As the Dallas Art Fair returns this weekend, the city’s ever-evolving arts ecosystem finds itself once again in the national spotlight—thanks in no small part to the artists, patrons, and institutions that have shaped its distinct character. Among them, Marguerite Hoffman stands out as a cultural lodestar.
With her late husband, National Lampoon cofounder Robert Hoffman, she assembled a formidable collection featuring titans like Cy Twombly and Jasper Johns alongside contemporary luminaries such as Dana Schutz and Cecily Brown—many housed between her serene home and the robust, museum-grade gallery built in the back. But the patron's trove will someday be lifted from the walls of her private residence: With fellow collectors Cindy and Howard Rachofsky and Deedie Rose, she has pledged over 900 works to the Dallas Museum of Art, a bequest that will significantly expand the museum’s postwar and contemporary holdings. In 2013, she also donated $17 million to help strengthen the DMA’s early European art department, establishing the Marguerite and Robert Hoffman Fund. This from the collector who, in her 30s, set up a long-term payment plan to acquire her first piece—a painting by Richard Shaffer.
Ahead of the Dallas Art Fair, Hoffman joined CULTURED in a reflection on her early love of museum and church trips, how collecting prayer books helped her understand the continuum of life, and why she’s committed to championing female artists who take up space—literally and metaphorically.
What makes the Dallas art scene unique?
This has been commented on quite a bit, but I still think it stands the test of time—in Dallas there exists a spirit of profound collaboration between the collectors themselves as well as the arts institutions. This collective spirit of wanting to push forward towards a larger civic goal undergirds a lot of the thinking for my generation of collectors. It's not a siloed activity here. Collecting seems to have a mission component to it. My understanding from folks in different parts of the world is that this model, which is ingrained in our DNA, is unique. We will ultimately know how successful we have been when the next generation of collectors and museum professionals take these ideas about collaboration married to civic engagement and make them their own. There are many great collectors in Dallas now, and I have no doubt that that number will only continue to grow. It will be exciting to see these new leaders take the helm and create their own kind of magic.
What was your biggest influence in fostering your passion for art?
Two things came together to lead me down the art appreciation path. Many of my childhood summers were spent in Washington, DC visiting my grandparents. Early on, I found the National Gallery of Art and spent many happy hours trying to understand the totality of that collection. One of the seeds that got planted was that our national museum came into existence and flourished because people donated entire collections and those became the backbone of the huge offerings that we enjoy now. The idea that something that was as private and privileged as collecting art could ultimately morph into the opportunity [for] access for the many—I liked that transfer of treasure as it hits all my buttons. Enjoy now and then donate for the benefit of others.
The second rock to hit the pond occurred during the year I backpacked through Europe. Because I didn't have two nickels to run together, I spent a lot of time in churches and museums, which were free. Churches especially provided sanctuary; they were warm when it was cold and cool when it was hot. Oftentimes, you heard an organist practicing, which was the cherry on top of that experience. My time in these institutions provided the perfect opportunity to train my eye on the various art styles and forms that constituted the then-Western canon of art. During that period of exploration, I decided to get an advanced degree in art history, and the rest is history!
How do you hope to impact the Dallas art scene and the Dallas Museum of Art?
With two other couples in Dallas, the Rachofskys and the Roses, my late husband and I decided to leave our contemporary art collection to the DMA. I am hopeful that these collections, when they land at the museum, will provide a multi-skeined tapestry for understanding art post-WWII. It will give me (and I hope others too) great pleasure to know that the works I was privileged to live with and learn from will now be available to the wider public. And this vision is tied intimately to support of the museum and its future. The bequest impact will not be seen by me, but I like the idea that this action is part of my legacy. I believe that good art not only offers visual stimulation but permission to ask many cultural, philosophical, and even political questions. Curators are uniquely outfitted to pull those questions to the forefront, and many excellent exhibitions have been spawned by those questions.
Which work in your home provokes the most conversation?
The art that really seems to engage people at a deep level are the medieval illuminated books of hours or prayer books. I remember the feeling of complete awe and surrender when I was first allowed to hold one and turn the pages that are full of incredibly beautiful script and images. It is such a rare occurence to feel connected to individuals that lived some 600 years ago, so to hold the same prayer book that brought solace or enchantment to its original owner helps me to understand the continuum of life and our contributions to it. I have observed that even the most jaundiced contemporary collectors succumb to the power of these handheld treasures.
Which artist are you currently most excited about, and why?
When Robert, my late husband, and I collected during our time together we were drawn to some of the titans of the 20th century who had already been on many folks' radars, primarily paintings, and most of these significant works were created by white males. I love those masterworks, but as I started collecting on my own, I felt like the collection should open up to other voices and media. It is no surprise that women were underrepresented in the collection, and I sought to organically seek ways to expand with this gap in mind. I am particularly interested in women who work on a large scale, out of the realm of the intimate and into the realm of taking up real space—physically and emotionally. With that awareness, I found myself drawn to the works of Dana Schutz, Laura Owens, Julie Mehretu, and Cecily Brown, among others. These women have taken up the challenge of scale and each found a way to command a large canvas with their unique style and vocabulary. They have produced some of the most playful, serious, daring, complicated, delicious art of the last two decades, and my bet and hope is that they will continue to do so for some time to come.
What factors do you consider when making an acquisition?
I believe that the art that fits well in the collection somehow finds me rather than the other way around. There are some wonderfully intuitive curators and dealers who seem to understand the germ(s) of the collection and often show me work that I immediately know must be welcomed into the fold. Other times, I am more focused on acquiring a special work, and this is a different type of activity of actually sourcing pieces. One example that comes to mind is my foray into collecting antiquities. I don't intend to become a serious antiquities collector, but I did want two particular pieces: a Bactrian princess and a Cycladic figure both dating circa 3500 to 2500 BC. After a circuitous process of finding a trustworthy expert who could help me, I was ultimately rewarded by the privilege of acquiring examples of these art types. Fundamentally, I just ask myself the question of, What can I learn from this work that I am considering? If the answer seems compelling and the pocket book is sufficient, then I will generally leap into almost any art abyss.
How has the collection changed as your home and space have changed?
Well, this is an easy one—the collection has changed dramatically since we built a small gallery that sits to the rear of my home. Data tells me that since the gallery space became available my appetite has grown to fill new walls and floors. Not only has the collection gotten larger in terms of sheer numbers, but the works themselves have grown in size. I often buy something without knowing whether I can even get the piece installed in my space. And while that seems crazy, some part of my brain must be thinking long-term about how the large installation or painting will ultimately look in the museum.
