"Our house was very cluttered," Hill says with a laugh. "I was exposed to it and saw my parents’ love for it."

THE VALUE of African American art, such as Betye Saar’s mixed-media assemblage, Record for Hattie, is rapidly rising. (Photograph by Michael Rosenfeld Gallery.)

His evolution into a collector began in 1993, his junior year at Duke, when he moved into his own apartment. To decorate the empty walls, Hill purchased a print by Ernie Barnes for the college student–friendly price of under $100. Since then, Hill has amassed more than 100 pieces in a collection focused on African American masters including Elizabeth Catlett and Romare Bearden. For Hill, collecting these works provides an opportunity to celebrate and understand his African American heritage. "My parents were excited when I bought that first piece in college. They realized there was hope," Hill says. "In the last 10 or 11 years, I’ve become passionate."

Many others—including collectors of all colors, curators addressing gaps in their museums and international buyers—share Hill’s passion. Until recently, collectors had their pick of high-quality works (such as Bearden’s collages from the 1960s) for a few thousand dollars. But they now face steep competition and six-figure price tags.

Recent high-profile auction results illustrate the surge. Lawrence’s The Builders, estimated at $400,000 to $600,000, commanded $2.5 million at Christie’s in May. Last February, Swann Galleries hosted the first major auction dedicated solely to African American fine art. The sale drew more than 300 people—so many that they could not all sit in the auction room. Results totaled $2.3 million, just above the low estimate, and set records at auction for about 20 artists.

ELIZABETH CATLETT'S Nude Torso sold for $120,000 in February at Swann Galleries. (Photograph by Swann Galleries.)

"When I went to the preview for the sale, it was astounding to see the number of people there, and so thrilling," says June Kelly, owner of an eponymous gallery in New York. "It validated the importance of the African American artists . . . and made people feel good that all of these artists, not just Romare and Jacob, are being recognized."

This long-overdue recognition fuels optimism about the prospect of continued gains. However, the very fact that no major auction house had held such a sale until just this year underscores the bias that has long shaped the market for works by African American artists—one that lingers today. The duality inherent in the term "African American" has played out in the careers of many artists. Lawrence, for example, was a central player in the evolution of American modernism. He was also an outsider excluded because of color, contending with the clumsy label "primitive" that white critics applied to his work. Although it brings deserved attention to artists, the category of African American art is also problematic, tacitly implying that the artists only treat narratives of African American experience.

"All those labels are very difficult, like feminist art. I think it is just a convenient label people use because they are interested in separating people, which is a form of prejudice or racism if it’s done by race," artist Betye Saar says. California-based Saar, an octogenarian, has treated a range of subjects, from the overtly political liberation of Aunt Jemima to more holistic, metaphysical themes during her 40-year-plus career. "I balance those as a human being, and I would like the public to be aware of that, that I do more than one kind of imagery."

Heralds of Heritage
Centuries of race-based exclusion of works by African American artists also inform the act of collecting. Thus Bill Cosby’s inclusion of works from his personal collection on the set of The Cosby Show served a dual purpose. More than mere set decor, the art affirmed his and Camille Cosby’s wealth and taste, while sending a message about what qualifies as "good" art.

"He was very strategically trying to make a subliminal statement that said: Here’s my home, I’m African American, I have the same kinds of problems as any other American family, but the pictures I have on my wall are made by African American artists about the lives we live, which are still by and large a mystery to mainstream America," says artist and scholar Leslie King-Hammond, graduate dean at the Maryland Institute College of Art in Baltimore.

VALUE JUDGMENT Popularity and prices for African American fine art have risen in recent years. Last February saw the first auction dedicated solely to the genre. It is a market long shaped by prejudice, and collectors, many of whom see their support as a kind of political statement, are often willing to share their holdings with museums and other venues, furthering interest. Growing attention makes the market more competitive. Still, experts see opportunities in abstract works and pieces by young contemporary artists.

When Norma and John Thompson built their home in Indianapolis 14 years ago, they designated one wall as "the Sam Gilliam wall." Like the Cosbys, the Thompsons felt strongly about reflecting their history and heritage in their collection. Norma recalls that they visited Gilliam’s studio in Washington, D.C., and acquired a work that still hangs in their home.

"What I enjoy most is the beauty of the art. Sam Gilliam’s work is so colorful and very vibrant, even the textures are alive to me," Norma says.

