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By ANNA DOBROWOLSKI
Tucked away in a warehouse in the heart of the West Loop, the Orange Door hosts a mélange of Japanese woven bamboo baskets, 17th century Spanish colonial art, a sonar-activated windmill and a mirrored infinity chamber. It can take some effort to gain access to an eclectic art collection in the best of times: like an art speakeasy, the Orange Door, an exhibition space operated by the Carl & Marilynn Thoma Art Foundation, is typically open to educational groups, curators, and art aficionados by appointment only. Luckily, in the middle of a pandemic, the barriers separating us from the collection just got lifted.
In early March I was able to connect with Marilynn and Carl Thoma to discuss how they first got into art collecting. Since graduating Stanford business school in the 70s, the duo has amassed over 1,400 works of art, making them a fashionable power couple for whom art is not just business but a lifestyle. Carl Thoma heads Thoma Bravo LLC, a private equity firm he cofounded in the 1980s; and Marilynn Thoma actively serves on the boards of the Chicago Shakespeare Theater, Chicago Humanities Festival, and the Art Institute of Chicago. Together in 2014 they established the Carl & Marilynn Thoma Art Foundation, which is dedicated to visual arts and philanthropic pursuits. Today they fund research into art scholarship, novel educational programs, and conservation.
Orange Door first opened in Chicago out of necessity, as the Thomas needed a home base from which to make art loans nationally and internationally. Currently, some of the art they have collected is on loan at the MCA, The Art Institute of Chicago, and the Museum of Contemporary Photography in Chicago, with another 17 across the Midwest. In Santa Fe, New Mexico, they also run a separate facility called Art House, which houses one of the largest digital collections open to the public year-round.
Each year the Thomas utilize Orange Door’s space to curate an exhibition featuring new Digital Art acquisitions and select artworks from across their collections. In September 2019 they hosted “Infinity Clock: Artworks on Time” and “The Algorists: Historic Computer Art.” The latter highlighted software-assisted work (namely, computer drawings on paper) created by artists such as Peter Beyls, Jean-Pierre Hébert, Manfred Mohr, Vera Molnar, Frieder Nake, Roman Verostko, Harold Cohen, and Mark Wilson. It is quite a treat to interact with these digital installations in person: however, when galleries are shut down to the public and exhibitions are either postponed or cancelled, we turn to our screens to access and engage their work.
How do we experience and collect art today? In this interview, the Thomas discuss their journey into the world of art collecting in the digital age.
Anna Dobrowolski: What set off the spark in 1975? What was the first piece that started the Thoma collection before it became a foundation in 2014?
Carl Thoma: Marilynn and I were both just out of graduate school when we began to collect art. Our interest was heavily centered around California Impressionism and the Taos Society of Artists, leading us to purchase paintings by artists including Redmond Granville, Joseph Henry Sharp, and E. Martin Hennings. Today we continue to collect artwork from across the American Southwest—both historic and contemporary.
AD: When you aren’t splitting time between Santa Fe and Chicago, do you have any favorite places or galleries you love to visit?
CT: It is hard to narrow down the list, but three art destinations we love to visit are Currents New Media festival in Santa Fe, Art Basel Miami, and the Prado Museum in Madrid.
AD: What do you look for when considering a work of art to add to your collection?
CT: At first it was a subjective decision—we buy what we like to look at. As we became more knowledgeable, we went deeper into a given period or movement and discovered ever more movements and artists. Because we make loans to museums, we also consider what a piece contributes to the history of art in general and how it might relate to other artworks.
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AD: How has your taste changed or solidified over the years?
CT: We have always been decisive, and we have learned a great deal from a handful of seasoned advisors. Over the years, we have been increasingly drawn to works that embody color, strong compositional design, mastery of the medium, and historical importance. Through the Carl & Marilynn Thoma Art Foundation, we have also become increasingly dedicated to expanding scholarship and collection conservation.
AD: Can you tell us more about those initiatives and collections? How do they challenge or shape our perspectives?
