Rebecca Hossack Art Gallery

Championing Non-Western artistic traditions whilst also exhibiting across the broad spectrum of Western Contemporary Art.

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Rebecca Hossack with Rebecca Hossack Art Gallery bag in Palm Springs!

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Rebecca Hossack Art Gallery bag at Ganghwa Island, South Korea.

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Kangaroo with a burgundy Rebecca Hossack Art Gallery bag in New South Wales, Australia

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The burgundy bag at Joshua Tree 

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New colours for 2018, as the gallery bag reaches Indian Canyons, California

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The gallery bag arrives in Nairobi #rebeccahossackart #wholetthebagsout 

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January 2016: Looking at - and eating - animals

Yorkshire, Cumbria, London, New York

“...to suppose that animals first entered the human imagination as meat or leather or hair is to project a 19th century attitude backwards across the millennia. Animals first entered the imagination as messengers and promises. For example, the domestication of cattle did not begin as a simple prospect of milk and meat. Cattle had magical functions, sometimes oracular, sometimes sacrificial. And the choice of a given species as magical, tameable and alimentary was originally determined by their habits; proximity and ‘invitation’ of the animal in question.” 

                                                                     John Berger,  Why Look at Animals

Alasdair Wallace, Haunted Kettle, 2012, acrylic on board, 34 x 34 cm, London

A few years ago, John Berger - a great, sparkling, rare and individual man - and author of Ways of Seeing, came to the gallery to open an exhibition of paintings by Bihari women. At dinner afterwards, we talked about ways of seeing, and, in particular, ways of looking at animals - and animals looking at us. 

For some reason this month, I have been thinking a lot about John Berger’s essay. How seldom I look at animals.

In part, this is because I did start the year looking at rather a lot of animals; on New Year’s Day, I was woken by waves of animal noises, as horses and hounds swept up the drive. The hounds flowed and ebbed, yapped and bayed, and were so full of vital life force, seething around their masters’ feet like kelp flowing in a tidal rock pool.

Hunting hounds, Yorkshire

Alasdair Wallace, Big Black Dog, 2013, acrylic on board, 122 x 135 cm

Every time I see a hunt, I am reminded of the young hunt saboteurs who visited the gallery one Saturday to marvel at the holistic nature of Aboriginal culture - or as much as they could glean of it from looking at the Aboriginal paintings on the wall. I asked them what they were doing for the weekend and they said they were off to sabotage a hunt. 

In answer to my question “why”, they said they could not stomach killing helpless animals. When I pointed out that all the paintings they had been looking at involved the tracking, hunting and killing of animals, they were disbelieving; aboriginal life was perfect in their eyes and the life of an English hunter was evil. Although I believe the two have much in common, we were unable to reach an agreement, but we had a great afternoon discussing it. 

Oddly, I have found great similarities with huntsmen in Britain and Aboriginal people. Although the former hunt for sport and the latter for food, both have the same deep knowledge of the country and respect for its animals.

Nature, red in tooth and claw

Iluwanti Ken, Untitled, 2015, synthetic polymer paint on linen, 150 x 120 cm, London

John Berger says that “the marginalisation of animals is today being followed by the marginalisation and disposal of the only class who throughout history has remained familiar with and maintained the wisdom which accompanies that familiarity : the middle and small peasant.”

Cumbria

A few days after the glorious sight of the hunt on New Year’s Day, I crossed the Pennines to Cumbria, and there I looked at sheep. 

I have never seen sheep as pretty as this flock in Kentmere. 

Rainbows are a good omen. Are rainbow sheep even more auspicious?

Rainbow sheep, Kentmere

Perhaps my January obsession with animals is to do with the fact that I have grown very attached to my Christmas dress, which is decorated with black and white friesian cows - subliminally they are affecting me.

Rebecca Hossack in her cow dress, London

London

I was quoted in Private Eye once - in Pseuds Corner - for saying “Poetry is going to save us.” They even did a cartoon picture of me at the poetry exhibition we were having at the gallery. I only meant this as a reaction to increasing consumerism. 

Rebecca Hossack in Private Eye, London

So, walking into the Festival Hall on a cold January Sunday evening, I felt somewhat vindicated to see over 2000 people packed into the hall for the T S Eliot Prize for Poetry reading. 

There were ten finalist poets, and each - when reading their work - included poems about an animal. We had whales and octopi, all manner of birds, rabbits, and three poems to dead dogs; elegies to pets; and animal similes filled the hall. Pets and animals were on every poet’s agenda.

Les Murray, the great Australian poet who grew up on a dairy farm, was the only poet who seemed to really look at animals, and not animals as pets.

“In the United States it is estimated that there are at least 40 million dogs, 40 million cats, 15 million caged birds and 10 million other pets. [This was in 1977, so the figures will be greater now]. In the past, families of all classes kept domestic animals because they served a useful purpose - guard dogs, hunting dogs, mice-killing cats, and so on. The practice of keeping animals, regardless of their usefulness, the keeping, exactly, of pets, is a modern innovation, and on the social scale on which it exists today, is unique. It is part of that universal but personal withdrawal into the private, small family unit decorated or furnished with mementos from the outside world, which is such a distinguishing feature of consumer societies.”

             John Berger, Looking at Animals

Ross Bonfanti, The Pack, 2015, concrete, steel and toy parts, London

Echidna in the window of Conway Street, Rebecca Hossack Art Gallery, London

New York

I am still superstitious about seeing a flat-faced dog - a pug, a bulldog, a Boston terrier, a French bulldog - on the day an art fair opens, and indeed - on each successive day.

I was delighted to find that the pet ‘du jour’ in New York for 2016 is a French bulldog. They were on every street. I had high hopes for the Outsider Art Fair.

Trudy Inkamala, an Aboriginal artist I had met in the summer, and her friends, had made soft sculptures - out of old sacks and blankets.

It was her first international showing and the work seemed to bring the desert light with it to a wintry New York.

Roxanne Petrick, Rooster, 2015, soft sculpture, 41 x 41 x 12 cm, New York

Rebecca Hossack Art Gallery installation, Outsider Art Fair 2016, New York

One of my favourite dealers at the fair had an early Haitian oil drum sculpture. I love cross-cultural similarities - that deny age, race, sex - but which celebrate an essential creativity at the heart of humanity, and I took my Aboriginal sculptures to visit their Haitian counterparts.

They had a lot of time to visit, because on Saturday afternoon the Mayor of New York shut down the city because of the blizzard.

Haitian oil drum sculpture and Trudy Inkamala, Bird, 2015, soft sculpture 55 x 25 x 14 cm, Outsider Art Fair 2016, New York

Walking home in the snow on Saturday night - right down the centre of 7th Avenue (as all the cars had been banned), I felt like this.

Rebecca Hossack walking down 7th Avenue in the blizzard, New York

People in New York talk of New York as though it is a person - a family member - a big figure in their life. They say ‘New York is this’ or ‘New York is that’ - ‘is getting cold, looking tired, feeling buzzy...’

I know of no other city which people talk of in such familial terms. This time they were all worried for New York - like he was going to have a stroke.

On the Friday evening as the blizzard set in, Nancy Josephson, self-taught artist and Haitian Vodou priestess, made cookies and cocoa for the opening of her exhibition at my Mott Street gallery.

