Sale-rooms
Exit, pursued by a table
Alistair McAlpine
The year ahead does not look very promising for the art trade, but then it is one of the characteristics of that trade to find success where others see only a tea- chest full of old rubbish. That is why deal- ers do not go off and become merchant bankers or hotel doormen when times are hard, They struggle on, always hoping to discover the unexpected.
If the name of any object is considered to be synonymous with rarity, it must surely be the Penny Black stamp. As a child, I and, I suppose, many other children would sift through packets of mixed stamps, always searching for a Penny Black. Now I know more about these things, it is some- what of a surprise that I did not find one, for there were 72 million of them printed. Most are, in fact, worth very little. But last year one was sold for the record price of £1.3 million. It fetched this enormous price not because it was a thing of particular beauty but by an accident of fate: the post- mark on it was dated prior to the official issue of the stamp itself, a fact that may for many years have gone unnoticed. Thus the value of having a sharp pair of eyes and knowing when the Penny Black was first issued is approximately £1,299,950.
As the market in paintings and sculpture stumbles along, sometimes spectacular, sometimes breathtakingly awful, it becomes clear that if there is someone out there who wants a particular lot, the money can be found to buy it. I suppose I can under- stand why at the end of 1989 the car num- ber plate 'Al' fetched £160,000. It was after all the first British number plate, and motoring has changed our lives. I suppose I can also come to terms with Mr Bowie, the
'1 now pronounce you man and wife. You may argue with the bride.' managing director of a Manchester finance company, paying £8,800 for the plate 'BOWIE'. He may have been bidding against a group of David Bowie fans. But why on earth would a private buyer pay £39,600 for the plate '1131-19? And who for heaven's sake was the underbidder? Well, in the buying of car number plates, as in the buying of Penny Blacks, there is a secret. It seems that plates with the number 1 in them fetch substantially more money.
At Christie's, New York, in March there is a sale of Japanese swords and their fit- tings. In the world of collecting you do not get more traditional than that. You will not find the collectors of these very beautiful objects popping out and buying car number plates or Madonna's corset. These are men who sit and look for hours on end at the objects that they will try to buy, studying them with the utmost care. The collecting of these swords is a serious matter. One lot, a blade by Kunitoki made in 1330, is quite beautiful. The design of the blades in Japanese swords has not changed since that date.
The auction houses do not conduct sales in the weeks after Christmas. Instead, Sotheby's have an exhibition of Lawrence Whistler's glass and Bonhams have an exhi- bition of furniture and objects designed in the Nineties. There are on display about a thousand exhibits by 120 designers. This is a formidable offering. All of the exhibits are for sale. For me, however, there seems to be a surplus of effort and a paucity of talent. I met one of the exhibitors, Mr David Field, the designer of the table where prime ministers and presidents sat when they attended the G7 meeting in London. He showed me his miraculous expanding table and told me of a 140 foot long table he had just made. He referred to it as the Prime Minister's table.
'Where does he keep it?' I asked.
'It follows him around wherever he has a meeting — Holyrood House, Carlton House.... '
Oh dear, I thought. Surely poor Mr Major has enough problems without being followed around by a 140 foot table.
I had read of a furniture designer called Alvis Vega who was reported as saying to a journalist, 'I cannot offer you a drink, I do not have a fridge. Tea is out, I do not have a kettle.' Mr Vega designs furniture light years in advance of Bonham's offerings, furniture not readily accepted by those who would dip a toe in the waters of modern design. I called Mr Vega and asked him about the exhibition. 'I don't like it,' he said. I did not expect him to. I suggested that his work might not be everyone's cup of tea. It's very heavy for a start. You can- not move the chairs around without the help of strong men.
'I am only interested in designing objects that conform to my notion of beauty and if you do not mind, that is what I would like to get on with.' Alvis Vega is strange and awkward but at least he has a point of view.
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