week 5

"It's beginning to feel a lot like Christmas". My Christmas playlist has been dusted off and is improving the lives of the Masterpiece staff via Spotify. Yet it all seems too early. It is cold enough but somehow I want Christmas to begin nearer the actual day.

The parties this far out, tend to have a corporate, networking feel. More like good sense and less like a riotous rout. Last week was the SLAD (Society of London Art dealers) lunchtime Christmas drinks party. The board members all had badges to wear. We drank and ate snacks and chatted about eating and drinking at other places. No one wants to talk about business. SLAD is art whilst the BADA (British Antique Dealers Association) Christmas drinks last week at Mallett was all about furniture and there was of course LAPADA's Christmas party too (London and Provincial Art and Antiques Association). LAPADA and BADA both have London fairs, and they both have an individual identity and demographic. SLAD has a slight advantage in that the top dealers do all become members and the organisation adds great value to the market and lobbying clout. Nonetheless it would be nice to see these three associations as one.

A true micro party was had by Nicola and myself with Katherine and Geoffrey from Wartski. The lunch was at Sumosan in Albemarle Street. They have a fantastic lunch menu, which can be nuanced endlessly. But spicy fish soup followed by a delicate plate of sashimi, including yellowtail. Then yakitori tuna with rice, pickles and vegetable tempura. Washed down with warm Sake. Geoffrey and Katherine are full of stories and anecdotes but at the same time they are making plans and developing ideas. We love them because they seem to enjoy their work and their lives. It is very inspiring to be around.

A visit to Hatfields to see my elephant was squeezed in. The workshops, that I set up in my Mallett days, are in Clapham and inhabit a beautiful Georgian ex school in the high street. The office is run by Anna who despite her flowing blonde hair and generous smile runs the workshops with a rod of iron. Ten grumpy old men cow tow obediently to her relentless fairness. The ultimate employment weapon. Anybody can bear a grudge but it is very hard when wherever you look you see fairness. Her side kick is known as the Princess of Nebraska in respect of her origin and noble bearing. Anna loves to tidy. And the office is being given its annual overhaul. A bustle is going on and I am co-opted into furniture moving. Eventually I see my carved wooden model of an elephant. He is lovely and I am loath to sell, I think I will take him home for a bit.

The Mallett party was graced, as is traditional, by the leavers from this year. Mallett has always been a breeder of fine expertise and entrepreneurial spirit. Nick who has set up on his own after 15 years at Mallett and works alongside Tarquin in the Pimlico road has a sharpness of eye and eagerness that he is putting to good use now. Tess has gone to be a painter and possibly a mother in due course (she married her long term boyfriend in the summer) she is a pocket sized ball of fire. The party goes with a swing with her energy and insanity.

And the best cure for a night on the tiles? Well, food takes the place of tiredness and aspirin and caffeine soften these dehydrated and shrunk meninges that are the pain we feel in our heads. Lunch is therefore at Le Petit cafe in the cut through between Dover and Albemarle Street. Upstairs there are 6 tables and they serve pasta which is as good as anywhere in London. The sauces have good oil levels and appropriate saltiness and the pasta has softness but also a proper sense of bite. Add pasta to a glass of red wine and slip in an aspirin and a bright afternoon awaits you. The final challenge is conversation. Michael joined me; he is the Masterpiece and Mallett Finance Director. We had prepared an analysis of an aspect of sales; it was fascinating to feel the brain slowly come back to life. By the end of lunch I felt ready to go out and party again. Roll on next week.

week 4

Anyone who is reading this may get the impression that I am obsessed with food. Indeed it does take up an inordinate amount of my focus. But this week was exceptional. Christmas is here! And the season of excess has begun. In addition the draw to London this week was inexorable. It was sales week at both Christies and Sotheby's. So, many of the Masterpiece London exhibitors were in town and so was the rest of the buying world.

I began the week with a friend, Alex, who is a Spanish art consultant with a ridiculously youthful demeanour and the most uncompromisingly sticky out ears. He is, sort of, my age but he looks like he could be my son! He has just lost his job. But he is sanguine, as he has a new Russian client, so he is happy but in a dejected way.

It is Christmas (hem hem) so we had wine with our breaded escalope with broccoli frolicking in wine and spring onions. A dish I love but the last time I had it, it was an inedible confection of gristle. I double checked with the kitchen and indeed it was promised to be elegant and delicious, and so it proved to be. Having put the world to rights we asked for the bill. The waiter replied "don't worry sir, it's on the house as you had a bad time last time." Wow! I wasn't expecting that and only after mentioning a bit of grissle-great place. Cut to a few hours later when the restaurant rang me to say that they were really embarrassed but they had given the free meal to the wrong person. Me! And indeed I did have to pay-less great place.