Rebecca Hossack and Nancy Josephson open Outside or In, Rebecca Hossack Art Gallery, 262 Mott Street, New York

Animals looking at animals

Nancy Josephson, Go Fish, 2014, mixed media including taxidermy form, vintage and contemporary glass beads, and goldfish, 91 x 25 x 20 cm, New York

I didn't really look at any animals in New York, except trying to catch the eye of  a French bulldog on the way to the fair each morning. But I was still thinking about them.

Flat-faced dog, New York

Jill Hamilton sent me an extract from a Chatham House Report - Changing Climate, Changing Diets - Pathway to Lower Meat Consumption. It was odd that Jill did this, but we have a weird sort of synergy - I will plan to call her and she will walk in the door at that exact moment - that sort of thing. And then I remembered that Jill had also been at the dinner with John Berger. Why are we all thinking about John Berger?

“Our appetite for meat is a major driver of climate change. Reducing global meat consumption will be critical to keeping global warming below the danger level of two degree celsius. The livestock sector accounts for 15% of global emissions, equivalent to exhaust emissions from ALL the vehicles in the world. 

A shift to healthier patterns of meat-eating could bring a quarter of the emission reductions we need to keep on track for a two-degree world. In industrialised countries, the average person is already eating twice as much meat as is deemed healthy by experts.”

London

Of course, BA were a million hours late getting me back to London, (well it really felt like that), and was made worse by the fact that on the morning of my return this week, I had to give a lecture on Aboriginal art for NADFAS in Benenden.

I saw no animals from the train on my way back from the lecture, so I couldn’t look at them. There absence seemed to give lie to the fact that:

“Right now, about 26% of the Earth’s ice-free surface is used for grazing animals for meat. A huge amount of arable farmland is also used to produce animal feed. Meat production is horribly inefficient: on average, animal protein production in the US requires 28 calories of feed for every calorie of meat produced for human consumption....we eat 40% of the Earth’s surface with up to 20 billion square miles devoted to food production.”

                                                                                     The Week, January 2016

The sculptor Iain Nutting does look at animals - intently and with a huge understanding in the ancient sense of their otherness, their specialness, their magicality.

Iain and I discussed plans for his forthcoming exhibition at the gallery. He is a great conservationist and he has given up eating meat, which I think I will too.

Iain Nutting looking at animals, London

Rose Baring has asked my help in making a pair of tapestry slippers. I came from a long line of embroiderers.

Three generations of embroiderers: Rebecca Hossack with her mother and grandmother, Melbourne, 1972

We met with Barnaby Rogerson at the Travellers club for breakfast before taking her finished slippers to Mr Cleverely in the Royal Arcade.

Rose and Barnaby own Eland books, the wonderful travel book publishers and they told me that that night they were screening a 1925 silent movie called Grass, about the annual migration from Angora (modern day Ankara) to the Bakhtiari lands of Iran - 50,000 people with 500,000 cattle and goats swim across icy rivers and climb the highest the snow-covered Zagros mountains of Southern Persia, to meet their Summer pastures. 

This film, considered to be the earliest ethnographic documentation, was riveting. The relationship between man and animals was in perfect harmony.

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On the last day of the year, I ran in to Whitby along the beach. I always like to go and say hello to the statue of Capt. James Cook which stands on the cliff top looking out to sea. 

As the sun set and the year ended and I jogged along I remembered 2015. My working year began in Singapore in early January, and, 25 art fairs, 19 exhibitions and 12 external projects later, it ended in a storm-tossed Miami in mid December.

JANUARY: LOOKING BACK AT A YEAR AT RHG

Rome, Singapore, London

Rebecca Hossack, Borghese Gardens, Rome

What was the person thinking when they carved a hedgehog looking at the sun? 

On New Years day in Rome, I found it. Each day I went back to see it again, and if the gate to the courtyard was not locked I could sneak in and study it. What does it mean? 

Hedgehog on a marble sarcophagus, Rome

Singapore

It is very strange doing so many international art fairs. I am not sure how my body copes with the dramatic changes in temperature, often on a weekly basis.

At Art Stage Singapore I sweltered in 100 degrees or froze under the blasts of air conditioning.

Rebecca Hossack Art Gallery installation, Art Stage Singapore, 2015

New York

The following week, dressed like Nanook of the North, I was in New York, tramping through streets that looked like Antarctica on my way to the brilliant Outsider Art Fair in Chelsea.

Rebecca Hossack Art Gallery installation, Outsider Art Fair New York, 2015

London

Back in London, at my gallery on Charlotte Street, the artist Thomas Allen was creating his own micro climate by turning the entire gallery into a dark cave, whilst he himself became a cave man and lived inside frescoing the walls.

Thomas Allen in his cave, Rebecca Hossack Art Gallery, London

FEBRUARY 

London

I met Alvin and Ian seventeen years ago, when they bought a print by Abie Jangala. They are great collectors of Aboriginal art. On Valentine’s day, they celebrated their marriage with a wonderful dinner for 50 in the gallery.

Love heart painted in the window of Rebecca Hossack Art Gallery, London

The London Fire Brigade chose that evening to check a suspected gas leak. We invited the firemen to the party. Alvin was sure I had planned the whole thing, as we sang YMCA.

Alvin, Ian and the London Metropolitan Fire Brigade, Rebecca Hossack Art Gallery, London

At Charlotte Street, Thomas Allen finished his extraordinary modern cave- painting installation.

I decided I wanted to learn Chinese.

My friend Patricia Trijbits launched her pancake business in a pop-up space by the canal in Hackney. 

And – after 25 years of trading - my friend Trevor Pickett moved from Burlington Arcade to Vigo Street. 

Rebecca Hossack and Trevor Pickett, London

 I gave him a lucky cat for his window.

Lucky cat in the window of Pickett, Vigo Street, London

I am obsessed with lucky cats.

Every year, the Sami herd reindeer in Jokkmokk in the arctic circle. They taught me how to eat a bear. You have to eat it through a brass ring or the power of the bear will make you explode from the inside. I was reminded of this meal when I saw this sign on Charlotte Street.

MARCH 

London, New York, Hong Kong, London, Paris

On the first weekend of March,  my trainer Tom reminded me I had promised to run the Berkhamsted half marathon with him. Of course I had not remembered this and had done no training, but I caught the train to Berkhamsted and ran the half marathon. I was second last, and they were dismantling the finishing line as I crossed it. 

This did not happen to me during the Berkhamsted half marathon....

New York

On to New York, and it was still looking like Antarctica when I returned for Scope Fair and Art on Paper. 

I stayed with Neil and Jayne, who are two genius scientists. They are in my pantheon of heroes. Jayne ( with help from Bill and Melinda Gates) has cloned a cow to cure sleeping sickness. I love being with them. Every night they have parties on their roof terrace, no matter what the weather.

The view from Neil and Jayne’s roof, New York

This time everyone had to make their own pizza. I have only cooked two meals in my life, - and this pizza was the second one. 

The second meal ever made by Rebecca Hossack in her life

Neil and Jayne live on the Lower East Side in Manhattan. Every morning I was greeted by strange sights outside their front door.

Outside Neil and Jayne’s apartment 1, New York

Outside Neil and Jayne’s apartment 2, New York

and some people look like the art I sell...

Ross Bonfanti, Punk Pony, concrete, steel and toy parts, New York

Ross Bonfanti, Endangered Species, concrete, steel and toy parts, New York

Ross Bonfanti, Night Owl, concrete, steel and toy parts, New York

Even dogs looked like the art.