CT: We support initiatives and collect works of art that encourage reflection, demonstrate innovation, and encourage deeper questions. For example, in 2019 the Foundation’s inaugural Bold Initiatives grant was given to the Museum of Contemporary Art Chicago to support their OPEN HOUSE initiative. They are taking bold steps to enable greater visitor engagement. This includes making the museum accessible to all facets of the community—not just those who live nearby, who have visited a museum before, or who feel comfortable in such a space. We are helping to fund an onsite educator whose job centers around visitors: understanding their needs, asking questions, helping them to grow and learn in a conducive environment. This commitment to making art more accessible is mirrored in our public exhibition space Art House in Santa Fe, which presents highlights from our collection of Digital Art to a community with deep and rich cultural and artistic histories. We aim to bridge the gap between something familiar, like landscape painting, and something new. And we encourage visitors to ask questions about the art and dive deeper into how these connections across time and place affect them.
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AD: Many of the digital works in your collection incorporate some kind of interactive element. I’m intrigued by some featured pieces such as Rafael Lozano-Hemmer’s Please Empty Your Pockets, Jennifer Steinkamp’s Bouquet 1, Guillermo Galindo’s American Dream Flag / Bandera del sueño americano, or Lynn Harshman Leeson’s Deep Contact. In these examples the viewer is engaging with the subject through a screen, which seems to be one of our primary options when looking at art lately. What makes these installations significant today?
CT: These pieces are all very different, but what unites them is that each artist pursues an innovative technological idea to completion. In some of the examples you cite, the artists are at the forefront of digital art. Never before have such complex programmed works been viewable within art galleries. This represents a major shift in the experience of art, including interactivity.
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AD: How does your digital and electronic art collection speak to the idea of art making in a time where everything seems so readily accessible? Can you talk a bit about the shift into collecting Digital and Electronic Art?
CT: My business is rooted in investing in new technologies, so collecting digital and electronic art came naturally. Our Digital Art collection mirrors my interest in systematic approaches, scientific thinking, innovation, entrepreneurship, and technology that shifts the trajectory of human experience. Over the years, I’ve found myself considering the role that new technologies play in the evolution of artistic creation and how the artworks we collect inspire an expansion in our understanding of media in contemporary culture.
AD: Which piece is your most recent addition? How does it connect to the others?
CT: Our most recent acquisition is James Turrell’s Ursa Minor, Medium Elliptical Glass from 2019. He is a key figure in the Light and Space movement. It never seemed practical to own one of his seminal works from the 1960s, which are complicated to re-create. The piece that we acquired uses LEDs with a computer program to simulate the effects of the artist’s enchanting Skyspaces.
Art Collecting: A Family Affair
AD: From your perspective, how has the practice of art collecting changed?
CT: Over the past five decades, collectors have seen an increase in the number of opportunities to purchase. Almost daily, we receive digital images of pieces that are on the market. This increase in opportunity to purchase is especially true with digital artwork, which, like prints, may come in multiple editions.
AD: According to a 2017 interview in Albuquerque Journal, your daughter, Margo, is an art professional. What have you learned from her in terms of art and business?
CT: Margo has taught us a great deal about modern and contemporary art and Japanese bamboo sculpture. She works closely with some of the foremost scholars and advisors in the field of Japanese bamboo, whose research has informed the scope and shape of our collection. As a gallery director, she has also provided a view into the inner workings of the art market.
AD: Do you notice a shift between people wanting to own art and people wanting to experience it? How do you think millennials and younger generations will go about art collecting?
CT: Yes—and this is due in part to the fact that it is not necessary to own a work of art to connect with it and explore it from the comfort of your home. While nothing compares to experiencing an artwork in person, it is easier than ever to research and access art through online sources. More artworks are available to be seen as pieces in museum storage become uploaded and shared.
Today, artistic masterpieces have the power to impact broad audiences: scholars advancing study of the field, casual observers perusing our collections online, emerging collectors looking for inspiration. Collecting art and sharing it with the world ensures its preservation for future generations to enjoy.
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Fall offers a full slate of exhibitions across galleries and museums throughout the Midwest. Behind the scenes, many people in the community are working tirelessly to support artists and bring fresh perspectives to the public. We spoke with five insiders about what excites them now and what they anticipate next.
The following preview is one of five conversations that appear in CGN's Fall 2026 magazine. To receive a copy of the print edition click here.
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“I’m thrilled to further expand my artistic and design practice by introducing other mediums into the mix. I’m looking forward to watching the seasons change and devoting a lot of time in the studio as well. Fall/winter is my favorite time to create new works.
I have an upcoming solo show with VSG Contemporary that I am excited about. The work will delve further into the topics of cultural mythology and how these tales and narratives have helped shape my worldview.
