Inside My Collection: Michael Sherman

“I love when you support an artist because you love their work: You’re able to tell somebody about it and give them background and story—it makes other people gravitate toward that work,” Sherman told Artsy.

Part of his collecting story intertwines with his longtime friend, the chef-restaurateur Vinny Dotolo. The pair founded Spaghetti Western, a shared collection created to champion artists they love and make the work public. Its first major outing, “Where the Real Lies,” appeared at the Ogunquit Museum of American Art in Maine earlier this year, featuring work by Sasha Gordon, Louis Fratino, and Dominique Fung.

Sherman’s collecting is also deeply connected to institutions. After a galvanizing encounter with Kerry James Marshall’s 2017 MOCA show, Sherman funded $25,000 in buses for students. “I really think that young people should see this show,” Sherman told Artsy. “It was life-changing for me. It literally introduced me into the museum world.” He was also a member of the Hammer Museum’s board and a trustee of the Baltimore Museum of Art (BMA). “I feel like everybody should be in a museum, and every young person should be able to walk into a museum and see an example of themselves and know that anything is possible,” Sherman said.

This summer, we caught up with Sherman to discuss his collection, his relationship with artists, and why he believes it’s his responsibility as a collector to share his art with the public.

Maxwell Rabb: Let’s start at the beginning of your collecting journey. What was the first piece of art you acquired?

Michael Sherman: In 2006, Banksy had a show in Los Angeles. There was this giant pink elephant, and it was one of the coolest things I’d ever seen.

I was already into Banksy, and I didn’t have much money to collect, so I was buying street art prints. When I went to the show, I ended up getting a Banksy and was super stoked.

Then, I ended up meeting Noah Davis through Chris and Beth Gibbs, who owned this store called Union. They had this [Davis] piece up, and I thought, “That’s amazing.” They sent me over to the Underground Museum [a now-defunct art gallery co-founded by Davis]. I ended up getting this Davis piece called Mary Jane. It was the first time I bought a painting.

M.R.: Where did your collecting journey go from there?

M.S.: Somebody told me, “You should go to Art Basel Miami Beach.” So, I flew down there, and I knew nothing.

I walked around this fair, thinking that you could just buy stuff. I had no idea how art fairs worked, so I’d say to galleries, “Oh, this is cool. Can I buy it?” and they’d say, “Who are you?” I’d say, “I’m trying to find stuff for my walls.” They’d say, “There’s a list.” I said, “Can I get on the list?…. Put me at the bottom.”

I got back to L.A., and I met Wes Lang through a friend of mine. I went to his studio, fell in love with his work, and bought a bunch of it.

Then, Lang said, “You should meet my friend Eddie Martinez.” When I met Eddie, he said, “You should meet my girlfriend, Sam Moyer,” and I met Sam….That was my entrance to art.

M.R.: From there, how would you describe your approach as you began the collection?

M.S.: I started my collection organically. I’d meet an artist and be like, “I really like your work. I’d like to buy one for my house.” Then, I went to the LAXART fair with Vinny in 2013, and that was the first time I went with somebody to see art.

We bought a work by Nathaniel Mellors. I then started buying from galleries, works by Sarah Crowner and Garth Weiser. By 2015, I had to get a storage unit. That was the moment I realized I might be an art collector.

M.R.: You’ve built a career as a film producer and worked on Native Son, Rashid Johnson’s first feature film. How did you first meet Rashid, and how did your involvement with Native Son come together from that first conversation to the finished film?

M.S.: My business partner got a call that Rashid Johnson wanted to make a movie. So, we had breakfast and got on well. One of my favorite stories is I’m sitting with Rashid at this diner by his house, and I asked, “Who’s going to write it?” He tells me [playwright and screenwriter] Suzan-Lori Parks. I thought, “Whoa! This guy is serious.”

That’s when I knew Rashid really was a true media savant. His mixed-media works are among my favorites, and he’s a natural storyteller. We went to his show at David Kordansky. It was such a beautiful show, and we left the next day to film Native Son.

M.R.: You have the titular Native Son piece in your home. Can you say how the work came about and what it means to you?

M.S.: We started shooting Native Son, and I had been talking to an artist about making a piece for this big, giant wall in our house. Rashid came over, and he was like, “Give me that wall!”

He made me the 7-by-10-foot mammoth brass piece that literally took eight guys to install. They had to reinforce my wall.

It’s a very personal piece. The book Native Son is in it. He was kind enough to be thoughtful and make a piece like that for my house.

M.R.: Are there other works in your L.A. home that you’re excited about right now?

M.S.: American artist Luis Flores. Luis and I have become really good friends. I’ve supported his practice, and I helped give a work of his to the Hammer Museum. I have this piece of him fighting himself. I normally put it on our guest bed because it makes me laugh. When people walk in, it looks like they’re fighting on the bed. My wife berates me about it.

Another special piece is by Doreen Garner, from her solo show at JTT (one of my favorite galleries, Rest in Peace). It’s a gramophone with silicone and hair. I put the headphones on and started listening to it. It was the recording of Sandra Bland [a Black woman who was murdered in custody days after being arrested at a traffic stop], called From the Larynx, Sandra. I walked out of there and I couldn’t stop crying.

I remember thinking to myself, “This can’t not go somewhere.” I called her back and told her, “If you don’t place it in a museum, I’ll buy it and gift it to a museum.” That’s the power of art. A piece like that should never be left behind.

M.R.: Tell us about the works in your daughter’s room.

M.S.: My daughter’s room has works by Grace Weaver, Katherine Bradford, Kylie Manning, mosie romney, Thornton Dial, Shinique Smith, and Hangama Amiri. It’s a lot of women for her to look up to and respect. It’s this beautifully textured, colorful room to get lost in as a young lady. She’s told me to take a couple down. I won’t name names, but we moved a couple out.

M.R.: Is there a work that you were thrilled to walk away with?

M.S.: Robert Colescott’s The Philosopher at the Bathers’ Pool from 1984. I had been trying for two years at auction and kept losing because it would go over my number.

M.R.: Has your experience in film shaped how you look at and collect art?

M.S.: Making movies influenced my art collecting. I had worked for [music producer] Babyface for a few years, and I became obsessed with American Idol. I sat in the second row and watched Kelly Clarkson win.

American Idol showed you that a great singer is a great singer—it doesn’t matter who they are, what they look like…people respond to greatness. When I started collecting art, I curated my collection to support first-time filmmakers and underrepresented voices. I still make documentaries even if I can’t make money, because I have to help people get their stories out.

M.R.: Tell me about you and Vinny Dotolo. How did you start collecting together?

M.S.: Vinny is one of my favorite people on earth, and he comes from the same place I do—he’s a true patron of the arts.

One day, I was offered a Christine Forrer piece I couldn’t afford. On the phone, I said it would be cool to set up a group where everyone puts up, and we collect out of love, share the works, and see them travel. Vinny said, “I’ll do that with you.”

Because Vinny is a restaurateur and he’s Italian, and because Westerns are my favorite, I said we should call it Spaghetti Western, and that’s how it stuck.

Honestly, we’re crazy and got a little obsessed. The pandemic really sped us up. At one point, I made a list and said, “Holy shit, dude, we’ve got to chill—we have 114 artists in our collection.” It’s a collection with so many beautiful people and stories in it, and there’s no one I’d rather do it with than Vinny. Our wives make fun of us and call us “art bros.”