Holly Frean, 50 dogs, oil and ink on khadi paper, New York

On the last day of the fairs one of my clients gave me this card. I use it as a screensaver. 

Hong Kong

A week later I flew to Hong Kong for Art Central. 

I stayed in a beautiful apartment overlooking the harbour, owned by my friend Yo-Hann Tan. Every morning standing on the balcony I watched the harbour disappear in the mist.

The invisible view at Yo-Hann Tan’s flat, Hong Kong

 Phil Shaw’s homage to Mondrian, For Piet’s Sake II, eight colour pigment based archival print on Hahnemuhle paper

It was so weird watching the skyscrapers fade into oblivion – as though it was all a dream. 

A large new ‘Fiction’ work by Phil Shaw, which we exhibited at the fair, was featured on the front page of the South China Morning Post. 

Phil Shaw’s Big Fiction on the front of the South China Morning Post, Hong Kong

Rebecca Hossack Art Gallery installation, Art Central Hong Kong, 2015

Before I left Hong Kong, I hung all the paintings that my host had bought for his flat, but had not got round to hanging. The apartment looked amazing. 

Jesse Change and I studied law together at the Australian National University. Jesse was the first Asian student allowed into Australia at the end of the ‘White Australia’ policy. He now runs of the largest law firms in Asia. It was amazing to catch up with him again in Hong Kong. He has still not grown any taller.

Rebecca Hossack and Jesse Chang, Hong Kong

It is exhausting doing so many art fairs, but this time we flew Bob, our favourite installer, over from Singapore, to help. Georgia, Sarah and I had all brought presents for Bob’s baby daughter. She is in Indonesia and he has yet to meet her, but he showed us videos and tells us she is super clever.

Rebecca Hossack, Bob and the gallery team, Hong Kong

Paris

What has happened to the famously rude Parisians? I arrived at Gare du Nord and the woman at the cambio wished me a happy stay; the waiter at The Brasserie du Nord (my favourite restaurant in Paris) was beaming as helped me with my luggage. Everyone is being so nice. It is as though they have been sprinkled with magic dust. 

They continued being so nice for my whole week in Paris whilst working at Art Paris in the Grand Palais. Arnaud and Sophie Blachet, my friends who have a gallery in Miami, had given me their apartment and their driver. So it was all pretty magical. 

The Tricolore looking up from the exhibition floor, Art Paris, 2015

Light installations, Grand Palais, Art Paris, 2015

Aboriginal canvases from Papunya, Western Desert, Australia, Rebecca Hossack Art Gallery, Art Paris, 2015

Phil Shaw, Toby Burrows and Iain Nutting, Rebecca Hossack Art Gallery, Art Paris, 2015

Andy Dixon’s Red Dinner and Abundance, acrylic and oil pastel on canvas, Rebecca Hossack Art Gallery, Art Paris, 2015

Frankie Cherry, Paris, 2015

APRIL 

Naples, London, Singapore, London, San Francisco

I was transfixed (figuratively speaking) by the flying phalluses in the Archaeological Museum in Naples. In ancient times, shopkeepers protected their businesses from ill-will and envy by putting up these sculptures on their shop-fronts. I am considering commissioning one of the gallery artists to make one for our shop-front. Am not sure what Camden planning-people will say… 

Bronze phalluses, Museum of Archaeology, Naples

Phallus shrine, Museum of Archaeology, Naples

Stone phallus, Naples

The Neapolitans are the only people I saw in 2015 who still communicate without resorting to their smart-phones at every turn. They love human interaction – although I also thought they looked like penguins, gathered on the rocks around the Bay of Naples on Easter Sunday. 

Neapolitan penguins, Naples

We searched for the Villa where Oscar Wilde had stayed after his release from prison. 

Wilde’s abode, Naples

And we found Virgil’s tomb. 

Virgil’s tomb, Naples

London

In the Charlotte Street Gallery, Edgardo Rodriguez, an octogenarian artist from Argentina, had his first UK exhibition – colourful sculptures made from re-cycled plastic bottles. I have wanted to do this show for 8 years and it was superb.

Georgia McCann and her pink armadillo, dressed for happiness, Rebecca Hossack Art Gallery, London

I did not want to leave Edgardo and his wonderful peacocks, armadillos and butterflies, and Solange who had flown with him from Argentina to see the show. But after the private view I flew back to Singapore (for another art fair).

Singapore

The minute I see the shrines that adorn every street corner I am happy. 

Roadside shrine, Little India, Singapore

My best friend – from Law School days back in Australia – Gabrielle Trainor, came to stay with me at the Wanderlust Hotel in Little India. 

Wanderlust Hotel, Little India, Singapore

My room looked like a futuristic Aubrey Beardsley.

Aubrey Beardsley room, Wanderlust Hotel, Little India, Singapore

England

Back in England, I gave a lecture on Aboriginal art – for NADFAS, at Moor Park Mansion in Rickmansworth. NADFAS (National Association of Decorative and Fine Art Societies) is an international organisation with around 450 local societies and 80,000 members across the UK, Europe, Australia and New Zealand.  It was a beautiful Spring evening and in a beautiful eighteenth-century mansion, now a golf club. It almost made me want to take up golf. 

Moor Park Manor, Rickmansworth, UK...Surely I am back in Naples?....

San Francisco

To San Francisco for Art Market San Francisco. The last time I had been in SF was about five years ago as a guest lecturer at the De Young Museum. Nothing had changed - and the Japanese Gardens beside the museum were as enchanting as ever. 

The Japanese Gardens, De Young Museum, San Francisco

A Rebecca Hossack Art Gallery bag enjoys the tranquility, De Young Museum, San Francisco

Georgia and I developed a taste for matcha latte.

Georgia McCann, San Francisco

and some people look like the art I sell...

Phil Shaw’s The Truth in Black and White with Some Grey Areas 2, eight colour pigment based archival print on Hahnemuhle paper, San Francisco

Rob Tucker, This container is full of vanilla ice cream with cherries on top, oil and resin on board, San Francisco

Rob Tucker, This container is filled with corn dogs, oil and resin on board, San Francisco

And some even tried to have sex with it.

The streets of SF seem to belong to the homeless. Apparently many other American cities give their homeless people one-way-tickets to San Francisco. None of them wear flowers in the hair as they arrive. Although one morning a homeless man gave me a branch of dogwood. It is such an aloof and captivating flower. I kept it in my room all week. 

The San Francisco subway, which is a home of sorts to the homeless, and which I shared with them on my visit to Sherry Karver’s studio, is very different from the elegant depictions of travel in Sherry Karver’s work. 

Subway, San Francisco

Sherry Karver’s depictions of commuters and the stories of their lives, San Francisco

Sherry Karver’s studio, Oakland, California

I met Georgia for a breakfast meeting to finalise fair deliveries before setting off again with my red suitcase. 

Rebecca Hossack and Georgia McCann, San Francisco

Germany 

Germany always impresses me. Or the Germans do: they seem so confident and capable. And everything works. We went to Bad Homburg (near Frankfurt in the south of the country). 

In the late Nineteenth Century, it was the place where European Royalty went to “take the waters”. Oscar Wilde was sent there by his doctors to lose weight. This was the view from his window. 

Kurpark, Bad Homburg, Germany

Although the Royalty and the fat-playwrights have departed, the well-ordered classically inspired Spa is still working.

The Rebecca Hossack Art Gallery bag gets everywhere, Bad Homburg, Germany

Is it Rebecca Hossack or Daniel Buren?

