In less than a decade, Dan Albrecht has catapulted himself into the world's top tier of collectors of Inuit art.

All the while, in a half-dozen ventures into the Canadian Arctic, Greenland and Alaska, the retired, Phoenix-based entrepreneur has documented the lives of Inuit (or Eskimo) artists in photographs and recorded interviews.

So what it's like to snuggle down in an igloo?

"I've never seen an igloo," Albrecht, 71, says as he surveys "Arctic Spirit: Inuit Art from the Albrecht Collection at the Heard Museum" in the Harnett Museum of Art at the University of Richmond. "I've never been in the Arctic in a season when igloos could be used. I've planned my trips around black flies and mosquitoes. If I want to sleep in ice, I'll go to Sweden and stay in the ice hotel."

In Arctic outposts, Albrecht settles for "small hotels that are not exactly primitive, the sort of places that have metal shower stalls that may be rusting and menus that offer no choice."

The 120 sculptures, wall hangings, prints, drawings, carved ivories and decorated items of clothing in "Arctic Spirit" are culled from the approximately 4,000 Inuit objects that Albrecht has promised Phoenix's Heard Museum, a leading showcase of Native American art.

Albrecht was president of the Heard's board of trustees for many years.

After an introductory gallery, "Arctic Spirit" breaks down into sections devoted to the human figure, animals, hunting and the supernatural.

It spans 2,250 years of Inuit creativity.

A handful of the objects are small ivory carvings created in the Bering Straits area during prehistoric times. The rest were created during Albrecht's lifetime.

Why the big gap?

"They were too busy just surviving - making shelter, finding food - to make art in that 2,000-year period," the loquacious Albrecht explains.

Unlike most museum-quality African art, which grows out of the life and rituals of tribal cultures, most of the works in "Arctic Spirit" were created to be sold and provide livelihoods for their makers. But, in Albrecht's view, they amount to far more than what African art specialists disparagingly dub "airport art."

"With the Inuits, it's a case of necessity yielding the birth of creativity," Albrecht says. "These people are very resourceful. They're used to making something from nothing. They use what they have. Bones, stone, animal skins - that's what they have. You won't see wood here because wood is hard to come by in the Arctic."

Albrecht began collecting Indian-head pennies and rocks and minerals in early childhood. By his sophomore year at the University of Arizona, where he studied metallurgical engineering, he was collecting Indian art of the Southwest.

As he turned his science degrees into business gold, he began collecting Dutch Old Master paintings, English silver and burl walnut furniture of the William and Mary and Queen Anne periods. But he continued collecting art of the Southwest, which led to his interest in Inuit art.

"Inuit art is a reflection of Southwestern art," he says. "Southwestern art is art from a hot desert; Inuit art comes from a cold desert."

He began collecting Inuit art specifically to fill what he perceived as a void at the Heard Museum.

"My timing couldn't have been better," he says. "The Inuit market has exploded in the last five years because the supply of top-quality material hasn't matched the demand. The market had to explode."

Albrecht estimates that he spent $4 million to acquire an Inuit trove now worth $13 million.

"Collecting Inuit art has been extremely gratifying," he says. "I know these people. When I look at so many of these pieces, I see images of their makers."

Despite befriending Inuit artists, however, he's bought most of his collection through Canadian galleries.

"I haven't done a lot of purchasing from the artists because that would disturb the lines of supply," he says.

Albrecht has documented the lives of 120 Inuit artists in words and photographs and expects to document 130 more. He's writing a book about these encounters.

"The biggest challenge has been to locate the really fine pieces," he says. "The biggest surprise was the competitiveness of other collectors, who can be vicious.

"I mean vicious like the collector who traveled from Western Canada to Ottawa in pursuit of a piece a dealer had promised to me. He offered the dealer twice as much to sell it to him.

"Inuit artists and dealers have a high level of integrity that collectors can't match."
Roy Proctor, a freelance writer and theater director, retired in 2004 as the art and theater writer for The Times-Dispatch. He can be reached at royproctor@aol.com.