Also, it wouldn’t be right if I left out my excitement for this upcoming season of Chicago sports.”
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Andi Crist, Extension Cords, Glazed stoneware, chrome, Sizes vary 2021-present. Photo: Mikey Mosher
This interview is part of CGN's Fall 2026 issue. Purchase a copy or subscribe.
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Andi Crist
BY ALISON REILLY
Andi Crist’s warm, engaging demeanor is evident in the first few minutes of our conversation. Generous with her time and forthcoming in her observations, she cares deeply about building relationships through her art making. Crist grew up in Birmingham, Alabama, devoured art classes, wrote songs and played music in high school, and moved to Chicago to study visual art at Columbia College. In 2024, she received her MFA from the University of Illinois at Chicago. She is a woodworker, sculptor, ceramicist, and conceptual artist, and she teaches at Illinois Institute of Technology. We discussed her multidisciplinary practice, her experience working as an art handler, preparator, and fabricator, and how she thinks about labor, creativity, and value in the art world.
CGN: You grew up in Birmingham, Alabama. How did that environment shape your point of view as an artist?
Andi Crist: That’s such a funny question. Nobody’s ever really asked.
CGN: Oh, really?
AC: Yeah, maybe because I never was super connected with the arts community down in Birmingham. I moved to Chicago in 2007, so it’s been 20 years since I lived in the South. I was definitely one of those art kids—one art credit was required in high school, and I graduated with like seven. I was surrounded by artists who had a big impact on me, because they were working artists. All my art teachers were trained in Alabama and then continued to teach and work in Alabama, which gave me this desire to try to expand my community outside of what I was familiar with.
CGN: Do you identify as a Chicagoan?
AC: My family still lives in Alabama, and I go back every year. I love being in Alabama. Maybe now being in Chicago for almost 20 years, I identify as a southerner living in the city. I carry on the social qualities of a friendly southern person [laughs].
CGN: You have a varied art practice—woodwork, ceramics, mold making. What drew you to those types of fabrication methods and that type of art making?
AC: My dad is a carpenter and a hobbyist woodworker, but his career was psychology, and my mom was a professor and an incredible craftswoman. I absorbed my mom’s model of creativity, which is to try a bunch of different things and not necessarily finish them but to try to learn as much as I can by just going for it. My practice over the years has become an exploration of conceptual elements of what makes art art and not just craft. Do you have to be a master craftsperson or a professional artist in order to make something that resonates with people?
I make a lot of work that references the mode of making and requires a variety of different media. I just finished teaching a ceramics production class where students learned how to produce molds, think about positives and negatives, and get into a level of production rather than just handicraft as a way to multiply their output.
I got into fabrication because I’ve always liked working with other artists. I have a background in theater and gallery work. I’m a voracious learner, and I like being able to share those skills with my community. Then I end up making work about that. It’s a self-feeding cycle.
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Andi Crist, Artist’s Ladder, 2023. Photo: Jeff Perlman
CGN: Thinking about your background as an art handler and preparator—how did you get to the point where you were making work about that experience?
AC: In 2010, right before I graduated from Columbia, I was living in a storefront in West Logan Square with my partner at the time. We started a gallery called Autotelic in the space and had to build it out using the worst tools with very minimal resources. Then we started curating shows there and that meant helping other artists figure out how to install their work in our unusual space. Eventually, I gained the reputation for knowing how to do that type of work. I started getting invited to work in museums and galleries.
The Holocaust Museum was the first museum I worked at, and as difficult as that subject matter is, that experience was really important to me because I was learning more about the larger world of gallery work. As an artist working as a preparator, you’re straddling both sides of that space. You’re really seeing how the sausage is made. You’re hearing all the conversations about artists, curators, the process of exhibition making. There is a lot of information you can gather about the economics of the art world by just being the person that has the know-how to touch and handle artwork. Eventually that started feeding into my art practice because I wanted to make work that was contributing to a conversation around art as a type of job. It fueled a methodology of seeing everything in the world as the result of a long line of processes that required effort and thoughtfulness by many hands.
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Andi Crist, Fair Warning, 2025.
CGN: The title of your recent exhibition at the Cleve Carney Museum—Live, Laugh, Lo—sorry, not Live, Laugh, Love—Live, Laugh, Labor.
AC: [Laughs] That’s what everybody does.
CGN: I love the title—it’s perfect. You incorporate humor along with thoughtful critiques about labor and value in your work. What role does humor play? How does it help you connect with your audience?