MAY 

London, Hong Kong, London

The 20/21 International Art Fair at the Royal College of Art in London marks the start of the Spring calendar in the art world. Frankie decided to emulate Helen Flockhart’s remarkable painting and the flowers came out. 

Frankie Cherry with Helen Flockhart’s Black Swan, White Swan, oil on canvas, London

Frankie Cherry with Helen Flockhart’s Hummingbirds and Orchids, oil on canvas, London

Hong Kong

Back in Hong Kong in May for yet another fair. It is only May, and I have done 9 international fairs already – and back in Yo-Hann’s flat. He has become a lucky cat fan too! 

Lucky cats in Yo-Hann Tan’s flat, Hong Kong

I tried to take anther portrait of Sophie, and to re-create Gainsborough’s ‘Blue Boy’ with a portrait of Gene, my friend from Korea.

More flowers for Sophie, Hong Kong

Gene, the Blue Boy of Korea, Hong Kong

London

The end of May is the start of my favourite time of the year: our annual Songlines' Season. This year was our 27th in a series of Aboriginal exhibitions. My friend and heroine Pat Lowe came over for it. She is the widow of the great Walmajarri artist, Jimmy Pike. She brought with her two Aboriginal men, Mervyn Street and David Chuguna. (David’s mother, Juguna, was a great artist and good friend. She had stayed with us a decade ago, for an exhibition at the Brighton Festival.) 

They all arrived at the same moment that I got back from Hong Kong, and they came with me to SOAS where I was giving a lecture at 10 am – straight after getting off the plane! 

Rebecca Hossack with David Chuguna, Mervyn Street and Pat Lowe at SOAS, London

I had invited Pat, David and Mervyn to participate in the OZ/NZ Literary Festival at King’s College London, and every morning before the Literary Festival, we went to Regent’s Park to look at the flowers and search for squirrels. 

Pat Lowe, Mervyn Street and David Chuguna, Regent’s Park, London

Mervyn Street and David Chuguna, Regent’s Park, London

Mervyn Street on a penny farthing, London

Top-hat shopping with David Chuguna and Mervyn Street, London

 Mervyn Street and David Chuguna, Russell Square, London

JUNE 

London

And now it is summer. Fun, Flowers, Fairs and Festivals. 

Phil Shaw’s Frequently Asked Questions, eight colour pigment based archival print on Hahnemuhle paper,  found a new admirer, London

Rebecca Hossack and Pippa Small, London

Rebecca Hossack with dinosaurs, London

Rebecca Hossack with Iain Nutting and his new dog sculpture, London

Our collaboration with Gail’s Bakeries is in full flow. We have 22 pop-up galleries all over London. 

Searching for new artists in Dalston, London

Olympia Art and Antiques fair begins.

and some people look like the art I sell...

Andy Dixon, Red Dinner, acrylic and oil pastel on canvas, London

Iain Nutting, Blue Dog, reclaimed scrap metal, London

Summer at the Opera – ‘Garsington’ at Wormshill with Josephine Amankwe.

Rebecca Hossack and Josephine Amankwe

Opera at The Grange, Hampshire

And I predict brooches will make a comeback.

A.N. Wilson gave me his book on the Life of Jesus. Now he is writing about Darwin.

Rebecca Hossack with A N Wilson, London

I marvel at his study – and his modesty. 

For the Marylebone Festival we collaborated with the old-established decorative specialists Little Greene. The gallery-artists created works using Little Greene wallpapers and paints. 

Barbara Macfarlane’s Marylebone maps using Little Greene paints, London

All the fun of the fayre, Marylebone

I have always loved miniature American Indian baskets. Was thrilled to find another at the Olympia Fair, which is still going on and on….11 days to be precise. Still it is a privilege to spend each day surrounded by the rare and remarkable creations of mankind 

American Indian baskets at the Olympia fair, London

Rebecca Hossack Art Gallery installation, Olympia Art and Antiques Fair, London, 2015

Olympia Art and Antiques Fair, 2015, London

JULY 

London, The Hamptons, London, Seattle

As part of the Aboriginal Culture exhibition at the British Museum, I chaired a symposium on collecting Aboriginal art. Amongst those I invited to be on the panel was the Miami-based collectors Dennis and Debra Scholl.

Dennis and Debra Scholl outside the British Museum, London

His collection of works by Warlimpirrringa, the last Aboriginal to make first-contact with White Australians (in 1984) is currently touring the US. He was excited to learn that we had put on an exhibition of work by Warlimpirringa and his brother Walala back in 1999.

The gallery team prepare to visit Glastonbury, Rebecca Hossack Art Gallery, London

Diamonds are forever, Rebecca Hossack Art Gallery, London

For Mayfair Art Week, Trevor Pickett decorated the walls of his shop with pictures that he had bought from the gallery over the past 27 years. It was a celebration of a very personal collection.

Rebecca Hossack Art Gallery exhibition at Pickett as part of Mayfair Art Week, London

Rebecca Hossack’s cross stitch sampler made as a gift for Trevor Pickett, London

Rebecca Hossack Art Gallery installation at Pickett, London

The Hamptons

This year the Market Art and Design fair in The Hamptons was held in a large tent in an even larger cornfield – at the end of a dirt track. 

Amazingly people came to find us

and some people look like the art that I sell...

Ross Bonfanti, Blue Eyes, concrete, steel and toy parts, The Hamptons

Rebecca Jewell, Owl Feathers, printed feathers in a vintage frame, The Hamptons

Morten Lassen, Surrounded, oil and spray paint on canvas, The Hamptons

Barbara Macfarlane’s Venice and Paris, oil and ink on khadi paper, The Hamptons

Camouflaged by Rebecca Jewell’s feather mist-net, printed feathers, mist net and willow branches, The Hamptons

If you timed it right you could catch a golf-buggy from your parked car to the art-fair entrance. 

Rebecca Hossack and Matthew Sturgis, The Hamptons, New York

Otherwise it was a long walk in the hot sun. 

Rebecca Hossack’s ideal mode of transport, The Hamptons

Iain Nutting’s scrap metal gorilla, The Hamptons

Robert Bradford’s dog sculptures accompany Phil Shaw’s homage to our shared heritage with the USA, The Special Relationship, The Hamptons

and some people look like the art that I sell...

Piers Bourke, A Boy named Sioux, acrylic paint on ink on collaged photographic print, The Hamptons

And some people were in our art.

Pulitzer prize-winner Edward Albee in front of his book on Phil Shaw’s bookshelf, The Hamptons, New York

New York

I love taking the Hampton Jitney back to New York, and, inspired by the shrines I had seen all over Singapore, I set up a shrine in our New York gallery, as we hung paintings of dancers by Julio Alan Lepez.

Shrine at the Rebecca Hossack Art Gallery on Mott Street, New York

Julio Alan Lepez installation, Rebecca Hossack Art Gallery on Mott Street, New York

Julio Alan Lepez installation, Rebecca Hossack Art Gallery on Mott Street, New York

Robert Bradford’s dog sculptures, Rebecca Hossack Art Gallery on Mott Street, New York

Someone had sprayed ‘In Pursuit of Magic’ on the gallery steps. I love it.

London

Back in London the American artist Frank Hyder had installed his inflatable Janus sculpture outside the gallery in Conway Street.

