William Gear in Paris
There is something magical about a gallery opening, a vernissage, in Paris. The left bank and the heart of Saint Germain hosts the finest shows of the greatest names in art and to walk the streets and ogle at gallery after gallery and marvel at the art contained behind the windows is to understand that life is just that little bit better in the cobbled streets that house such fine taste. Ok, I’m biased, I love this part of Paris, and it always feels like walking in a museum. The quality on show is always second to none. Especially for the art that I love, École de Paris, which contained so many of the 20th century giants, such as Picasso, Brancusi, and Mondrian just as starters. And then the avant-garde stepped up including the great abstract gallerist, Denise Rene, who was a titan of the alternative art world that blew up through the 50’s and 60’s, showing so many of the abstract and op and kinetic artists that I truly adore. Vasarely, Le Parc, Arp, Morellet, Agam and Soto. And it’s not just me, so many British artists went to Paris and were influenced by the Parisian artists and galleries, including, Hepworth, Moore and Nicholson. The film The Rebel, starring Tony Hancock, features a struggling artist going to Paris and becoming an enfant terrible of the art world. It was a swipe at what made an artist famous but at the same time it understood that Paris during the 50’s and 60’s was the alternative hub to the American art world with its Abstract Expressionist and Pop Artists, (which some might say was created by British pop artists, but that’s another thought and another story and not for today.)
Such thoughts take me back to a night in 1988. Paris with my father. We had always had a tempestuous relationship. But after my mother died from a return of cancer in 1986, we were thrown together as the only relationship left possible in our triumvirate. I loved visiting Paris to buy art and antiques for my stall in Antiquarius in the King’s Road. And this time I had decided to invite dad, or he had the idea of coming along, I really can’t remember, but there we were staying in Saint Germain. We had settled into our hotel and then went out for an evening stroll around the area.
The galleries around us were showing work that was worthy of hanging in museums. From the modern masters to current stars of the art scene. This was awe-inspiring. We headed up towards the Luxembourg Gardens where antiquarian bookshops proliferated, beautifully lit display windows, so the passer-by could see wonderful bound books and etchings from special editions. Then we both saw an etching in one of the shops. It was a portrait of Andre Gide, the French author, by the artist Tsuguharu Foujita. We could see the price written on the corner of the print in pencil, 1200FF, about £110. We were both certain it was worth much more than that. The shop was naturally shut but we vowed to return during the day and see what we could get it for. When travelling with a purpose of buying, one likes to get off the mark with a decent purchase early. Knowing you have started covering your costs of the trip, and this looked like a prime candidate. We would return. We headed back to our hotel on the corner of Boulevard Saint Michel and Boulevard Saint-Germain. We had started our bonding exercise, and it was not altogether unpleasant. We said goodnight and off we went to bed.
Monday morning, we made a beeline for the bookshop and found it closed, which I now know is often the day when museums, galleries and many shops stay shut. So, we mooched around for a bit and wandered the streets of Paris, which is no great hardship, but with an old father it was a very slow amble. But there is always something to see and when tired, just stop at a café, take a coffee, and watch the Parisian art world do its thing. The finest is La Palette, deep in the heart of Saint Germain. It’s perfect viewing as dealers march up and down the streets with pictures under their arms and collectors drop into galleries. It’s a hustle and bustle the like of which I never witnessed in any other city. Call me biased… but I am! (I would later rent a flat from a friend of mine and would spend an extraordinary amount of time in Paris.)
Come the evening on our perambulation around the streets of Saint Germain, there is always a palpable excitement to follow in the footsteps of the greatest artists on earth who have traversed the same cobbled paths. We walked down Rue de Seine, and then left into Rue des Beaux-Arts and then right into Rue Bonaparte. All had been quiet up until now but over the road there was a hubbub coming from one of the galleries. Being a Monday evening, it was a strange night for an art show to open, but whatever the night, there is a magic to a gallery opening in Paris. We moved towards it and thought we could blag our way in and get a free drink. (For a lot of people, this is the purpose of an opening…) As we approached the doorway, there was a cry of, “Mervyn, what are you doing here?” It was the artist William Gear, who was showing here at Galerie 1900/2000. And then I heard a cry of, “Ceri?” It was a dealer friend of mine, Michael Playford, one of the best dealers in the decorative arts back in London. Didn’t seem like we would need to blag entry! Dad introduced me to Bill, who was berating him for not having been in touch in years and they rolled back time together and chatted for ages. I caught up with Michael who told me that the gallery owner, Marcel Fleiss, was a close friend and business colleague of his. The show focussed on work of Gear’s from 1946-49, when he was loosely associated with the Cobra movement. The show was stunning, and I remember thinking that Gear really deserved a retrospective at the Tate or similar. He has had some wonderful shows, but I think he deserves so much more. And to this date, the Tate has still not honoured him.
L-R: Mervyn Levy, me, William Gear and Michael Playford
The evening wore on and we were invited for dinner with the gallery owner, Bill and my friend, Michael. I have had so many wonderful evenings in Paris, but that evening cemented so much for me. I began to understand the power of art and Paris combined and the city has been my spiritual home ever since. That evening also began the healing my relationship with dad. If I had chosen to show him something of the world I loved, then he had shown me that he was a man who was already a part of it, as proven by our encounter with William Gear. And from then on, my relationship changed with my father. That is the power of Paris.
We would spend the rest of the week travelling around Paris and we did indeed buy the Foujita print of Gide and made a very tidy profit indeed. It would be the first of many deals we would complete together.
I was sure that there were some photos of that night, and I found that Michael Playford had three. It was magical to see them. Nowadays, we take photos constantly and we forget that feeling of finding an old, printed image on photographic paper. They feel so much more historic and now I can share them with you. Meet some of my past.
This visit to Paris and the surprise evening with William Gear and his art played a major part in the beginning of the reparation of my relationship with my father thanks to art and Paris. The succour both can give, united us on that trip and every visit I make to Paris still fills me with hope, wonder and joy. And as for William Gear, his work excites me to this day and a little bit of that evening stays with me whenever I look at his work.
A bientot, Paris!