Since that first purchase in Gilliam’s studio, the Thompsons have made an effort to get to know every living artist whose work they collect. Though John never met Lawrence in person, they had a dozen phone conversations before Lawrence’s death in 2000. John recalls talking with Lawrence about the first painting of his that the Thompsons bought, Tie Rack. They discussed the Harlem apartment where Lawrence lived when he created the work, as well as his experiences in the neighborhood and his life as an African American artist in New York.

"Jake was there through it all," says John, owner of an Indianapolis firm that specializes in industrial and construction supplies. "I can begin to understand and feel that entire evolution, and why so many African American artists of that period ended up in Europe."

Sometimes the personal connections the Thompsons forge with artists lead to highly personal art. After meeting Gilliam, the Thompsons visited him when they returned to John’s hometown of Baltimore. They were also fans of Chicago-based sculptor Richard Hunt and asked the artists to collaborate on a table, believing their styles would complement each other. Hunt created four elaborate steel legs and a base, which the Thompsons picked up and drove to Gilliam’s studio so he could add the tabletop. The piece now sits in their living room, surrounded by other Hunt sculptures and abstract pieces by Jack Whitten.

Norma loves living among these works, but she also recognizes the importance of sharing them. To that end, the Thompsons regularly loan a substantial portion of their collection, focused on 20th-century abstract works, to museums. They continue to loan works, even after one prized piece, a Catlett Seated Woman sculpture purchased for $20,000 in 1993, was chipped while on loan. "Artwork is meant to be seen, and I want the world to see the work," John says.

Other collectors feel the same. Between 2003 and 2005, 45 of Hill’s works were on view in a traveling exhibition. Many visitors were people who do not regularly attend such shows, and Hill raised money to fund field trips for inner-city children. "The idea of an NBA athlete having anything on display can excite some young people," Hill says. "Part of the purpose of having it travel was that I understand how important the exposure was for me at a young age."

TOTEM, BY Hale Aspacio Woodruff, sold for $96,000 in February when Swann Galleries held the first major auction of African American fine art. (Photograph by Swann Galleries.)

Some collectors have found that their willingness to display pieces in museum shows can help clinch the deal for a coveted work. That was the case recently for Florida-based collectors Jacqueline Bradley, vice chair of the Greater Orlando Aviation Authority, and Clarence Otis Jr., CEO of Darden Restaurants. Since beginning their collection two decades ago, they have worked hard to gain credibility, forging relationships with dealers, including June Kelly, meeting with artists and supporting the Studio Museum in Harlem. Over time, their wish list expanded from inexpensive prints to six-figure paintings by William H. Johnson, and, more recently, a globe by Fred Wilson. Bradley acquired that piece at Wilson’s opening at the PaceWildenstein Gallery in New York by offering to include the work in a show of their collection this year at the Cornell Fine Arts Museum at Rollins College in Winter Park, Fla. "You hear about a lot of struggling artists, but many artists can pick and choose where their work will reside," Bradley says.

Trends and Tendencies
As with any art collecting endeavor, knowledge from extensive research is critical in determining the values of particular pieces. John Thompson has amassed 300 books and exhibition catalogs since he began collecting. Recommended texts include Black Art: A Cultural History by Richard J. Powell and Two Centuries of Black American Art by David C. Driskell. The Studio Museum in Harlem is an excellent source, as are historically black colleges.

No artist creates a masterwork every time, and connoisseurs know the period in which an artist produced the strongest pieces, as well as which factors most affect value. They know to look for flaking on one of Lawrence’s tempera-on-panel works, or to examine the glaze on an abstract expressionist work by Henry Ossawa Tanner to ensure it wasn’t inadvertently removed by overzealous cleaning. Narratives of African American experience and life are the most sought-after works, and these pieces command higher prices, according to Michael Rosenfeld of Michael Rosenfeld Gallery in New York, although he expects abstract works to gain popularity.

This year, Bradley changed insurance companies and was startled by a reappraisal that showed just how much their collection had appreciated. Some pieces she and Otis bought have vaulted tenfold. Bradley, Hill and Thompson are all turning their attention to acclaimed young artists like Kara Walker and Glenn Ligon, whose works often command less than those of the 20th-century masters.

For Hill, the appreciation of African American works that started in his childhood continues to evolve. "I put together a nice collection real fast, but I’m still developing my tastes," he says. "I’m curious to see how that all changes."

Catherine Curan is a senior correspondent for Worth.