Frank Hyder installation, Rebecca Hossack Art Gallery, London

Argentinian artist Julio Alan Lepez was hanging on the ground floor and on the top two floors Georgia had installed Aboriginal paintings as part of our annual Songlines season. 

The Songlines Season continues, Rebecca Hossack Art Gallery, London

And the lucky cat collection continued to grow.

The flowers are still in bloom.

Seattle

I had never been to Seattle and at first I hated it. Landing on a rainy Sunday and wandering around a deserted city, I was so miserable I took refuge in the cinema and didn’t come out till 3 films later.  Amy Schumer’s Trainwreck cheered me up.

But by the time Seattle Art Fair opened two days later, I loved the city. All the restaurants have weird animal names –

‘The Walrus and the Carpenter’

‘The Wandering Goose’

‘How to Cook a Wolf’

‘The Whale Wins’

‘Anchovies and Olives’

‘Lark’

But my favourite was Maneki, a 107-year-old Japanese restaurant,. Every table was adorned with Lucky Cats. The walls were covered with them too. And dozens of them purred from the window.

Maneki restaurant, Seattle

The other thing about Seattle which seems a small old-fashioned hippy place, is that it is – incredibly – the birthplace  and/or home of so many huge companies:

Microsoft

Starbucks

Boeing

Amazon

Costco

Nordstrom

I think being surrounded by all that water and space must free up the brain, and give people a sense of empowerment.

Just before the fair opened, I decided that we should paint our stand black – to make it, and the artwork, stand out.

 It looked great. So great that we got on to the front-page of the New York Times – with a picture of Ross Bonfanti’s concrete dogs.

Rebecca Hossack Art Gallery installation, Seattle Art Fair, 2015

The fair was sponsored by Microsoft’s Paul Allen, and took place next to the Citylink stadium of the Seattle Sounders soccer team. A client gave us a ticket to a Sounders game on Saturday night. They lost.

Citylink Stadium, Seattle

Another client gave me another piece of inspirational advice. Why does this happen?!

and some people look like the art I sell...

 Morten Lassen, Tracked, oil and spray paint on canvas

The other great thing about Seattle was reconnecting with Bob Kaplan and visiting the magnificent collection of Aboriginal art that he had assembled with his wife Margo Levi.

Rebecca Hossack and Bob Kaplan

The Levi-Kaplan Collection, Seattle

Crossing 5th avenue and old Alaskan way, I saw a small yellow figure of a man painted on the road. I had seen another of these figures near my gallery in New York in 2011, and I had searched for them ever since. 

Painted figures on the road, W.Housten, New York

Who does them? They are always in the middle of a main road and hard to photograph.

I know that one day I am going to love Portland, Oregon. But this time I didn’t. It seemed damaged  by cars, by morotways, impossible to park and the Dennis Scholl exhibition of Aboriginal art which we had come to see had closed early.

August 

London, Italy, Jakarta

Hop on a plane back to England. On our return, we learned the Conway Street gallery was to be featured as part of the Victoria and Albert Museum’s Tower of Babel display. The Tower of Babel consists of 3,000 individual bone china buildings, each measuring 10 – 13cm tall and depicting a real London shop.

Rebecca Hossack Art Gallery in the Tower of Babel installation at Victoria and Albert Museum, London

Italy 

James Farrelly is an American painter who lives in Rome and exhibits at my gallery. Every summer he decamps to Monte Argentario in Tuscany. This silver mountain is a bit of Africa which broke off and drifted to the coast of Italy. It really is.

Monte Argentario, Italy

James paints the beach and every summer we visit him to swim in the sea and see his family, and generally become a part of his paintings.

James Farrelly, The Beach, mixed media on paper

His brother Edward Barker is a poet, and this year he had developed a mania for gardening.

It was hard to sit and watch the sea, as Edward broke rocks and carried huge sacks of earth on his back. So after a day I joined in. We were digging the rocky ground with pick axes all day long, and only when the sun started to set would we walk down the mountain and jump off the rocks into the wine-dark sea to wash away the dirt. 

London

I needed a holiday after this holiday and I returned to London for a day to meet Marian Maguire, a New Zealand artist that a client had recommended to me. 

Marian Maguire’s Odyssey of Captain Cook, Rebecca Hossack Art Gallery, London

Jakarta

Indonesia is the largest Muslim country in the world and arriving on a Sunday night, it struck me how low wattage the city was and how little the public realm. It was sepulchral.

I pulled up to the hotel gate, eight armed guards stopped the taxi, lifted the bonnet, shone torches in my face and under the car before allowing us to pass. 

At the hotel door all my luggage was screened, as was I - and this happened EVERY time I re-entered the hotel. 

Art Jakarta was sponsored by Harpers Bazaar, and was bizarre. It was in the ballroom of the Ritz-Carlton hotel where they had recently installed new carpet. The Asian dealer whose stand was opposite us screamed and threw a tantrum at the sight of the carpet. It was impossible to show art against such a floor. 

and some people look like the art I sell...

Phil Shaw’s The Truth in Black and White with Some Grey Areas, eight colour pigment based archival print on Hahnemuhle paper

The floor didn’t really matter, because when we all turned up at 3 pm for the VIP private view, no one came. At 6 pm there was still no one, and when at 7 pm people finally (!) arrived, the gallerists were locked inside the exhibition hall whilst everyone stood in the foyer drinking cups of tea and listening to a muezzin chant. 

At 9:30 pm people were finally allowed in, but having been there for 6 1/2 hours, we left. The carpet got the better of us.

September 

Australia, London

Bill Zammit, Joy and Tracey collected me from the airport in Darwin and took me for a late night hamburger before catching a dawn flight to Alice Springs.

Alice Springs

The NT News is the most ridiculous newspaper in the world and someone should make a book of their front pages. 

Cover story of NT News

I met the Aboriginal artist Trudy Inkamala who made soft sculptures out of old sacks, and asked her to exhibit in New York at the Outsider Art Fair!

Trudy Inkamala, Girl with Cooloman, soft sculpture

And Nongirrna Marawili from Yirrkala, whom I had not seen for 20 years, had developed into a great artist.

On Sunday 5th September, I nearly died. I was traveling down the Southern Stock Route with Adrian Newstead and Roslyn Premont when the back tyre exploded and we careered off the road. 

Rebecca Hossack, Adrian Newstead and Roslyn Premont

Because it was Sunday and so early, no one was around. But, as though in a movie, one of the most important men in the story of contemporary Aboriginal art – Dick Kimber – drove past. He too was on his way to Yuendumu for the ceremonial opening of the sacred men’s room. 

He and his companions rescued us, and at noon, we arrived in Yuendumu. 

Yuendumu, Australia

The women were preparing for their dance.

Women preparing to dance, Yuendumu, Australia

Children of Yuendumu, Australia

I watched with Michael Nelson Tjakamarra, who in 1988 had designed the Possum and Wallaby Dreaming forecourt mosaic at Parliament House Canberra. In 1988, he was the most famous Aboriginal artist in the world.

Rebecca Hossack and Michael Nelson Tjakamarra

Sydney

At Sydney airport, I collided with Sarah carrying a Rebecca Hossack bag. Those bags get everywhere.

Rebecca Hossack and Sarah Healey, Sydney

At Sydney Contemporary, my New Zealand based artist Rob Tucker had decided to add neon lights to his paintings and they weighed a tonne - literally. All the walls had to be reinforced. It was not what I needed with only a day to install a huge stand, but once switched on, they looked magnificent.

