Last week the Affordable Art Fair was back in Hampstead, and a few people asked me if I was going. I wasn’t. I always try to explain that the art sold there is a bit too ‘gimmicky’ for me, and when I see people’s confused looks, I then add that Affordable Art Fair is great if you want to find a nice-looking piece that fits your new sofa, but that if you want to find an artwork that has a little more depth you are much better off going to Photo London, which is on in the same week. ‘Or you can just ask me,’ I think, but I don’t say, because I am not that good at promoting myself. But yeah - you can just ask me.
A friend of mine once described buying at the Affordable Art Fairs – and for that matter at all the shiny galleries with gold-coloured shopfronts that always have some kind of Banksy/Mickey Mouse/ pink-neon combination in the window – as similar to buying a designer handbag. I’m not that into designer handbags, so I personally like to compare it to the categories used in the book industry: ‘commercial’ and ‘literary’. Commercial fiction is the kind that you read on a beach or in the train – high on plot but low on themes; in other words the kind of book you read when you want to switch off. The same counts for a ‘commercial’ artwork – something to look at when you’re stretched out on the sofa after a busy day. Literary fiction, on the other hand, is the kind that makes you stop and wonder, the kind that you relish long after you have finished it. Who knows, you may even make notes in the margin. In other words, literary fiction is the kind that makes you switch on. And so does an artwork that isn’t just well made, but that delves deeper into some aspect of what it means to be alive.
Jeppe Hein’s All I Need is Less, 2019, seen at Frieze London 2019
Another question I often get asked is ‘Are you a collector?’ to which I always answer that my definition of a collector is someone who owns more artworks than can possibly fit on their walls, and so: yes. There are a few very good artworks lying in waiting in my drawer/ store room, still unframed. What I could also tell you, if you have time, is that a collector buys artworks first and foremost for what they are, and not for where they will go in the house. I could explain that a collector does research into the artists they buy; and that often their collection as a whole has a certain theme or focus. I don’t mention that a collector often operates alone, as it sounds a little predatory and pretentious, and yet I strongly believe it – there is almost nothing more personal than liking or disliking a work of art. And admit it, art collectors are a little predatory and pretentious (but also very, very important).
Vanessa da Silva, FLAG#1, 2017-21 and partly shown: Emma Cousin, Mimesis, 2020
Much more interesting than the definition of a ‘collector’ – which in the end you could argue is as vague and oblique as the definition of an ‘artist’ (“Everyone is an artist,” according to Joseph Beuys) – is the question of what kind of art to collect. I have always been fascinated by the numerous passions and motives of different collectors. Italian collector Valeria Napoleone collects only female (identifying) artists, driven by her passion to promote one half of the population structurally ignored by the art world. The Zabludowicz Collection, showing their collection and other artworks in a beautiful converted chapel in Kentish Town, focuses on art that is make of digital media or engages with the digital world. Andreas Siegfried of Siegfried Contemporary opens up his Notting Hill home as a gallery space; he has a soft spot for artworks that deal with life and death and the cycles of nature (pre-register for my tour to view Siegfried’s collection on 22nd June here).
So what drives me, as a starting collector? Living with the same artworks for a length of time, I hunker after the stories they contain. I recently acquired a large flag by Brazilian artist Vanessa da Silva, who is based in London. The work is magical: sown by hand and incorporating both the English flag and that of a former colony, Kiribati – a subtle nod to a better world where we one country doesn’t dominate another, where everything is in flow. But what I treasure almost as much is Vanessa sitting on the sofa by our window, her curly hair as playful as her art, lit up by the early evening sun and helping me decide how to install the work. Or Vanessa in her studio when I picked up the work, watching her meticulously iron the flag, square by square, on her large studio table.
Sophie Clements, On Letting Things Be (An Exercise), 2020
Or take Sophie Clements, from whom I acquired five small prints, stills from her performance film On Letting Things Be (An Exercise). She personally came on her bike to meet me in the centre of London to hand over the work. A touch of her sporty appearance and her can-do attitude started to seep into the seemingly delicate and poetic prints. I recently attended a night at Iklectik Artlab where Sophie screened four short films, and I started to understand her quest for those hard-to-find epiphanies, those moments in life when things are just right and you are lucky enough to get a glimpse of pure beauty.
Maybe, then, I am a collector of moments. In fact, most of our modest art collection has some reference to the performative realm. William Mackrell lighting a thousand tea candles, Carali McCall drawing a circle the length of her arm for more than 3 hrs. Anna Perach’s tufted Spidora sculpture worn by dancers performing spidery moves, Liane Lang’s hyper-real and witty feminist doll, photographed interacting with cold stone statues. There is something vulnerable, something honest in those moments that moves me immensely.
Carali Mc Call, Circle Drawing, 4 hours 15 minutes, 2019
But what about you? What would you buy if you had the right budget (and trust me, there are great artworks starting from only a few hundred pounds)? Do you go weak in the knees at the smell of oil paint? Do you like art that takes you away to a place of contemplation, or art that engages you with difficult topics? Do you want to hunt graduates’ fairs in search for the next big thing, or are you like my husband, whose dream it is to own one monumental work by an established artist, something that radiates grandeur and reduces the rest of your interior to a mere side-show? (An Andreas Gursky photograph, should you be interested).
Go and visit some galleries with me. Come to my next collection visit and hear an expert talk about what drives them in collecting art. Because all collectors, however quirky or haughty or obsessed they may appear, have one thing in common. We all have a lifelong passion for art. It’s the thing that makes our heart beat faster and sets our mind on fire. It’s the thing that we think about on the tube and when we lie awake at night.
So next time you are thinking about what artwork to buy, or where to look for it, you know what to do.
Just ask me.
Contact me for art consultancy services on sabine@sabinecasparie.com
Booking for my collection Tour of Siegfried Contemporary, Thursday 22nd June, 6-7.30pm will open next week - email to follow.