Down to Christies to view the Riahi sale, an amazing collection of the grandest period of french furniture. Also the Harewood sale, a sort of attic clearance with a mixture of pieces, accompanied by a group of decorative lots which will be sold next week at Christie's South Kensington.

The Riahi pieces are so grand it is sort of intimidating. We talk to the Christie's team, the energetic Anna who carries her talismanic clip board and squeezes the tip of her biro with nervous intensity and Simon (pronounced French ) who once interned at Mallett. They are off duty, I am not a mega client they have to be nice to. We gossip and say indiscreet things. I leave a fantasy bid on the commode en biblioteque. A description I guess Christie's have made up. It is a form I have never seen and is ravishingly beautiful. Breathtaking. It sells in due course for around £2.5 million.

Downstairs and seemingly out of range is the Harewood kit. For me, reducing itself down to a pair of perfect Chippendale painted armchairs and a group of pieces by the British legend of gilt bronze Mathew Boulton. The cult following both is hard to define, they have a name that transcends the narrow world of decorative arts. Chippendale has been celebrated for ever, but Boulton has been 'caviar to the general' since time immortal but now he seems to have broken through. The world wants Boulton and though the pieces on offer all have condition issues they all sell when the time comes well. It is a real joy to handle these things, to feel, yes, feel where their quality lies. I am confident that the value will only increase for these fascinating expressions of an English idea of French bronze.

Back to lunch though I cannot describe every dish and each friend I met with. Lunch is a perfect blend of time pressure with hedonism. Because of the uncertain length of lunch it intensives the agenda. You cut to the chase.

So here goes. Dover sole is the gold standard of fish. On a menu it stands out as both a challenge and an opportunity. It is always über expensive and slightly intimidating. It arrived and it was a good size, not too small or big. It was a delightful brown but not obscuring the delicate white flesh. The taste was heaven; it was that miraculous mixture of the flesh being both milky and meaty. It had a perfect crunch which was buttery and salty. I asked the kitchen how they had achieved this. Apparently the pan gets very hot, salt is added and super-heated. Then butter is added but not too much, like a splash of oil, and thence fish. A few minutes each side and then rushed to the table. A minor Masterpiece. Our conversation ranges over local theatre, life drawing and the draw of novelty (both people and things ) he is a million years old but he is a life enhancer. Great company. Then the exhibition. According to the grandees the show is not intellectual. The catalogue is poor. There is no proper thematic link or chronology. However it is the most successful show at the RA in years. David, my old teacher from school, has put together an astonishing collection of treasures. There are no entrants who appear for their merit. Everything is there because it is a treasure, dare I say it, a Masterpiece, not because it is worthy. A wonderful show. I went because neighbours of ours had designed and installed the show "Stanton Williams ' we were so lucky to see the show with no one there, so to speak. Great things in a wonderful setting. It was a challenge intellectually because it was not all spelled out. We or you had to work it out, I suppose the grandees must be scratching their heads as they see a new dynamic; not dumbing down, not intellectual challenge, just fabulous things elevating the soul and the mind.

Or maybe I should say Dover sole and the mind.

week 3

I was in Avignon on Sunday night, the walled city which reeks of the medieval world. Schism popes and mercenaries, disease and short intense lives. We were wandering around looking for somewhere to eat. Occasionally distracted by a church or such like. Sunday is mainly a closed day and it is December. The few places open teem with antique dealers. For this is the ritual solstice gathering of the trade at Avignon, tomorrow there is Montpellier and yesterday (though I did not go) was Bezier.

These three fairs happen together four times a year and they are an extraordinary gathering. From across Europe they come- Italians, Germans, and Spanish Portuguese. Even down from Scandinavia. I am with one of my oldest pals. We both read English at Uni versity, back in the dark ages. His family for generations have collected and traded tirelessly in everything from ancient gold coin collectors to contemporary Chinese scroll painting. To earn money as a student he used to rent a van then drive to Brighton, buy odd bits of stripped pine and then drive back. Stopping on the way back at all the antique centres selling the stuff. At the end of the day he returned the van empty and had pockets crammed with cash. He now deals in carpets and textiles, known by his peers as " lucky mike", earning this name because he finds endless great things, but he does so because he works ten times harder than the unlucky ones!

Quaffing wine and plotting the temporary denizens of Avignon prepare for the battle to come. In the morning at 8am about 3 thousand plus are let in. Dealers and buyers alike, no stand preparation, no vetting, no comradely trading. It is chaos! Everyone runs around and there follows a frenzy of trading which steams for three hours. At 11 or so the herd stop and buy sausages and drink beer or champagne. Then they repair to, lick wounds, pack up or shoot off to some rendezvous. Gathering strength for the next battle in the morning.