Rebecca Hossack Art Gallery installation, Sydney Contemporary, 2015

Amazingly, no one at Sydney Contemporary looked like our art, but people looked like our bags....

Rebecca Hossack Art Gallery bags, Sydney Contemporary, 2015

Rebecca Hossack Art Gallery bag, Sydney Contemporary, 2015

Rebecca Hossack leaving Australia

London

Back in London, the gallery team up for the LAPADA Art and Antiques Fair in Berkeley Square. I am a director of LAPADA and I love this fair for all the variety of experts it gathers under one roof. 

LAPADA dealers are passionate, obsessed and knowledgeable.

Rebecca Hossack Art Gallery installation, LAPADA Art and Antiques Fair, London, 2015

Georgia McCann, Rebecca Hossack Art Gallery, LAPADA Art and Antiques Fair, London, 2015

and some people look like the art I sell...

Phil Shaw’s The Special Relationship, eight colour pigment based archival print on Hahnemuhle paper

Aboriginal artist Ngupula Pumani, Maku Inma Pakani, synthetic polymer paint on canvas 

David Whitaker, June no. 6, oil and string on canvas, London

Helen Flockhart’s Hummingbirds and Orchids, oil on canvas, London

Aboriginal artists Watarru Collective, Ilpili, synthetic polymer paint on canvas

October 

London, Toronto, London

Rose Blake is now an artist. 

Rebecca Hossack, Sir Peter Blake RA and Georgia McCann, Rebecca Hossack Art Gallery, London

Rose Blake sets up her exhibition, Rebecca Hossack Art Gallery, London

Georgia looks like our art.

Rose Blake, A Pink Heart, monotype, London

Toronto

Leaving for Toronto

Off to Canada. Arriving in Toronto we head straight to Mennonite country in Wellington, Ontario to visit the Mallesons. I had always wanted to see Andrew’s Mennonite farm. It was inspiring. 

The Mennonite Farm, Toronto

Women driving horse-drawn carriage, Toronto

Art Toronto. Canadians are so so so nice. We have been going to the fair for 12 years now and it feels like coming home. 

Rebecca Hossack Art Gallery installation, Art Toronto, 2015

Rebecca Hossack Art Gallery installation, Art Toronto, 2015

My prediction that brooches are making a come back is coming true. 

I heard about the piles of stuffed animals in Ross Bonfanti’s studio but it is so weird to see them. 

Soft toys in Ross Bonfanti’s studio, Toronto

Ross Bonfanti, Toronto

Back to London.

November 

Singapore, London

They were dancing in the streets in Singapore when I arrived. 

I set up a shrine on my desk. I needed help to get through this - my 24th art fair of 2015.

Rebecca Hossack Art Gallery shrine, Singapore, 2015

London

Back in the gallery, we held a Laura Jordan Studio Sale with mulled wine and mince pies, as Laura relocates from London to Corby.

December

Miami, London

What can I say about Miami? A lot of rainbows, and a lot of rain!

Rebecca Hossack, Rob Tucker and Georgia McCann, Miami

Rebecca Hossack at the Art Aqua VIP opening, Miami

We stole a plastic flamingo and met a wonderful shark surgeon and art collector. 

Flamingo theft, Miami

White sandals were all the rage in Miami

Rebecca Hossack Art Gallery installation, Miami Project, 2015

Rob Tucker, who was showing with us at both Miami Project and Scope Miami Beach, made sure The Big Lebowski was never far from our minds, as we drank white Russians and enjoyed burgers at every neon-lit diner we could find. 

Miami Project, Miami

Rebecca Hossack and Frank Hyder ride to the fair in style, Miami

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Monday 15 December- Saturday 20 December

I turned up to the gallery in the evening, to find all the gallery staff dressed up in black and white, enjoying a cocktail making lesson. They were in fine spirits (literally), and trying out all manner of weird coloured concoctions. 

The cocktail class underway

Jo, Frankie and Alexandra with their creations

Our artist Alasdair Wallace called in, bringing with him beautiful new works from Glasgow.

Alasdair Wallace and Georgia

This was the start of Christmas fun; and there has been one excitement after another. We are rehanging everyday as artists bring in amazing new work, which seems to sell as quickly as it goes on the wall. We are drinking tons of cocktails, and the cake delivered as a present from Choccywoccydoodah is gorgeous. 

Off to Rome for Christmas. I cannot believe it's almost a year since I was standing in St Peter's Square listening to the Pope's Christmas address, and that's what I'll be doing again this Christmas morning. 

Two Turtle Doves by Holly Frean 

Sunday 14 December

Of course, the impotent answerphone messages left at JFK lost property had not resulted in a response, so in the cold light of a New York Sunday morning, the prospect of spending my life at The Terminal did not seem so great.  I read the New York Times all the way to JFK. It is such a weird shape, long and thin like Long Island, and very hard to read.

Early Sunday morning at the airport was a dismal affair. No one knew where lost property was, and after an hour of asking, I was directed to the basement. There, beside a sickly potted palm and a plastic chair, I sat and waited. Eventually a nice old man tottered in with MY PASSPORT. No more Terminal life for me!

With joy, I jumped back into a cab (very nice driver) and went straight to the Guggenheim Museum to see Zero: Countdown to Tomorrow 1950s-60s.

When I worked at the Peggy Guggenheim Collection in Venice, she had only just died, and I remember clearing out her basement. There were lots of canvases with nails driven through them and spray painted white by a German artist called Gunther Uecker.

Gunther Uecker's work

I used to stack them up in piles and could not see the point of them. However, this morning in New York, some 30 years on, I thought his work ravishing.

The Zero artists did not believe in hanging paintings on the wall, and suspended them from the ceiling with the artists' names on the floor

I think this method of displaying art looks stunning, and it is something I am going to try out. It will, however, make it difficult to move around the house! 

I have developed two strange superstitions, both induced, I think, by the large number of art fairs that I am doing. The first one is that if I see a flat-faced dog- pug, bulldog, Boston Terrier, French bulldog- as my first dog of the day, I know I will have a successful time at the fair. It used to be rare to see flat-faced dogs, but now there is virtually no other breed walking the streets of New York. I am feeling very lucky.

Peter Clark's Bulldog 

My second superstition is that I have taken to eating ice creams at midnight, and I have just discovered New York's best ice cream parlour, Morgensterns, which is around the corner from the gallery. Even though it is freezing, I keep going to buy ice creams.

At 5 o'clock, with my newly found passport, I headed for JFK for the second time that day. I slept all the way home to England.

Saturday 13 December

Ravi is the third cleverest man I know. He is a Tamil and I met him several years ago in the Hamptons when he bought a Phil Shaw. I knew we would be friends when I saw his complete set of Enid Blyton first editions. Ravi and I had arranged dinner at an Indian restaurant with some old university friends. We planned my new life at The Terminal. I realised that when the AA steward had moved all the fat people and the carry-on luggage, my passport had slipped out of my bag. In my hurry to get off upon landing, I had not checked the overhead locker.

Ravi showed me pictures of us in the Hamptons this summer driving in his Tesla.

Rebecca Hossack in a Tesla

Friday 12 December

On Friday, I realized that I had lost my passport. This was REALLY bad. In it is a stamp, without which I am not allowed back into Britain, and a stamp without which I am not allowed into America. I had visions of being stranded in the airport, like Tom Hanks in The Terminal.

The impotence engendered by the recorded messages that were the end result of every number I was advised to call made me feel that actually life in The Terminal would be preferable.

