In the vibrant tapestry of Dallas's art scene, the Warehouse emerges as a bold testament to the power of collaboration. The exhibition space was co-founded in 2012 by mega-collectors Howard Rachofsky and Vernon Faulconer; the two showed their ambitious collections there until Faulconer's death in 2015. Last fall, the 18,000-square-foot venue took on a new life as home to another collaboration, this time between Rachofsky and entrepreneur-philanthropist Thomas Hartland-Mackie.
The two friends are four decades apart and have different, but complementary, tastes. Rachofsky, who began collecting in the 1970s, is known for his deeply considered holdings ranging from American minimalism to Italian and Japanese postwar art. Hartland-Mackie, who has been collecting for more than a decade, has cultivated passion for bold, ambitious contemporary voices. They share a penchant for acquiring art that is too large and complex to display in the living room. By inviting guest curators and opening its doors to students, art professionals, and the public alike, the Warehouse endeavors to showcase these works to a broader audience and cultivate a deeper, more personal engagement with art.
In conversation with CULTURED, Rachofsky and Hartland-Mackie reflect on their journey of friendship and mentorship, mistakes they made along the way, and their big ambitions for the Dallas art scene.
CULTURED: How long have you known one another and how did you meet?
Howard Rachofsky: We've known each other for well over a decade. Thomas and his family used to live in Dallas before they moved to Costa Rica. It's sort of by osmosis to find someone interested in talking about contemporary art—who's actually interested in it—as it tends to be a bit of a nugget in a field. So when you find someone, there's an immediate relationship.
Thomas is one of those rare breeds who's very insightful and can weed through a lot of material and data, discern a very logical and specific point of view, and defend it. Not everything in the world is black and white, and I think our relationship developed because we both saw nuances in visual culture and everything from business to politics to social science.
Being in the same town for a period of time, there was the natural affinity where you would get together and go to their house—Thomas is in the process of building a family, so we would go over on Sunday evenings and play cards and gossip and do what friends do. We had a certain amount of art interaction that led to the beginning of The Warehouse.
Thomas Hartland-Mackie: Our paths just continue to overlap in different ways, and as Howard said, we built this strong friendship, and art was part of that. First and foremost, we're friends, almost family. Then, we both share a passion for art and collecting. We've had a lot of fun, good meals, and travels along the way.
CULTURED: What first drew you to collecting, and how has the practice changed since you began?
Rachofsky: I was introduced to an art dealer when I first moved back to Dallas in the early ’70s. And by circumstance, I began to catch the bug. Art represented an interesting curiosity: It was intellectual, it was visual, it was physical, tactile. I worked under this older gentleman's influence for a few years, bought a few random works, either prints that were very inexpensive, or sort of kitschy works that were very neon and glowed in the dark.
As time passes, you're influenced by different people along the way. I was introduced to this lady in New York––she was one of these very high-powered, successful contemporary art dealers and I was fresh meat. For a period of time, I essentially collected what that gallery had to sell. So, for the first couple decades there was no cohesion to the development of the collection. It was more about things that visually and intellectually made sense to me.
The real first critical change in the way I collected is when I finished my house. Doing the house really catalyzed the thought process, and I was introduced to Allan Schwartzman. I was his first advisory client, if you will, and we began a relationship in early 1997 and have worked together ever since—attempting to evolve a collection that I could relate to, but wasn't just the so-called random walk or buying art with your ears or buying to impress anyone. Allan was really a great road map in that. So there was a certain evolution of our collection that was trying to build outside of the mainstream.
Hartland-Mackie: I actually didn't even know this, but I had a very similar start. I started collecting some prints and some neon things. Had I known Howard a little bit earlier, maybe I would have made a few different earlier choices. I think there's so much wisdom that exists generally out there in the world. I'm still young but I'm starting to lean into that as well with others who I can help give some of my experience to. In my view, time is people's most valuable resource, and what I've experienced in Dallas and certainly from Howard over the years is a real generosity of giving that time and sharing those stories.
CULTURED: Thomas, what have you learned from Howard’s collecting styles?