From about 10am, French time, my double life starts to kick in. Emails from the office, calls from existing or potential exhibitors land on my iphone. There is a weird counterpoint between the dealers around and those from the top of the tree from Masterpiece London. Jewelry, antiquities and potential sponsors are dominating the airways as I haggle over a Japanese bronze model of a rat from around 1900. Weird but wonderfully balancing. Neither world is too dominant.

Mike has had some luck. He has found an 18th century Kelim fragment. Very, very rare apparently. So he is home and dry. The energy of the event is such that you only exist if you bought. Not spending money is failure.

Friday, Francesca my assistant and I are off to Budapest. I am helping a friend/client finish his house on the Danube. He calls it his cottage in homage to the cottages in Newport Rhode Island. He is a driven man. He stands, he does not sit. Elegantly thin with a wave of grey hair he storms through life doing deals and enjoying himself by suffusing his life with treats, wines from his own vineyards, foie gras, Hungarian truffles and delicious indigenous pork called Mangalitsa. Breakfast is a truffle infused boiled egg with slices of truffle and a solid pinch of salt. Coffee and a shot of the filthy local herbal alcohol Unicum. I join in but I don't embrace the morning booze. The Hungarian truffle is a wonder. All the aroma and flavour of an Italian white one and the robustness of a French black truffle. Yum.

Tip : put eggs in a plastic box with a truffle for a couple of days, because eggshell is porous, after that time you have a truffle flavoured egg.

Then a race to the airport via my new friend Anna. She owns and runs Gerbeaud in Budapest. Possibly the world's greatest cake shop. Certainly a rival to anything in Paris or Vienna. Traditional cakes sit beside innovation, as she pushes the barrier ever further back. Wonderful uses of pepper and spice. Very Hungarian. The race has been won. Christian stupidly fast Porsche driven eagerly by me sweeps us to the airport. Off home to recover!!!

week 2

Flying through fog to land at Heathrow from Madrid, I was dazzled by a moment's cloud break. The twinkling expanse of the city stretched out before me; the London eye, the Winter Wonderland, Hyde Park. I saw the city's landmarks and a tingle ran down my spine. I love Madrid, I adore it, but London is inexhaustible, majestic, sublime. I felt a rush I have always associated with coming home. I had been gone less than 24 hours.

My trip to Madrid was to visit Feriarte, the 36-year-old antiques fair, which I have been visiting since the '90s. It was patchy then, but there were works to buy and it was a lot of fun to visit. These days, though, there are just 80 dealers and a handful of auction houses, many selling indeterminate contemporary work. My dealer friends there are all in their 60's and 70's and nostalgia clogs the atmosphere. But business continues nonetheless; one dealer I know made a sale to the Prado, another is in mid transaction with a major sale to the Middle East and a friend who once dealt in Spanish old masters, is now buying Rolex watches and Balenciaga dresses. I too bought and sold some works.

Whilst in Madrid I rediscovered "El Puchero," a restaurant that sums up so much of what I admire of the city. The food is old fashioned but crafted with so much love and attention to detail that it comes across as very modern and almost pioneering. Artichoke hearts tossed in breadcrumbs with strings of jamon, a broth of clams and butter beans which balances salt and stock perfectly and croquettes of bacalao that were crunchy, fluffy and soft with not too much potato. Madrid may be down but it certainly is not out.

The situation in Spain made an interesting counterpoint to my travels last week, when I drove in my beaten up silver soft top Saab to Belgium to visit the Namur Fair. Travelling via the Euro tunnel with my colleagues Justin and Francesca, we had an early start. Arriving painlessly, we then roamed the aisles at Namur Fair and found a remarkable number of treasures. After our buoyant day we had supper back in the 70's; dining on meat fondue and ghastly sour red wine.

Driving to Holland the next day we visited long-time dealers Bill and Cornelia, who are ensconced in a Dutch retirement village with fabulous canal views. Their apartment teams with carefully chosen things and everything they buy, they live with and cherish. They have a partner's desk in the sitting room at which they cogitate; there are books, a magnifying glass and no television. Their time is spent lovingly examining and researching their collection. In the sitting room almost nothing is for sale, in the spare bedroom things are relegated and everything is for sale, and then in the rejects cupboard everything is for sale and very low priced. They sell in order to buy, not to live.

Buying over we headed to Brussels and dined at "Vismet". It's a robust Belgian fish eatery, with no frills but outstanding fish. Justin ordered a bone dry Alsace wine and we shared all our dishes, no one wanting to be left out of a treat. The stand out, were the Zeeland oysters, not too big, not too soft, and wonderfully salty. A synopsis of the sea.