Thursday 11 December

I had caught 'Basel flu' in Miami- everyone had it, and I have been living on a diet of Tylenol and champagne. But this morning I woke and felt better for the first time.

It was great to spend a day meeting museum curators and Rebecca Jewell in the gallery, discussing exciting collaborations. That evening Rebecca was giving a talk at the Audobon society in Prospect Park, Brooklyn. I was amazed that the snow had not put people off attending, as access to the Boathouse where the Audobon society has its headquarters is through a wild, dark wood. And yet there was standing room only!

Wednesday 10 December

How many hours, days and months of my life have I spent waiting to cross a road? This morning crossing Biscayne Boulevard it took three minutes for the lights to change before one could  cross the first three lanes and a  further three minutes of patient waiting in order to  to cross the next two lanes from the traffic island in the middle.

 I hate being a passive bystander, but every day of the Miami art fair, I have spent at least 27 minutes standing mutely by the side of a roaring highway- 189 minutes this week! How can this time be used well? Should there be Chinese symbol cards to memorise attached to the light poles? A series of stretching exercises? A song we should all sing?

The crossing at Biscayne Boulevard-  Sophie and Arnaud's condo is in the third block

This morning, I crossed Biscayne Boulevard with Sophie and the wonderdog Sara for an early morning walk to the Perez Museum. The sun was shining, the air was balmy and the epiphytes hanging from the Museum porch looked like strings of underwater sea-sausages. 

It was my last day in Miami, and so I gulped down the sun. 

I had forgotten how beautiful the floor in Miami airport is: terrazzo with bronze plant- and sea-forms set into it. But even that couldn't cheer me up at the prospect of my American Airlines flight: I hate American Airlines. I had also read that Usain Bolt's manager says flying is really bad for your muscles. I am worried about my career as an elite athlete!

The air-stewardess on the 1pm AA flight to New York had taken it upon herself to re-arrange our seat allocations. There were a lot of morbidly obese people on the flight and she was moving the passengers around so that thinner people sat next to fatter people. It was an extraordinary procedure and in the process we had to move our overhead luggage.

The day had started with palm trees and sunshine in Miami, and so it was a shock to step off the plane into a snowy, dark New York. Rebecca Jewell’s PV started in an hour at my New York gallery, and so battling the evening snow and the grumpy taxi driver, I headed there. I could see the gallery glowing all the way down Mott Street. It looked gorgeous and stepping into it was a delight. Rebecca Jewell looked resplendent in a feather headdress and the sound of birdsong filled the air.

Rebecca had organized an after-show party at Freemans,  so we trooped through the snow and partied late. I loved catching up Neil Stahl and his wife Jayne Raper, two genius scientists whom I adore.

[rebeccahossackartgallery]

Art Miami Week:  Sunday 30 November – Tuesday 9 December

It’s all about property and money, and using art as a deal maker/breaker. The opening of Miami Basel was penitential. The dealers looked craven, exhausted and depressed; the visitors looked anxious and ill at ease. The carpet looked like vomit. Three hedge funders stared at a pile of brown bricks- knowing they were 'the thing to buy'. They tapped them; they tried to listen to them; they smiled awkwardly at each other and at the bricks while the dealer wearily slugged champagne. NO ONE LOOKED HAPPY. The money men have truly hijacked art. Nothing has any spiritual or emotional value in this arena, fuelled by the carbon monoxide of status anxiety.

We left this joyless world, and took solace in the moon above Palm Beach. The satellite fairs, one of which we were exhibiting at, managed to evince a little more of what Sir Kenneth Clark called ‘the life enhancing power of art'.

Sophie and Arnaud are working with Chanoir, a street artist born in Bogota and raised in Paris. Miami’s Wynwood district is like a block of liquorice all-sorts ; every building is aglow with graffiti. Chanoir has a joie de vivre and charm, and he himself exudes these qualities. 

Wynwood's street art

Chanoir's wall in Wynwood

Every morning, Sophie had arranged VIP breakfasts for us. The first was at the collection of Debra and Dennis Scholl, who had given a curator the key to their home.

She had reinterpreted their collection, -  predominantly by focussing on Aboriginal art. I was astonished to see Butcher Cherel, who came to stay with me twenty years ago, and is one of my favourite Aboriginal artists, hanging in every room. Apparently, he is one of Dennis’ favourites too!

The breakfast at the Fairchild Botanical Gardens was enchanting.

Dale Chihuly had ‘intervened’ in the garden; more often than not, I wished he hadn’t. Like many men, he seems to prefer hot primary colours: red, orange and yellow, with little or no nuance.

Chihuly installation on water

Against the subtlety of the myriad greens of the garden, these looked garish. The most successful were the white glass pods floating at the moat of the mangrove trees.

Rebecca Hossack enjoying the mangrove pods

I do not understand why Chihuly is lauded in the contemporary art world. Always the work references the same trope of gangling, lurid tentacles- so different from the virtuosity and tonality of the Venetian glass masters.

Nothing he created could match the butterfly house.

Admiration for Sherry Karver at our fair booth

Frankie had come out from the  London gallery to help at the fair and she could not believe how many people she spoke to did not know who Mondrian was, nor could she believe that the huge diamonds in the ears of the rapper in the lift at Sophie and Arnaud’s condo were real. Every night after a long hard day at the fair, we would venture, exhausted, to South Beach for dinner. Arnaud’s stamina was unceasing, however. His commitment to the consumption of whole snow crabs in their shells was astonishing. His performance with the claw crackers became an art. Perhaps, had he been put on a pedestal at Art Basel, he would have pulled it from its own abyss. At least we had Sophie's Christmas antics to cheer us up.

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Saturday 29 November

Off to Miami.  I slept all the way. Sophie and Arnaud picked me up at the airport and we went straight to Starbucks in Coconut Grove. I am in America!

Sophie and Arnaud are from Paris, but have lived in Miami for twelve years. I met them eleven years ago when they bought a Peter Clark work from me at Palm Beach and we have become friends.

[rebeccahossackartgallery]

  Friday 28 November

Final preparations for Miami were underway, packing pictures to take as hand luggage. And considering buying a new car.

Rebecca Hossack with potential new wheels

Thursday 27 November

Two thanksgiving meals: lunch with Tina and Belinda and turkey with Alvin and Ian in Highgate, surrounded by their amazing Aboriginal collection.

Then desserts and much discussion about Alvin and Ian’s forthcoming wedding party at the gallery.

 Wednesday 26 November

I arrived back in London, and unpacked and repacked for Miami for Saturday 29. The climate of both are similar.

That evening, we had an amazing party at the gallery for the Aurora Scholars. Four years ago there had never been an Aboriginal scholar at Oxford or Cambridge- now there are 26. We had cocktails and the Aboriginal scholars spoke. Their stories were amazing. The philosopher A C Grayling talked to one scholar doing a doctorate in Cambridge in the Philosophy of the Mind.

The Aurora Indigenous Scholars

Rebecca Hossack with Jon slack,  Director of Australian  and New Zealand Literary Festival

Rebecca Hossack with A.C Grayling , Richard Potok and Jon Slack

Tuesday 25 November

I totally love Burnt Ends restaurant. The owner Dave Pynt looks like Ned Kelly- and of course he is Australian.  

We were having a party to launch Laura Jordan’s new Singapore series.

