Among the more than 100 photographs in “Presence: The Photography Collection of Judy Glickman Lauder,” an exhibition of 20^th century masterpieces at the Sarasota Art Museum, there is no portrait of the woman for whom the display is named.

Judging by a delightful hour spent with her on the telephone, that’s likely because Lauder, at 88, remains in humble awe of the outstanding photographers whose work she has gathered over more than 50 years — even as her own photography has earned significant recognition. Yet her philosophical and humanistic bent are revealed in every image, be it a single capture of a celebrity or the dozens of photos related to issues of human rights, social justice and the human condition.

“’Presence’ really means the human presence of these images and I’m very interested in humanity,” said Lauder (who characteristically insists, “I’m Judy!” when initially addressed as “Mrs. Lauder”). “Some of the images are timeless, some are of the moment and they all have meaning to me because, it’s humanity. It’s us! For better or for worse.”

The seeds of her interest in both photography and humankind were planted early. Lauder grew up (in northern California) as the daughter of Irving Bennett Ellis – a doctor, but also an avid photographer and friend to many other notable image makers of the time, whom Lauder met as a child. But it wasn’t until she had finishing raising her own four children that Lauder seriously took up a camera herself and began collecting in earnest.

The travelling show at the Sarasota Art Museum – one of just four venues across the country chosen to host the iconic images by some of the most famous names in photography, including Richard Avedon, Gordon Parks and Dorothea Lange – is but a fraction of Lauder’s entire collection of more than 700 images, many of which have been bequeathed to the Portland Museum of Art, near her home in Maine.

This portion is divided into seven thematic sections, each of which underscores Lauder’s passions and powers of observation: Portraits; Affection and Admiration; Expressing the Land; Specters of History; Labor, Justice and Dignity; Joy, Delight and Serendipitous; Vibrant Cities; and Politics, Hope and Despair.

After viewing the show, we left wanting to know more about the woman who brought these moving and historic images together. Thus came about our conversation with Lauder, an edited version of which follows. We suspect you’ll enjoy it as much as we enjoyed talking with her.

Tell us a little about your childhood and how your father’s photography career influenced you.

My father was not a professional photographer. I was born in 1938, my childhood was in the ‘40s and ‘50s and at that time photography was still not really recognized as a popular art form. My Dad was a doctor, a chiropractor and dietician – what today would be called an “alternative medicine” doctor. He was passionate about health and a believer in less stress; I didn’t know about white bread or sugar. He believed in diet and exercise; he had a column in the Oakland Tribune and a radio program on health. Jack LaLanne [the early fitness and nutrition guru] was a friend of his.

But his love was also the arts and photography and he was a real artist – he did oils, sculpture, even jewelry. He was president of the Oakland (California) Camera Club and his friends were photographers like Ansel Adams, who was working for the Sierra Club at the time, and Edward Weston, who had a photography studio in Glendale but was doing really artistic work. I grew up both in front of the camera and also in the dark room – not helping him, but watching these magical things happen in the developing phase.

There is a wonderful series of 15 images of you he took, starting with you nude at age one and ending with you at age 15 – in front of an enormous wooden door. Viewing it, I wondered if, as a child, you had loved being his subject or hated it?

I had two older brothers who could care less about being in front of Dad’s camera. You didn’t do candids in those days. It was an old Graflex, with ¾ negatives and natural light and the black cloth over his head … it took half a day. And apparently I must have loved it because I only remember one time when I was a teenager thinking, “In front of the door? Again??”

I loved my Dad and he loved taking pictures and it was kind of fun; I didn’t mind at all. He was totally a perfectionist; he picked out all the outfits I wore. He was really avant garde for his time, a pictorialist. [Pictorialism was a photographic movement that treated the camera as a fine art tool to create evocative, painterly images rather than factual records.]  That first picture of me in front of the door nude was an image he entered in a Popular Photography contest. There were 47,000 entries and it won first prize, which was a brand new Packard Clipper. He drove that car for so many years so proudly.

When did you start taking your own pictures?

My Dad was considered the photographer. I had an Instamatic, so I did birthday parties, graduations, family trips and so on, but serious photography was more my Dad until he got older and moved to southern California where he didn’t have a dark room. I was very busy raising four children, but sometime when I was in my late thirties, the two of us went to a real camera store and bought a real 35 mm camera with lenses and filters. I started going to post-grad classes at UCLA where I’d gone to school, and umpteen workshops in D.C. and Maine and everywhere. After my Dad passed in the ‘70s, I started learning more of the technical skills.

When did you begin collecting?