After touching down from my travels I've had a busy week as Creative Director for Masterpiece London. Masterpiece offers dealers an exceptionally high-quality fair for exhibitors to market their wares, with an underlying vision that balances innovation and tradition. On any given day I will meet some of the most memorable characters in the antiques, art and design world. The business of dealing invites the ultimate expression of putting your money where your mouth is and the dealers enjoy keeping me on my toes.

Each dealer at Masterpiece is passionate about their subject, and this week I have had the privilege to discuss possibilities around the celebration of the tri centenary next year of the legend of English clock making Thomas Tompion. Not to mention a unique collection of Meissen figures that will be brought to the fair. And every now and then, there are some very creative ideas that land on my desk, such as an art sushi performance! The job is a mixture of filtering and searching. My challenge is to find the highest quality of newness, in all material, design and expertise. Masterpiece is not after new for the sake of new and it requires a good eye to see the wood for the trees.

week 1

Flying through fog to land at Heathrow from Madrid, I was dazzled by a moment's cloud break. The twinkling expanse of the city stretched out before me; the London eye, the Winter Wonderland, Hyde Park. I saw the city's landmarks and a tingle ran down my spine. I love Madrid, I adore it, but London is inexhaustible, majestic, sublime. I felt a rush I have always associated with coming home. I had been gone less than 24 hours.

My trip to Madrid was to visit Feriarte, the 36-year-old antiques fair, which I have been visiting since the '90s. It was patchy then, but there were works to buy and it was a lot of fun to visit. These days, though, there are just 80 dealers and a handful of auction houses, many selling indeterminate contemporary work. My dealer friends there are all in their 60's and 70's and nostalgia clogs the atmosphere. But business continues nonetheless; one dealer I know made a sale to the Prado, another is in mid transaction with a major sale to the Middle East and a friend who once dealt in Spanish old masters, is now buying Rolex watches and Balenciaga dresses. I too bought and sold some works.

Whilst in Madrid I rediscovered "El Puchero," a restaurant that sums up so much of what I admire of the city. The food is old fashioned but crafted with so much love and attention to detail that it comes across as very modern and almost pioneering. Artichoke hearts tossed in breadcrumbs with strings of jamon, a broth of clams and butter beans which balances salt and stock perfectly and croquettes of bacalao that were crunchy, fluffy and soft with not too much potato. Madrid may be down but it certainly is not out.

The situation in Spain made an interesting counterpoint to my travels last week, when I drove in my beaten up silver soft top Saab to Belgium to visit the Namur Fair. Travelling via the Euro tunnel with my colleagues Justin and Francesca, we had an early start. Arriving painlessly, we then roamed the aisles at Namur Fair and found a remarkable number of treasures. After our buoyant day we had supper back in the 70's; dining on meat fondue and ghastly sour red wine.

Driving to Holland the next day we visited long-time dealers Bill and Cornelia, who are ensconced in a Dutch retirement village with fabulous canal views. Their apartment teams with carefully chosen things and everything they buy, they live with and cherish. They have a partner's desk in the sitting room at which they cogitate; there are books, a magnifying glass and no television. Their time is spent lovingly examining and researching their collection. In the sitting room almost nothing is for sale, in the spare bedroom things are relegated and everything is for sale, and then in the rejects cupboard everything is for sale and very low priced. They sell in order to buy, not to live.

Buying over we headed to Brussels and dined at "Vismet". It's a robust Belgian fish eatery, with no frills but outstanding fish. Justin ordered a bone dry Alsace wine and we shared all our dishes, no one wanting to be left out of a treat. The stand out, were the Zeeland oysters, not too big, not too soft, and wonderfully salty. A synopsis of the sea.

After touching down from my travels I've had a busy week as Creative Director for Masterpiece London. Masterpiece offers dealers an exceptionally high-quality fair for exhibitors to market their wares, with an underlying vision that balances innovation and tradition. On any given day I will meet some of the most memorable characters in the antiques, art and design world. The business of dealing invites the ultimate expression of putting your money where your mouth is and the dealers enjoy keeping me on my toes.

Each dealer at Masterpiece is passionate about their subject, and this week I have had the privilege to discuss possibilities around the celebration of the tri centenary next year of the legend of English clock making Thomas Tompion. Not to mention a unique collection of Meissen figures that will be brought to the fair. And every now and then, there are some very creative ideas that land on my desk, such as an art sushi performance! The job is a mixture of filtering and searching. My challenge is to find the highest quality of newness, in all material, design and expertise. Masterpiece is not after new for the sake of new and it requires a good eye to see the wood for the trees.