AC: One of my biggest criticisms of art with a capital A is how easily it can be overly intellectualized. I think that’s why I end up making a lot of work that references things that already exist or have some kind of real purpose. It’s important to give people a foothold so there’s an obvious place to board that train of thought. As an artist—maybe this is me getting into a sweeping argument about what artists should be—but I personally believe in intellectual accessibility. Humor is a swift way to drop defenses and allow people to come in without feeling like they are not getting the joke or not understanding. I like to make work that can hold both of those things at the same time—it’s funny on the surface level, it’s kind of cheeky, but there’s also another way to look at it that is intellectually clever. There is a joy in the attempt to “get it”. Like the satisfaction of grasping how a crossword puzzle actually works.
It’s also so much a part of my personality. I take myself seriously as an artist, but my ego isn’t at the heart of it. It’s really something that I do because I love to make things, and I love to connect with other people. My parents raised me on puns, creating those language relationships between things and people and space. Understanding a joke is the same way that we understand art, and while neither of my parents would consider themselves artists, they taught me how to think about art.
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Andi Crist, 69 Bananas
CGN: Your work, Artist’s Ladder, explores hierarchies, workplace cultures, and institutional values. What experiences shaped your reflections on these themes?
AC: The ladder piece distinctly represents the complicated relationship between front of house, back of house, and the hierarchy of labor. Who is the artist in those relationships? How much does another person’s knowledge and expertise contribute to the success of another artist?
There are enormous, industrialized art practices out there, warehouses full of people making things, and those people are also artists. When you make work that involves other people, it’s important to acknowledge their contributions. I’ve had complicated interactions with other artists who are like, ‘Hey, do you want to collaborate with me on this thing?’ but really they just want me to make their idea. I made Artist’s Ladder while I was in grad school at UIC, and it really represented my relationship with a lot of other artists, because I could be an actual support structure for them. Then it turned into this absurd physical thing. It’s extremely overbuilt with inlaid racing stripes made of exotic hardwood, and a butcher’s block-style plaid top. It’s not really like an FU as much as it is asking for acknowledgement of my skills and the essential support structures that exist.
CGN: I want to ask you about another piece, Five O’Clock Somewhere, a wool rug that resembles a children’s play mat. I work at a library, and it reminded me of rugs I see all the time. It’s a peaceful image of an office park with a large fountain surrounded by a parking lot. I’m curious why you chose a rug as the medium to depict that image.
AC: To me the heart of that joke was that it was a landscape. I wanted it to be physically traversable. And that was, I don’t want to say controversial, but it was something that I had to talk about a lot. The critique of that work was the fact that I didn’t want to hang it on the wall and turn it into a tapestry. I really wanted it to be a rug that people could walk on. When I showed that work at Chicago Artists Coalition for the New City Breakout Artists show. There was a lot of pushback about having it on the floor and allowing people to walk on it.
That, to me, was such an important conversation, because, in my mind, the fact that you could walk across it and traverse it was part of how I was thinking about the object. Rugs are utilitarian–they are floor coverings. When you make art that doesn’t do anything, you don’t get to participate in that part of the conversation.
I enjoy sparring around art like that. I am totally tickled by the pushback. The critique of display is exciting, and sorting through the politics of utilitarianism in art spaces is fun to me. And then—it was so crazy—we ended up showing it halfway on the wall and halfway on the ground.
![](\"https://res.cloudinary.com/dfafo598z/image/upload/v1788961829/r1zylkwfw9rkw191skdl.jpg\")
Andi Crist, Five O’Clock Somewhere, on display at Live, Laugh, Labor: Thoughts on Usefulness and Other Myths at The Cleve Carney Museum of Art, 2025.
CGN: Oh, wow.
AC: I was like, this is the epitome of compromise! I had to build a structure so that it could hang that way safely.
CGN: I would say just put it on the ground if that’s what you want to do. It’s interesting that there are still very fixed ideas about the way that art should be displayed.
AC: That preparator part of it, that’s what I’m all about. I was having that conversation about what physically supports the work or what conceptually supports it in the way that it’s shown.
CGN: Have you always been a writer? How do your art and writing practices work together?
AC: I can’t say that I’m a writer, it’s probably the same way that it can feel weird to call yourself an artist. But I feel like I’ve always been relatively good at writing. The first time I ever did any kind of professional writing was contributing, a long time ago, to a website called eHow. The editors would send me a title, and then I would have to research how to do that thing. Then I would write out step-by-step instructions for how to do that.
