Never to old to be loved


I picked up the ancient Roman bronze and immediately felt in close contact with a beauty 2000 years old. The past was no longer a stranger; now we were friends. I've admired many old objects and art works but never had I felt such comraderie before. It happened like this.
   The viewing at Christie's South Kensington was for its October 25th Antiquities sale. I was especially interested in the glass cases displaying rings from the Jurgen Abeler collection. The jeweller and goldsmith died in 2010 and his heirs were selling his collection of more than 500 rings. I like old rings and he had lots of them. Most of the rings had already been sold in the October 9 South Ken jewellery sale but forty ancient ones had been held back for this one. I looked at the Egyptian, Greek, Roman and Byzantine ornaments but  my eyes kept going back to the hand--the only non jewel being sold from Abeler's collection. It was blackened bronze; the sculptor had paid a lot of attention to it. The fingers of this female hand were expressive; nails and finger tips, too. The catalogue entry placed it between the 1st century B.C. and the !st c
century A.D. I asked the woman behind the counter if I could have a closer look. She reached in, took out the hand and placed it on the glass cabinet. I picked it up. The fit of the Roman hand in my own was just right. Holding this hand couldn't have felt more natural. It seemed to belong there. The estimate read £1200--£1500. It was a lot of money for me to spend on an ancient fragment; something that would sit on my desk as if it were a paperweight and soon be lost under the ever replenished sheets of paper. (The paperless revolution has yet to make its presence known in my study.)
   I hated to give up the hand and with it this never before felt direct contact with the ancient past. I wanted it.  I would go for it!
    In the days before the auction I tried to talk myself out of bidding. I am not an antiquities collector. £2000 is not small change. I had an appointment I could not change. I wouldn't be able to go to the sales room. So...I registered for on-line bidding. I'll skip over the technical problem that resulted in the auctioneer's voice getting knocked out. Christie's shifted me to telephone bidding. The action was slow--it always is when there are telephone bidders who have to be told what is happening in the salesr oom and then by the time they decide whether or not to go another round someone has beat them to it and the discussion seems to start all over again. Lot 210 finally came up. My new friend's hand. Suddenly time speeded up. The numbers jumped  and leapt up. £6000 was bid in what felt like 20 seconds. With Christie's commission and other charges, that meant £7500. I never had a chance to bid and I certainly was not going to begin now.
    Goodbye my friend.

Red faced at Frieze

What a hang over and I wasn't even drinking. Last week there was Frieze, the Regent’s Park contemporary fair launched in Regent’s Park in  2003 and now a world famous destination and not far away its new sibling--Frieze Masters showing painting, sculpture and works on paper with a pre2000 dateline. Across town, and overlapping with the Friezes, was the sixth edition of the design and art fair PAD  in leafy Berkeley Square.

 What with the contemporary art auctions, gallery openings and launches of new spaces as well as parties some nights four or five of them, art lovers are now catching up on sleep. I enjoy the memories--many of them recollections of art that moved me--Josef Koudelka's photographs above all--one of which is how hot my cheeks got when this viewer and the art on view couldn't have been more of  a mismatch.

      Frieze London (as the contemporary fair has been rebranded since May's successful launch of Frieze New York on Randall's Island) is not my natural habitat. However I went along last Saturday, chiefly to see an old friend in from Berlin. I had skipped the last few editions of the fair ("keeping up" had diminishing returns) and was surprised to find it looking more like a display of art as I know it rather than the emptied contents of a bag ladies stash. Outstanding was the booth of the Tokyo's Taka Ishii Gallery showing photographs by Yuki Kimura.  The place was as crowded as Oxford Street at Christmas; hot and airless. I got thirsty fast, Good luck, I thought, when I saw the wheeled trolley in an aisle outside a gallery. On it was a stacked of paper cups (advertising TATE.in white dots against sky blue), sugar packets and wooden sticks for stirrers. Coffee was sure to be in a spigot at the side. I picked up a cup but before I could pour a man suddenly materialized: “Do not touch the art,” he said severely. I blushed and laughed. As I was in need of refreshment rather than a concept I left that tent and headed for Frieze Masters a twenty minute walk through the park.   

 There at least one visitor was as out of synch with the art on view as I had been at Frieze London.

   The Pace Gallery stand displayed an Alexander Calder mobile. A man came up to have a look. One of the staff chatted with him, explaining that Calder was the first to invent the mobile. The fellow looked puzzled. He turned his gaze from her and stared at the phone in his hand. 

    I heard the above anecdote from a trustworthy source who heard it from someone at Pace. When I tried to confirm at the gallery, I heard only, "I don't know anything about it," Well at least my mistaking coffee cups for art is not an apocryphal tale. And I think thinking that Calder invented the mobile phone isn't one either.

  As for Frieze Masters about which I'm blogging at Prospero at economist.com tomorrow, it survived the huge publicity blitz and the theorizing which put me off when I was first subjected to it. (see previous post.) It joins TEFAF in March as a fair I won't want to miss.   

Open the champagne and turn on the desk lamp

Procrastinators and scholars have a lot to celebrate. (I do not mean to suggest that it is impossible to be both.) On October 11, the Metropolitan Museum of Art announced its latest and in my view greatest on line undertaking since Thomas P. Campbell became director two years ago. A project to make available all its publications dating from its founding in 1860 is under way. The first stage, now completed includes 650 published since 1964. Included are exhibition catalogues like the one below

and books of widespread general interest like the Guide to the Museum above. There are subjects that suddenly have a previously unsuspected fascination like this one about the Art of Medicine in Ancient Egypt. Come to think of it, it never occurred to me that such an art existed but how it easy it will be now to explore on of my many areas of ignorance. Indeed, this project is like a map to unexplored territories.



                       
    There are manuals for educators that may prove to be useful for journalists who don't want to live on a Wiki diet exclusively. This one on Korean art looks particularly inviting.
             
       
And think of the information and image packed specialist books focusing on the museum's world famous collections that now will be a click away like this one on the sculpture of Gandhara

         


Additions to titles available on line will continue to roll out including Met Bulletins and out of print books.
Thanks to Tom Campbell and to Hunt and Betsy Lawrence sponsors of this project, hundreds of hours of day dreaming and learning are ahead.