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PERSONAL VIEW ■ SANDY MALLET celebrates the London fairs season and explains his new zest for life
IF you thought, along with Vivaldi and the local pizza restaurant, that the number of seasons in a year was sacrosanct, forever set at four, get ready for a thunderbolt. The Chinese, with typical over- industriousness, seem to have 24, for example. And if you’re in the Arctic, you only get two: Polar Day and Polar Night. I had quite forgot, until the other day, being in London means being able to enjoy five. Summer, Autumn, Winter, Spring, and Art Fair Time. Suddenly we’re swamped, and fairs are popping up
all around us like overnight mushrooms. Though, it has to be said, mushrooms that are a darn sight smarter and newer than ever before. At last, we seem to have grown up, and waved goodbye to the quirkier, more provincial fairs, replacing them with a slicker, more international breed. The brand new Masterpiece, at the end of June. The revamped Olympia, in full swing as I write. The tented Art Antiques London et al. My desk is piled high with invitations. Clearly there’s been some clever marketing work behind the scenes. These new fairs aren’t targeted at the grifters and drifters of previous years, but seem to be reaching further out – and further up – to a new, more evidently well-heeled set. The VIP lounges are bigger, the stands more columned, and the invitations even include your own credit card-like entry device. I suppose, with Grosvenor House now but a distant
memory, new places had to be found for the über- wealthy to walk up and down and tickle some fine objects. When helping out on a stand at Olympia the other day I saw a steady train – well, at least a handful – of collectors at the very highest level. Quite happy to be mixing it with the hoi polloi. We had Mick Jagger walk past the stand, not quite stopping to say hello. And there was indeed a rock star theme to the day, as the Olympia fair included a mini exhibition of highlights from Bryan Ferry’s private collection of early 20th-century Brit pix. All rather surprisingly brown, given the glitzyness of his pop career. Good luck to it all, I say. A new lungful of life seems
back page My reasons to be cheerful
to have been breathed into the art world this summer, that’s good for all and sundry up and down the land. Though I’m not going to start clambering up to the rooftops until we see how much actually gets sold. And paid for.
It may be that I’m just blinded by the glamour of it all. I’ve only been in London for two or three weeks, following my reluctant retreat from the green hills of Dorset. I think I’ve just about stopped sounding like a maiden aunt up from the country. “Gosh, the smells and the people, it’s all so busy!” And I have just started getting stuck into old haunts – galleries and auction rooms included. With one of the real delights being able to bump into such an enormous array of delicious and stimulating art objects. A sleepy corner of my mind has woken up again.
It may also be, of course, because I’ve just had one
of the greatest shocks of my life, after which everything seems completely fresh and vital. Coming up from Dorset in my old Land Rover, trying to avoid a rash idiot in a silver BMW, I ended up bashing into the central reservation of the M3 at 70mph, rolling over a few times and skidding upside down at a fair old lick for longer than was comfortable. Very strangely, I wasn’t really hurt at all. They got me out, did some tests in the ambulance for an hour or so, and then gave me a lift to Farnborough station. Ever since, I’ve been feeling that I’ve been blessed with a new life. And that prayers – even very short ones done at high speed – can work wonders. It’s rather a dramatic way of making me seize the day and apply the spurs, but it’s done the trick. And it’s a spirit that seems to coincide with a lot else that’s happening around me. True, there are huge recessionary mountains to be scaled and quagmires of debt to be traversed (my own as well as the nation’s), but as the summer kicks in I am feeling everything’s a little perkier. Possibilities are in the air. New art fairs are sprouting everywhere you look. Andy Murray is all set for Wimbledon. The only downer being the damage
done to Rio Ferdinand’s knee ligaments. I’m off tomorrow to take up my post on the Olympia stand. I must remember to bring some springy shoes this time, or maybe a pair of fluffy slippers. Standing there all day can be hell on the feet. But actually I rather like seeing the visitors come round, and chatting about the paintings with them, finding out what they know, and what sort of facts are going to delight them. I believe it does genuinely teach you something about introducing works of art to people, and interesting them in unsuspected qualities. Also, of course, doing a fair like that means being able to go round hundreds of other stands, and finding utter gems in the most unexpected places. I’m not the sort of chap who sews buttons on, and I wouldn’t class myself as a major textiles collector, but I did fall in love with an extraordinary red velvet-framed panel the other day, dating from 1540, and made up from bits of pre-Reformation copes and chasubles. Not just a wonderful evocation of a distant and Catholic age, but charmingly worked, with lilies all over the place. And all for under £10,000. I would never have thought of putting something like that on my Christmas list. It all suits the polymath in me. If I have a point of focus, and a singular passion, it’s modern British art. And that’s what I’ve mostly written about. But it’s ridiculously easy to distract me with something completely different. A nice bit of walnut, a good Japanese pot, a gold ground Madonna and Child. I just can’t seem to settle down. It’ll be interesting to see how all these new fairs do over the summer. Whether my high hopes are justified. I will no doubt report back with tales of derring-do, and will be on the look-out for larky stories along the way. They are a bother and an expense for dealers, I know, but London’s fairs draw people from all round the globe, and perform a powerful role in the art world. I have to say I love ‘em. So get stuck in, and get visiting.
sandy@sandymallet.com I ended up bashing into the central reservation of the M3 at 70mph… Sporting fever....
As the nation goes mad for the World Cup this month Antiques Trade Gazette celebrates things collectable in a special feature dedicated to sporting antiques.
To reserve your space within this feature, please do not
Issue 1946 on sale: Monday 21st June Cover dated: Saturday 26th June Copy deadline: Wednesday 16th June
Zoe Prophet
hesitate to contact us T: 020 7420 6652
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zoeprophet@atgmedia.com An official 1930 World Cup poster, designed by Guillermo Laborde (1886-1940). Sold by Graham Budd Auctions for £4,500
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