A Simonson Collector Who Gave it All Back
In late 2022 I got an e-mail from Armand Buxton*, one of my most loyal collectors, a man who has literally hundreds of Simonson artworks.
Armand had been collecting Simonson art for almost 30 years, but he was now nearing 80, and planning to move from his St. Louis apartment to a smaller place in a warmer climate, and he had a problem: what to do with his collection?
As much as he loved all the art he’d amassed over the years, Armand knew it was time to let go of most of it. It was just too much to move, and too much to continue to care for. When thinking of people who could help him with this, he thought of me. He e-mailed me with a proposition.
Armand proposed that, minus a very few works he treasured most, he would return my art to me, for me to do with as I wished. His reasoning was that although he’d purchased all the Simonson artworks he owned, he preferred to think of it as renting, and now it was time to return it to its creator. This also seemed to him a perfect solution to the problem of what to do with the art now that he was downsizing.
I was a little overwhelmed by his offer. This was a huge amount of art being offered to me as, basically, a gift. But as I continued talking to Armand about the details, I realized yes, he was serious.
A plan began to take shape: I would fly to St. Louis, where I would help Armand catalogue, organize and package the art for transport. Then, in a rented vehicle, I would drive the art myself from St. Louis, Missouri to Lincoln, Nebraska.
Yes, it would be a big job, and I was a little nervous about it because I’d never met Armand in person and now I was going to be his overnight guest, plus I hadn’t driven cross-country in the U.S. in about 40 years, and on top of that I’d never even been to St. Louis. But hey, it would be an adventure!—and, not least of all, I would be reunited with some of my favorite and best works from the past 40 years!
Fast-forward a few months and I’ve just flown from Puerto Vallarta to St. Louis. It’s November and it’s cold. Because of flight delays, I’ve arrived much later than expected—it’s now after midnight. I’m waiting outside the airport at the Car Rental Shuttle stop for the Avis bus with some other shivering people. We’re all a little worried that it’s too late and no shuttle will come. But then, after a long wait, we see an Avis shuttle approaching.
We’re all relieved and ready to jump on. As the doors open, the woman driver leans out and announces, “I just wanna let you all know there are NO CARS.” Immediately a tall older businessman goes into rant mode and basically becomes an asshole yelling, “My car is reserved! I paid for it and you’re telling me it’s not there?? What kind of incompetent—“ etc., etc. His behavior is so obnoxious, in fact, that it causes the rest of us to calm down and become more patient and understanding.
So, although the driver reiterates that there are NO CARS, we all opt to take the shuttle back to the Avis office anyway because where else are we going to go, what else are we going to do, at the airport after midnight in a strange city? And who knows, maybe there will be cars after all?!
We all get on the shuttle and head for the Avis rental office. The guy who was ranting has calmed down quite a bit by now, maybe because the rest of us are staying calm. In fact, by now we’re talking to each other and starting to bond. You know, like being in a stressful situation and needing support from each other will make you do.
We arrive at the Avis office and there are two young women at the desk and yes, there are NO CARS. They do their best to explain the facts to us, and we all calm down even more as we begin to understand they are as much victims of the situation as we are. By now the older man has become a regular person again and as we all begin to accept the fact that we are not getting cars tonight and other plans must be made, and we even start helping each other come up with places to spend the night. Despite all the inconvenience, I was loving the way we were all bonding and supporting each other.
I was able to call Armand and very apologetically ask him if he could come pick me up at the airport, and he says sure, I’ll be there in a few minutes.
In the car, Armand seems like a nice guy, easy to talk to, and I find myself relaxing. This will be fine. And after a good night’s sleep it’ll be much easier to deal with the rental car thing.
The next morning Armand gives me a tour of his rather large apartment. He’s been collecting not only Simonsons, but a lot of other art, and it’s almost like a museum. (Although if truth be told, a museum that could use a dedicated curator.)
But I’m good at organizing things. So Armand and I plunge in and begin separating the Simonsons from everything else. Basically, each time he points out a pile of artworks, I go through the pile at lightning speed, since I am probably the best person on the planet to go through thousands of artworks and pick out the Simonsons.
