This has to be a favourite snap.
One of my favourite painters, Rose Wylie, chatting to the future King of England, with my old school chum (now somewhat disgraced) Alan Yentob.
In the days when I managed a London West End Art Gallery, I used to attend several Vernissages every week. Even though the gallery with which I was associated didn't sell modern work (other than cartoons), I was still on the lists of most major galleries as one who should come sip wine and pronounce pompous comments about the rubbish they had on view.
In the late 60's, 'Private Views' were mega celeb-fests; there were always famous faces around. But those who always attracted my attention was a group of four nuns who would regularly turn-up at the most unexpected shows. I always wanted to ask them who, what, where, and why, but I stupidly respected their privacy and left them to their wine. We were on nodding terms, but that was all.
I didn't buy modern paintings in those days (I still don't), but when I look back to some of the painters whose early shows I attended, and had I bought some of their stuff, I would now be worth almost as much as bloody Trump.
30 comments:
I wonder what is in Charlie's cup
Diluted water, I expect. The poor boy has about 20 appointments every day; to drink anything stronger would have him flat out!
Coulda shoulda woulda....never mind Cro.
I've only ever been to one private viewing - my brother's degree show at Camberwell. Does that count?
Oh there were no nuns there!
My life is full of them.
Of course that counts, but shame on them for not inviting any nuns.
To my eyes you're richer than Trump. You chose the best woman in the world, have a lovely family, live in the best place and admire perfect paintings; nature's 4 seasons. You're rich in the values of life. Greetings Maria x
I agree with Maria.... you are much richer than Trump. And you have a following of avid readers!
Whatever it is, I want some .
Now I've never been known for having a rich imagination but those four nuns: gangsters casing the art world, Vatican spies looking for the next opportunity to make a quick buck? The list is endless....almost.
But how do you know in the early stages of their maturity which ones are going to make it? And is there room in your abode for that 'unmade bed' in any case?
You know me oh so well, and, of course, you're right.
In many ways I think we're all richer than Trump.
I used to look at them with that in mind. Did they look like blokes in drag, how many glasses of cheap wine did they consume, were they wearing high heels, etc. I think they were genuine.
There were several pointers. RCA graduate, friend of Kasmin, and to a certain extent the work itself. As for the famous bed, of course I'd have it, and I'd sell it at once!
Yur best blog title to date
I do my best, John.
PV's are just a good excuse for a piss up these days.
They always were. More drunks to the square inch than at Cheltenham races.
I'll second that Cro. I used to attend lots in the 60s. All the great and the good were there then (particularly John Moores!). Little changes except the people.
PS I won't one of the great!
Why tea, of course. This is England.
I had a picture in the John Moores show; I didn't win anything.
Was it Sister Wendy and her mates?
Almost; but Chuck doesn't like to be called Sister.
Sister Wendy doesnt have any mates. She's a Carmelite and a hermit.
And not by choice!
Except for the appearance of royals and nuns, gallery openings are much the same over here. In the late 70s and early 80s, when I lived in our Soho area during its gallery era, it seemed like such events were always taking place. My friends and I often made stops at several galleries on opening nights...wonder if folks thought we were like your mysterious nuns?
Nowadays, I only go to openings when a friend might be having an exhibit, and usually just stay long enough to say hello to folks I know and have a sip of gallery wine.
That's enough. Best wishes.
I haven't been to one for years either (other than my own), and probably won't again. The wine just isn't up to scratch.
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