|
I'd love to follow Gustav and Elly's
wonderful gesture
I WALKED into the immense turbine hall at Tate Modern last
week and the words of Paul McCartney rang in my ears.
I don't mean the First Knight of Pop was there himself, because
he was busy in Moscow at that moment, playing the 3,000th
concert of his astonishing career.
What I mean is that I saw the long and winding queue for
the Edward Hopper exhibition, and I thought: ''All the lonely
people . . . where do they all come from?''
Hopper's melancholy pictures, painted in comic-book greens
and yellows, are paeans to loneliness. Solitary figures and
broken couples separated by silent gulfs stare wistfully into
the distant depths of the canvas. It isn't subtle. It isn't
ironic. But then, neither is real loneliness.
Hopper's paintings mean so much to so many people that the
only way to see them now is in a crowd. A visit to the Van
Gogh museum in Amsterdam produces the same sensations.
Vincent Van Gogh sold just a single painting in his entire
career: Anna Boch paid about 375 francs for The Red Vineyard,
which is now in Moscow's Pushkin Museum. Oddly, she didn't
buy the portrait of her brother, the artist's friend Eugene
Boch.
Perhaps she didn't think it was a good likeness, but it would
certainly have been a good investment. To see Vincent's Sunflowers
or his Starry Night now, you have to wade through swamps of
teenagers waving Vincent bags full of Vincent t-shirts and
Vincent posters and Vincent pencil-cases and Vincent fake
ears.
The revenue generated by Van Gogh merchandise in a single
day is far greater than the painter himself ever made in his
entire lifetime. Honestly, it's enough to drive a sensitive
artistic type stark staring mad.
I'm always on the lookout for what I call 'Anna Boch moments'.
Just one could make your family rich for generations. Van
Gogh's paintings, of course, now sell for even more than Premiership
footballers: in May 1990 his Portrait Of Doctor Gachet raised
$82.5 million.
Smart investors such as Charles Saatchi who spotted the new
wave of British avant garde artists in their infancy, and
snapped up early works by the likes of Tracey Emin and Damien
Hirst, now have priceless pieces in their personal collections,
the stuff of sensational Tate displays.
The sums of money that change hands for relatively unknown
artists are staggering. Saatchi in particular is not afraid
to walk into a gallery and buy everything that isn't nailed
down.
I sometimes wonder if he has ever paid £50,000 by mistake
for a doormat or a receptionist's ballpoint pen.
So I was excited to get an email from a 23-year-old painter
named Stuart Semple. He told me he was intrigued by the ornate
platters I created for Poole Pottery, and sent photographs
of some of his work, which is impressively dynamic.
We agreed on a swap - one of my plates for one of his canvases.
What he brought to my home blew my mind. Because the central
image of his masterpiece was a chihuahua dog, peering out
of a bowl with its ears flapping.
And running around my home, just as cheeky and just as comical,
is my own chihuahua called Chico.
Stuart had no idea that this little fellow was part of my
household. Now the canvas, which is nine feet square, is on
display in my entrance hall - and Chico's looking cheekier
than ever. I think he feels this painting is proof that he
really does own the place.
Stuart almost died in hospital from a severe allergic condition
several years ago, and emerged with a burning inspiration
to produce challenging art. His works sell for thousands,
though he has been known to give canvases away for nothing
- a stance that would make many young British artists choke
on their white wine.
Here's my tip for budding art collectors - look outside London.
Charles Saatchi, Nicholas Serota and the rest of the big boys
don't usually travel beyond the M25.
Stuart has been pointing out to me a few who could prove
exciting investments. When he introduced me to Pete Fowler,
a wildly imaginative Cardiff designer who has created a world
of monstrous toys, my hair stood on end.
Pete's inventions are ideally suited to TV adaptations and
merchandising: cute fluffy things like Bunniguru, evil villains
like Dr Maybe, and oddities like Boris.
I think I might have felt the same way if I'd talent-spotted
Matt Groening, perhaps a year before The Simpsons first screened.
If you have access to the internet, try Googling for 'Monsterism'
and 'Playbeast', Pete's brand-names.
The same thrill of spotting unknown talents must have spurred
on Gustav and Elly Kahnweiler. Gustav was the younger brother
of Picasso's agent, Daniel-Henry Kahnweiler, and the Cubist
masterpieces the couple collected over five decades form a
fascinating, delicate exhibition at Tate Modern.
I know, because I skipped the queue for the Hoppers and went
to marvel at the impeccable taste of the Kahnweilers instead.
My favourite piece was a cluttered Picasso which once hung
in Gustav and Elly's living-room, a study of his famous studio
on the Cote d'Azur.
There are several other Picassos, including one of his fabulous
doves and a boy with a Roman face who looks like a Pompeii
corpse come to life.
And there are the two best works by Paul Klee that I've ever
seen. I am in awe of what Gustav achieved, despite the efforts
of the Nazis to hound him to death and steal his artworks.
He fled with Elly to Britain in the mid-Thirties, and bequeathed
his collection to the country as a gesture of 'gratitude and
loyalty'.
I calculate the collection - which will be shown at the Liverpool
Tate from December 11 to May 1 - is worth well in excess of
£100 million. That's some gratitude, and some loyalty.
I too have chosen to make my home in Britain, though I'm
fortunate that in my case it is because I love England, rather
than fearing my homeland. I should love to make the same gesture
that has immortalised Gustav and Elly, and leave my priceless
artworks to the nation.
I like the sound of the Geller Gallery at the Tate. And I
like the sound of 'well in excess of £100 million' even
better.
Email
him at uri@urigeller.com
|
Engage
Uri Geller - Maximise your potential, the world's leading motivational
speaker
