I remember sitting in my back office in 2004, nursing a lukewarm espresso and staring at a spreadsheet that made me want to scream. A young painter had just walked out, convinced that the way commissions are brokered by galleries was some sort of mystical, untouchable ritual designed to keep him in the dark. He […]
I remember a client back in the late nineties—a lovely woman with more money than patience—who came into my gallery clutching a receipt for a massive, neon-soaked neo-expressionist canvas. She looked absolutely terrified. She had spent a small fortune on a piece that sat in her dining room like a screaming stranger because she had […]
I remember a young landscape painter named Julian who used to come into my gallery with works that were, quite frankly, heartbreaking. The composition was there, the light was divine, but the paint was literally peeling off the surface like sunburnt skin because he’d insisted on using student-grade oils on a buck-fifty canvas from a […]
I remember standing in the back of a studio in the late nineties, watching a young painter mix a batch of Cadmium Yellow with the kind of reckless abandon usually reserved for teenagers. There was no mask, no ventilation, just a cloud of fine, heavy dust hanging in the air like a death sentence in […]
I spent twenty-six years watching artists pour their souls into charcoal and graphite, only to be told by “experts” that they needed a thousand-pound masterclass to truly unlock their potential. It’s a racket. Most people will sell you a complete guide to drawing that focuses entirely on the romanticism of the “creative spark” or some […]
I remember a rainy Tuesday in 2004, standing in the back storage room of my gallery, staring at a stack of canvases that had been sitting there since the spring. They were beautiful, technically proficient, and utterly stagnant. I could feel the heavy, dusty weight of that failure pressing against my chest, and I knew […]
I remember a landscape oil, 60cm x 80cm, 1994. It was a stunning piece by a young man I represented early on, but by the time I saw it again five years later, the surface was a topographical map of cracks and yellowed varnish. He had used student-grade oils and a canvas that was more […]
I remember sitting in the back of a crowded, stuffy studio in the late nineties, listening to a young painter explain how his “spiritual energy” dictated where he placed his focal points. It was nonsense, of course. He had all the passion in the world, but his canvas was a chaotic mess that no serious […]
I remember standing in the corner of a drafty, repurposed warehouse during a London graduate exhibition in the late nineties, nursing a lukewarm glass of cheap Prosecco and watching a collector squint at a series of charcoal drawings. He wasn’t looking at the technique; he was looking for a sign—some sort of institutional stamp of […]
I remember walking into a young painter’s studio back in the late nineties—oil on canvas, 120cm x 150cm, 1998—and being hit by a smell so thick and chemical I nearly turned back toward the street. He was sitting there, eyes watering, working in a room with the windows shut tight because he thought “artistic temperament” […]