidekick but I was his favorite one for about five years.
JLP: What’s the secret to long life?
AR: I guess there are several. One, the right genes. And two, the right wife. I can say sincerely I wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t for my wife Carole’s efforts. When I had pneumonia at 98 the doctors gave me up. She stormed into that hospital told the doctors “This man works every day. You’ve got to make him well!”
JLP: Did you smoke? Drink?
AR: I smoked till I was about 60 or 65. One day when I had three cigarettes lit at the same time I realized if I didn’t stop I was going to get cancer. So I was able to cut it off. I always ate relatively well. I played tennis very often until I was 65 and my hips gave out.
JLP: What is it about the eastern end of Long Island that has attracted so many artists over the years?
AR: Two major things. When the Morans came here, Thomas Moran noticed that the light was different. The color of the sky was different than what he was accustomed to in New York. So that caused a number of artists to come out here.
The other thing was the railroad coming out here. The rich came out and certain art schools opened out here. William Merritt Chase opened a school in Southampton. Maxfield Parrish came out here. Simultaneously the impoverished artists in New York could afford land out here. It was selling for nothing. And there were barns and homes that farmers had given up.
Perfect example is Jackson Pollock who paid $1500 for a house with 20 acres. Also European artists spent summers out here. Guild Hall did an excellent show about it a few years ago that included the work of all these foreign artists. Word got around that you could live out here for cheap.
JLP: Those were the days.
AR: I would say 1960 was the high watermark. Almost every important artist you can think of came out here.
JLP: Will there always be art?
AR: Yes. It’s a basic form of expression. The form will change. And unfortunately art has become fashionable. Everything now has been sped up. So that in my lifetime I have seen so many famous artists forgotten. But the production of art will always be there because the people who produce it, whether they are influence by money or not, have something to say.
JLP: Why do you keep working? You don’t have to.
AR: I like it! One, I’m able to work because I’m in good shape and two, I’m in good shape because I work. You have your choice. (Laughs)
JLP: Did you have any idea you were going to last this long?
AR: No, I never thought about it. And then one day I woke up and said “I’m not dead.”