Antiques Trade Gazette 83 back page PERSONAL VIEW My journeys of the imagination


■ SANDY MALLET looks at how geography and cartography can inform art


MY little brother copied me all the time. Copied my toys and books and games, nicking all my best ideas. I suppose I should have felt fl attered, but it just got me hot under the collar, muttering his name as I planned another way to get back at him. That, though, was 40 or 45 years ago,


a decent span of time, and I believe I’m beginning to get over it at last. In fact, as he’s doing so much better than I am – a good job in television, a big house near the river, a delightful family – I’m even thinking of taking a few leaves out of his book for a change. One of my greatest fl ights of fancy was


the creation of the kingdom of Sealand, an island far away on some other earth, full of all the things that most gripped me at the time. It had a football team, as proved by the carefully drawn team photos (three rows, kneeling at the front, standing on benches at the back), resplendent in their red and white national colours, each player, of course, with a different facial expression or hair colour or beard, and each with a name, clearly inscribed beneath. My brother, quick to copy, created his


own island, and called it Femland. This had a much less well drawn football team photo, all of the players togged up in a sickly yellow. He did, though, win outright when it came to inventing good names for his players. And the Femland fi rst choice goalkeeper, called Gorse Gordon, has entered family folklore. As well as the team photos, I had fun


inventing numerous brightly-coloured birds to occupy the branches and skies


of Sealand, and the odd lumbering mammal. Most of my energy, though, went into working on endless maps of my new country, its cities and coastline, its mountains and forests, its roads and buildings, planning ways in which things could work, and people get around. I’m sure I would have made a great 18th-century ruler, ordering this and constructing that. The love of maps has stayed with


me, stuck fast to my list of things most fascinating. When I was being a painter in Dorset a couple of years ago, I churned out big map paintings, describing walks and geology and paths that wound through that part of the world. And for my selection for Desert Island Discs – you have to be prepared just in case – I am going to have as my luxury item a complete collection of Ordnance Survey maps. Poring over those would keep me happy long long after my eight songs had turned stale. What is it


about maps that makes my eyes sparkle? Perhaps it’s something that Vermeer saw, that maps, like paintings, are a two-dimensional representation of a 3-D world. They do what art wants to do, although I just as much like the way they can be a record of journeys, lines from one point to another, in the way that Richard Long works. Far less pompously, I just love the idea


of poring over a map, being transported to where it represents, being sent to wherever my fi nger lands. And I love the


difference between the likes of the close contour lines of the Malvern Hills and the broad tide marks of the north Norfolk coast. It’s also ideas of regionality that excite me, that amazing set of subtle differences between one part of Great Britain and another. It’s not just a wise metaphor to teach us to glory in how different we are as human beings, to value our un-sameness – though that’s a lesson worth waking up to every day – it’s also about how different places at different times have produced unique kinds of art. Art that couldn’t have been made 50 miles to the east or west. St Ives is the loudest example, that


“St Ives is the loudest example, that honeypot of British modernism after the war. Teams of exhausting art historians have written about how nowhere else, no other town, could have produced the same circumstances, the same motivations, the same paintings”


honeypot of British modernism after the war. Teams of exhausting art historians have written about how nowhere else, no other town, could have produced the same circumstances, the same motivations, the same paintings. Mostly because of the extraordinary light. Is the same true of Tunbridge Ware? Could those charming inlaid boxes have ever originated in Thirsk instead? It’s diffi cult to tell. I like the


regionality of the art world too. Although London inevitably snatches most of the cake,


there are other parts of the country that are now stronger than ever when it comes to auction sales, with bidders fl inging their arms up like there’s no tomorrow. It’s becoming surprisingly big business – just look at what’s been happening in Salisbury and Dorchester and thereabouts. Part of this revitalisation of auction


houses outside of London is about what a specifi c region can bring. In London, you are surrounded by jewellers and hat shops, and buyers – when they enter the portals of Sotheby’s or Christie’s – feel they are taking part in a historic world of taste and smartness. But take yourself off to Woolley and Wallis or Duke’s and the experience is a good deal earthier, you are somehow closer to the objects, and the whole process is more visceral and human, without you necessarily dealing with objects of lesser quality. Quality was, however, a slight issue


at the auction I attended last weekend at Burnham Market in Norfolk. It was a blistering day, and all the lots were laid out in rows on the village green. The trickle of viewers throughout the morning, mostly on their way to The Hoste Arms I think, turned into a seething mob when the clock struck one. The auctioneer shouted out that he couldn’t guarantee anything and we were off. We quickly lost out on the model ship


but triumphed on the pair of watering cans. The wicker deck chair soared beyond my limit, but I was saving myself for one of the fi nal lots, a large spinable globe. Surely the ultimate kind of map. If you didn’t mind about condition, or fi nesse of execution for that matter, it was a superb example. A proud thing for any gentleman’s library. I was not alone. My notional limit of


£20 was quickly revised to £30, but the bidding rose higher, with glances and laughter fl ashing round the crowd. “Forty fi ve pounds then. It’s yours sir.” One or two people even clapped. But the sir wasn’t me. Some heartless millionaire outbid us all and trampled on my dreams. I don’t really mind. Anyway, it was a


rubbish globe. I couldn’t even fi nd Sealand on it.


sandy@sandymallet.com


Antiques Trade Gazette – Asian Art in London


Centred around Asian Art in London the editorial content of Issue 2013 will focus on Asian Art in the UK and abroad. • Pictorial listing of the shortlist for the ATG Asian Art prize • Previews of London and Provincial Sales • Exhibition previews • Review of Asian Art sales in New York


UK DEALERS


Marika Clemow marikaclemow@atgmedia.com Tel: +44 (0)20 7420 6645


Carissa Walton carissawalton@atgmedia.com Tel: +44 (0)20 7420 6642


The issue will be available for collectors, museum curators and dealers to pick up across London while visiting the galleries and auction houses who are taking part in the event.


Issue 2013 – cover dated Oct. 29 Readers will receive copies week of Oct. 24 Copy deadline Wednesday Oct. 19


F O R M O R E I N F O R M A T I O N P L E A S E C O N T A C T T H E T E A M UK AUCTIONS


Lisa Hoffmann elisabethhoffmann@atgmedia.com Tel: +44 (0)20 7420 6646


OVERSEAS AUCTIONEERS AND DEALERS


Jennifer Daly jenniferdaly@atgmedia.com Tel: +44 (0)20 7420 66433


Dan Pennington danpennington@atgmedia.com Tel: +44 (0)20 7420 665


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