We always had black and white images, a changing exhibition, in the den in our home. I went to his friends’ studios and I was also a docent at the UCLA art museum. [Lauder graduated from UCLA.] One of the travelling exhibitions I saw was a collection of photographs by Graham Nash [of Crosby, Stills, Nash and Young]. I saw 50 or 60 images and they were all amazing, so I started going to galleries in L.A. and they were affordable because people weren’t really buying photography. A lot of my collection I bought then are worth hundreds of thousands of dollars now, but at the time, they were very affordable. Eventually I was living in Maine and L.A. and I didn’t have any more space, so I put them on loan to the Portland [Maine] Museum of Art and my collection just grew. It wasn’t until I thought I would bequeath them to the museum that my husband said, if you’re going to give it, give it in your lifetime, it’s much more fun. So I took his advice and it’s been wonderful seeing people’s responses.

I still go to galleries and auctions and exhibits. When I see something I can’t resist, something that adds to the collection, I still buy it.

What makes you want to buy a particular photograph?

I only purchased what I was really drawn to. Either it told a story or was of the moment or had some type of technique where I had no idea how they did it, but it piqued my interest. I’m very interested in humanity and all the incredible injustices we’ve performed, man against man. The civil rights period, I’m very interested in that. I never had curators, it’s really a very personal collection.

What I found as I was going through 700 images for this show was that I was able to really see what I’d been collecting. And all of a sudden, I’m looking at these images and seeing it is very similar to being a photographer, because I see all the different facets of me I’ve collected. Buying a photograph allows you to express certain facets of yourself. “Presence” really means the human presence of these images. Some are serious, like the one of workers looking like ants going down into the gold mines, and some are quirky, fun, funny.

Are there a few in your collection that have special meaning for you?

People ask me which are my favorites … It’s like asking, “Do you have a favorite child?” They’re all meaningful to me. One of the first ones I bought was the Jerry Uelsmann (“Small Woods Where I Met Myself”), the one that’s blown up very big in the exhibit, which is three images of his wife reflected in water, but only two are reflected. There are all these processes going on that he did in the dark room.

Another was Barbara Morgan’s, which shows a park in New York in the snow, but also an image of a dancer making a grand leap and a tulip. Those were fascinating to me because I’d never seen that before. But I also love the one with Mick Jagger on his wedding day with Bianca… sex, booze and rock ‘n roll … I smile every time I see it.

Some of your own work has used experimental techniques as well.

In the ‘70s I was taking a class at UCLA with Robert Heinecken and there was another student using infrared film. I had never known of it. At that time Kodak made a high speed film that was sensitive to infrared light. So if there was sun or light, it reflects it and if not, it absorbs and goes very dark so you have to use a heavy red filter and focus differently. For many years I had two cameras, one straight black and white and one infrared, which, by the way, Kodak doesn’t make any more. It really worked when I was doing Holocaust work because there’s a kind of grainy timelessness about it. When you do get an image in infrared that works, it’s just a gift.

Most of the images in your collection are black and white. How does color change a photograph or someone’s reaction to it?

Most are black and white, but I do have some color. One photographer, Alex Webb, who shot mostly in Grenada and hot climates, does incredible color. Nan Goldin does amazing color. First of all, we all see in color, so when you go into black and white you’re more aware of the shadows, the highlights, the image itself. I grew up with that and I love it. But there’s some things -- candids of kids and so on -- that color makes so alive and so fun. And there’s a lot of color work being done today that’s really good – including A.I.! I’m not really familiar with what’s going on today, but there are huge changes and some of it could be really interesting.

How do you feel about cell phones and the fact that everyone now has a camera at hand?

I love them. I use mine all the time. They’re great cameras and you always have them with you. And you can get into places where they wouldn’t allow cameras. I love digital and that you can see what you got and don’t have to wait and sometimes you really get a winner. But it’s important to edit. When you have so many photos it’s important to pick out one you really like, get rid of the rest and take it to a lab and have it blown up so you can use it and see it. The secret is in the editing. It’s free, so you can choose what you like, but I don’t think people treasure or sort through and edit enough to really find the images that are super and do something with them.

Are there photos you’ve missed and wish you’d taken?

Of course, so many. When you’re a photographer, many times you’re in some situation where you don’t have the right film or the right lens and you miss it. But as you get older you don’t pay attention to that, you just go for it and see what happens. There are also some I’ve taken that were very unexpected. I believe there’s a direct line between creativity and spirituality. And when I say it’s a gift, I’m not saying I have a gift, but it’s like a gift from God. Everything is creative, everything is spiritual and you just have to tap into that.

You’ve been married twice — for 54 years to Albert ‘Al’ Glickman, the father of your four children, and for 11 years to the late Leonard Lauder, former chair emeritus of the Estee Lauder companies. Among your progeny are four rabbis (Rabbi Brenner Glickman and his wife, Rabbi Elaine Glickman of Sarasota’s Tempel Emanu-el among them), 16 grandchildren and five great grandchildren -- with more on the way. Are any of them carrying on your family’s photography traditions?

Oh yes, many. And they’re doing great work. They know all the technical stuff I will never know or understand at all. I’m sure my father would be pleased.