Hartland-Mackie: I've had the great fortune of having a few mentors over my life. I'm a huge believer that you learn in two ways: through making your own mistakes, or through the experiences and mistakes of others. Howard has been an amazing guide for me in collecting art, helping with both the fun and practical sides. My interest in contemporary art really took off at Cindy and Howard's Two x Two [an annual art auction in Dallas to raise money for the Dallas Museum of Art and AIDS research].
As we became friends, he showed me how to connect with artists, dealers, advisors, and especially museums. I loved serving on the Dallas Museum of Art board with Howard for a few years—it taught me how to support museums and work with curators and other collectors. However, more than these everyday lessons, Howard's curiosity and boldness in collecting stand out the most. He's always exploring, thinking, and expanding what he collects, which inspires me in my own collecting and life.
CULTURED: What key artists or works marked turning points in your approaches to collecting?
Rachofsky: I think in the early 2000s we had settled into developing the Minimal part of the collection including moving out of the U.S. and ultimately to Japanese and Italian postwar artists, but we also found that our keen interest in works about identity had not been as fully explored. The pivotal artwork that jump-started that exploration was our acquisition of Félix González-Torres's Perfect Lovers, I believe in 2000. This work touched the emotional nerve but also visually enhanced the minimal aesthetic mandate in an atypical way. Henceforth, conceptual and identity-based works allowed our collection to really become more personal and idiosyncratic.
Hartland-Mackie: In 2016, we bought a big, iconic piece by Anicka Yi called When Species Meet Part 1 (Shine or Go Crazy)—a “fur cage” artwork. That moment changed our collection. It was the first time we started focusing on collecting key artists who capture what’s happening today, especially how technology is shaping our lives. Now we own several major works by Anicka.
Even more importantly, it was our first piece that was tough to imagine living with at home or displaying in an office because of its size and materials. It’s not practical at all, but it felt too significant to pass up, even without a clear spot for it. Looking back, that choice to go for bold, challenging works was a turning point. Since then, we’ve added more big, tricky pieces to the collection, and partnering with the Warehouse Dallas Art Foundation gives us a way to show them to the world.
CULTURED: How does mentorship shape the creation of 21st-century institutions? In your experience, what makes mentorship truly effective, and what’s the most valuable lesson you’ve learned—either from those who guided you or from mentoring the next generation?
Rachofsky: The Warehouse is just the beginning. Everything that's happened here before has really just been laying the groundwork for a place that can really add value, not just a self-indulgent exhibition space where you show off a personal collection. It's a facility that becomes a laboratory for permitting mentorship. We're interviewing several younger curators—around the country, primarily, but we will go global—to give them opportunities to explore our collections. If someone walks in the door, they're gonna walk away knowing a little bit more than they did when they came in. In a funny way, it really was the mantra around Two x Two, which was an event that Cindy [Rachofsky, Howard's wife] and I had the privilege of hosting for over two decades. It opened up the visual arts—it was not as intimidating as going into a gallery [or] a museum if you knew nothing about it or had no real experience.
CULTURED: What makes the Dallas art scene unique?
Hartland-Mackie: It's a very collaborative art scene and it's not something that I've experienced in other cities. The Warehouse is an example of that, [and] Howard has been collaborating with the museum and other local collectors throughout the history of the Warehouse. Dallas is pretty unique in the fact that people choose to stay and then really reinvest in the city and in the institutions. I think that's really beautiful.
CULTURED: What’s next for Dallas’s art scene? Are there any changes that you’d like to see made?
Rachofsky: The city is ripe for evolution. What we don't have is a big and strong gallery scene. We have a very regional gallery scene—full of very earnest, very thoughtful, and wonderful people—but again, it's not like LA or New York or London or Paris, where you've got a much more cosmopolitan gallery scene, if you will.
While we have art history programs in the various colleges in the community, we don't have strong enough programming where artists can actually train here. We don't have an art institute like the School of the Art Institute of Chicago or the equivalent of ArtCenter College of Design in Pasadena. The practical places where artists can develop their careers—whether they choose to stay or leave—are still lacking. It's still relatively conservative—and the Warehouse can become one of a dozen venues here where people can talk about art, experience art, share art, do programming around art. You're fertilizing the landscape in a way that you hope will flourish, and that's really where we can go.