I think that’s how I had to make myself think through my conceptual practice—I had to do the research, coagulate that into some kind of document, and then I would have stream-of-consciousness conversations with myself. “Why are we interested in this? Why would we make it this way? What would I want to talk about if someone were to ask me about this?” It’s almost like I was pre-interviewing myself.
I think the writing is just another way for me to process that idea before I put in all of the time and energy to actually accomplish it.
CGN: What are you working on right now? What projects do you have coming up?
AC: The biggest project that I have right now is my house. My family and I suffered a major house fire on New Year’s Day. We’ve been displaced since then and are navigating rebuilding our house. It was a total loss.
![](\"https://res.cloudinary.com/dfafo598z/image/upload/v1788961830/kekfqzf9f87fq48juogh.jpg\")
Andi Crist, Single-Use Fireplace, 2025. Photo: Mikey Mosher.
CGN: I’m so sorry to hear that.
AC: Thank you. We’re all okay, but it’s been a really tumultuous year. I moved my studio into a storefront last summer, and so most of my, at least relatively recent, work is safe, and I still have all of my materials, but my home life is starting over. I just had my first full year at this space, and it’s got a little gallery built out in the front called Coming Soon. It’s beautiful with floor-to-ceiling windows on Division and Central Park. I’ve been inviting people into the space to try things out.
After teaching the ceramics class, I came into a bunch of nice slip casting molds, and I’m making some really playful, weird, ceramic stuff. I want to be open and not put too much pressure on myself. Having a big studio by myself is very expensive, so it’s easy to want to make it feel like it’s worth it. But if for now all I can do is make it a resource for other people, then that will be the thing I do. Be less selfish, but more selfish with my time. Saying I can’t do that, or I don’t want to do that. It’s not my nature to say no—I’m such a yes man. I’m learning how to be a yes man for myself.
CGN: That makes sense after going through something so traumatic.
AC: I have an amazing support system. Our friends started a GoFundMe. It was incredible. I’m so humbled and floored by how held I felt by Chicago. I can’t help but throw a little shout out to my Chicago people. I can see how people’s lives get totally ruined by this kind of tragedy. I feel so lucky. Chicago definitely showed its love back.
CGN: For your project Coming Soon, are you bringing in other artists?
AC: My philosophy is that I want to be involved as little as possible. I am thinking about it more as a hosted than curated space. I’m actively soliciting proposals or ideas for workshops, meetings, book clubs—I’m down for making it a resource, whatever that means. I don’t want to over-think it, I want it to be an intuitive and organic thing, which is why I call it Coming Soon—it can be a placeholder for anything. It’s exciting. Taking my hands off the reins is a good exercise for me.
![](\"https://res.cloudinary.com/dfafo598z/image/upload/v1788961831/gno5dhliwfnzpuaim78s.jpg\")
Andi Crist, Extension Cords, Glazed stoneware, chrome, Sizes vary 2021-present. Photo: Mikey Mosher
Fall offers a full slate of exhibitions across galleries and museums throughout the Midwest. Behind the scenes, many people in the community are working tirelessly to support artists and bring fresh perspectives to the public. We spoke with five insiders about what excites them now and what they anticipate next.
The following preview is one of five conversations that appear in CGN's Fall 2026 magazine. To receive a copy of the print edition click here.
![](\"https://res.cloudinary.com/dfafo598z/image/upload/v1789516769/izokunnmrufdyjbjnypk.jpg\")
“Intuit Art Museum’s renovated, expanded spaces give audiences the chance to connect with art through daily art-making, third Thursday Art After Work, group Slow Looks designed to provide a mindful experience with a single work and upcoming conversations with sculptor Bill Brady (Oct. 3) and Dr. Mary Trent (Oct. 15), who curated our current exhibition on the role of scrapbook-making in Henry Darger’s art.
On view is the thought-provoking Monumental: The Sculpture of Dr. Charles Smith, which encourages guests to consider the lack of historical representation of African Americans and Black people in America. Dr. Smith’s memorials champion Black history and stories of everyday life he sees missing in mainstream narratives.
This fall we’re opening an exhibition of paintings by Karla Wong, an artist who immigrated from Oaxaca and who explores themes of life and death, gender identity and self-discovery.”