As I’m going through the art I have to keep refocusing on the task at hand because every minute or two I come across a treasure I thought I’d never see again. Oh my god! It’s At the Falls! Oh my god, it’s Waahila! Oh my god, it’s a work I barely even remember doing, but it’s great!
After about an hour Armand concludes that we’ve got all the Simonsons—or at least all that are currently findable. And I begin organizing and packing the art.
I manage to sort and pack hundreds of works of art so efficiently and professionally I even impress myself (hey, I’ve been doing this kind of thing for over 40 years). In a very short time, I have everything packed in boxes or rolled up in tubes and ready to go.
By now it’s about 130 pm and it’s time to go get the rental car. Armand gives me a ride to the airport and when we arrive at the Avis rental office, my heart sinks. The line extends outside the building.
I resign myself and trudge up to the office and get in line. After waiting for awhile and chatting with the people waiting in line with me, it occurs to me that I am an Avis Preferred customer, and I wonder if that means anything in this situation. I contemplate leaving my place in line to go up to the desk and see if I can find a way to get special treatment, but I don’t want to look like an asshole. So I ask the people around me, “Hey, is anybody here Avis Preferred?” They all shake their heads and say no, and then the guy behind me says, “Y’know, there’s an Avis Preferred office just around the corner. You don’t have to stand in this line.” He’s right: I walk outside and around the corner, there’s the Avis Preferred office—and there’s no line.
At the Avis Preferred office, I get taken care of quickly and efficiently and the next thing you know, I’m in my Jeep SUV and driving off the lot! (On my way out of the office, the guy who’d been standing behind me in line walks in. He looks at me, holds up his phone and says, “I signed up online!”)
Then it was back to the apartment where Armand and I loaded up all the art I had packed, and then, it was time to go. I thanked him for everything and gave him a hug and climbed into the SUV—which turned out to be the perfect size, by the way—and headed off to Nebraska with my load of treasures
I was a little nervous because I didn’t know St. Louis at all and I had to drive from there to Kansas City where I would visit my sister and her family, and then to Lincoln, Nebraska—all on roads I had no familiarity with. I was more nervous than you probably would be because I had no confidence that Google maps could help me. Let me tell you why.
When I moved to Mexico in 2014, I got a new phone number with Telcel, a Mexican company. Like most phone companies, they had a confusing set of phone plans, made even more confusing by being in Spanish. I couldn’t figure out how to access the Internet with my phone. In Mexico it was not a big deal to me, so I just dealt with it. But whenever I was in the U.S., it meant I had no Internet access when I was driving, so no Google maps. This was a big pain but I never really did anything about it.
But as I become more and more Mexican (9 years here now), dark secrets have begun to reveal themselves to me. Like Telcel’s phone plans. I finally deciphered just enough of their mysterious codes to learn how to buy Internet access. Amazing! I now have mobile internet access, not just in Mexico but in the U.S. too! This changes everything.
So I connected my Android phone to the Jeep SUV as I was leaving Armand’s place, and suddenly the big screen to the right of the steering wheel filled up with a bright, easy-to-read map of where I was and where I needed to go. I know, you’ve probably been using Google maps this way for years, but for me this was quite a thrill. I ended up having a total blast driving from St. Louis to Kansas City to Lincoln, with Google maps holding my hand and keeping me safe every mile of the way!
Two days later, finally arriving in Lincoln with my art-laden SUV, I felt like I’d accomplished quite a bit. It took me a couple of days to realize that the trip was the easy part. Cataloguing every artwork and reintegrating them into my database and physical storage was a big job and took over a week, and that was with my assistant Lisa helping me. But it’s done now, and I have a whole raft of mostly previously unseen works to share with my collectors.
I have to thank Armand again for his generosity and for his appreciation of my art! It’s been a thrill to have so many of my early works back, and an even greater thrill to be able to share them with my current collectors. Click on the button below to visit a gallery on my website containing many of the original works from Armand’s collection which he returned to me.
*not his real name
That AI representation with Armand and his collection with the non blurry Simonsons👍😉would make a great original oil painting! Just a thought!
What an amazing story. And what a wonderful thing to do with art. wow.