Dave was at a wedding in Margaret River in West Australia and rang to see how it was all going- quail’s egg, a wood food oven and the pictures looked stunning. It was perfect.

At 8.30, I left to catch the midnight plane to London. another week, another long international flight.

Monday 24 November

The waitress at the restaurant where I dined lives in Malaysia because it is cheaper and travels four hours each way to and from work. She has two little boys and loves children. It was 11 pm and she was still working.

Friday 22- Sunday 23 November          

Yo-Hann Tann took me for a delicious dinner at an Italian restaurant on Saturday night. It was quiet and relaxing and delicious. He had just come back from Seoul. Everyone I meet in Singapore is weekending in Jakarta, Hong Kong, Cambodia....

The fair finished Sunday evening. We had virtually sold out.

My Sunday evening roll call of crates is always something I dread and we had work to be shipped to London, Hong Kong and to remain in Singapore.

However, the prospect of a delicious dinner in Duxton Hill and cocktails on the roof top terrace of Marina Bay Sands with the other British dealers sustained us as we wrapped and packed.

At 2am, I was back at my hotel but too tired to sleep. I went to the 7-11 in China Town and bought two Magnum ice creams, and sat under an awning watching the rain.

Thursday 20 November

The juxtaposition of vast skyscrapers and little shops with shrines placed on the streets, with offerings like a cup of coffee or an orange in front of them never ceases to amaze me.

Skyscrapers and shrines

This morning I went for a run and saw an old man gathering fallen flowers and putting them in a plastic bag. Later I saw the same flowers spread out on the ground at the entrance to a temple.

Scattered flowers at the temple

It is impossible to run in Singapore.

Wednesday 19 November

Although it was like being in a refrigerator, the opening of the fair was totally ablaze. Laura Jordan’s new Singapore series was appreciated by a crowd three people deep.

Our stand at Singapore

Rob Tucker paintings, channelling the vibe of Singapore colour

Monday 17- Tuesday 18 November 

Experiencing the bucolic joys of Autumn at Griff and Jo’s, it was hard to come back to London and pack for my departure to Singapore on Monday evening. I still had not unpacked from my trip to New York one week before, and I could not think HOT, and I had decided to carry Robert Bradford’s recently completed sculpture of a bejewelled dog AND an Iain Nutting scrap metal horse. Three cases, and not enough clothes.

I arrived in Singapore on Tuesday evening and went straight to the art fair, where I found Isy and Sarah had already unpacked the crates. It was so hot and humid, but then they do this crazy thing in Singapore where in every car, shop or hotel the air conditioning is absolutely freezing. What is wrong with lower buildings and the slow whir of a ceiling fan?

I bought a Magnum ice cream for dinner (Singapore is hard for coeliacs) and went to bed.

Friday 14 November- Sunday 16 November

Griff Rhys Jones has been criticized in the press for his complaints about mansion tax. So he was not on totally ebullient Griff form for his birthday weekend in Suffolk. But his daughter Katherine created the most delicious meals- breakfast segued into lunch and by the end Griff was singing opera around the table. We found the biggest oyster in the world in the mud at the bottom of their garden.

Thursday 13 November

This is the time of year when I meet all the artists and we plan their schedules for the forthcoming calendar. 

Iain Nutting is doing really well with his life sized gorillas made from reclaimed metal. And Rebecca Jewell is continuing as Artist in Residence at the British Museum.

A late dash to Charlotte Street for the opening of Hepzibah Swinford’s show. Her daughter Beatrice, burlesque dancer extraordinaire, has made cakes to complement, inspired by the paintings.

Lee Evans continues her support of Hepzibah by buying a superb work. 

Wednesday 12 November

The team from Anthropology love RHG, and after the success of Holly Frean’s chicken show they want to work with more of our artists. Barbara Macfarlane was in the gallery to discuss her NYC show and they loved her work and hearing about her amazing Khadi paper project.

We had cakes from the Brazilian café and then it was time to head to the Burlington Arcade for the Christmas lights. With so many meetings, Frankie claimed she was slipping into insanity. At that moment, the Poetry Group started to arrive. John Stammer is a wonderful poet and he has mentored the group for over a decade. They were launching their new anthology in the gallery.

Rebecca Hossack with poets Edward Barker and John Stammers

I wanted to stay and hear them read the poems (Edward Barker is my favourite) but I had to go to the Resurgence and Ecologist Dinner at the Lancaster Hotel. I am a trustee of Resurgence and a huge supporter of Satish Kumar, the Editor.

I hated the hotel ballroom and the hotel seemed so removed from what Resurgence stands for, but someone told me they keep bees on the roof. Hmmm…

Tuesday 11 November

Awoke with a sense of dread. Philosophy class tonight and I HAVEN’T READ PLOTINUS. Resolved to spend the day reading. As if! Morning meeting with Laura Jordan and lunch with Frankie Whitaker, tea with Katherine Virgils. Artists all day long and then a dash to the 7pm start of the two hour class. The teacher really annoys me. He is so tentative. I want to sit there and be told things, but he expects me to THINK!

Monday 10 November

Adrian Dannatt brought his 90 year old mother to meet me. In January, we are celebrating her birthday with an exhibition. I adore octo and nona- genarians. They are so brave, so modest, so interesting.

Saturday 8 November- Sunday 9 November

This was my first weekend in London for months,  and so Matthew and I rode our bikes to the Tower of London to see the poppies. A bit of product placement in the City of London.

All weekend people flooded the gallery to see the Derren Brown exhibition. Sold one of his photos.

Friday 7 November

Ian Butchoff is a remarkable man. He was born in a house with an outside loo, which his family shared with four other families. He began his career as a young boy buying silver plates with his father from Bermondsey market. Now he presides over a beautiful, and vast, antiques shop on Kensington High Street.

Ian and I are both Directors of LAPADA (The Art and Antique Dealers Association) and he took me to lunch at the coolest restaurant in  Fitzrovia, Dabbous.

 My dinner that evening was with another remarkable man, Yo-Hann Tann. As a student studying at LSE , Yo-Hann used to walk past my gallery and say 'One day I will buy something'.  Now he is a lawyer, and he has. I took him on a studio visit to Emma Haworth and then we went to Scotts for dinner. We discussed art and Singapore, two of my favourite topics

Thursday 6 November

One of the strangest things I have done was to carry a stuffed black swan down Euston Road on New Year's Day. I had bought it for Derren Brown, the genius illusionist. The swan settled in Derren’s home, and Derren and I had coffee and discussed his portraits.

Rebecca Hossack with Derren Brown's stuffed swan

In order to excel at his craft Derren has to study the human face intently. This understanding of physiognomy is fundamental to his art. After lunch with fellow LAPADA board member Catherine McKenna and a visit to her beautiful Beauchamp Place shop, I returned to his opening at the gallery, alongside Barbara Macfarlane's mapscapes, which was a WOW. It was particularly a WOW seeing the subjects of the portraits standing next to the canvas.

Ivan Massow is standing for the next Mayor of London. I like him.

Rebecca Hossack with Ivan Massow

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Wednesday 5 November

We spent all day having a staff meeting, discussing what had gone right at the fairs, what we could improve upon , and what was  coming up next in the calendar.

That evening we had a visit from the gallery accountant's wife Louise, who makes wonderful fur garments. I bought everyone a fur hat.

Then it was off to Balham for Mary Gibson's dinner party. All 22 guests were female. I was delighted to sit opposite Rachel Campbell-Johnston, who had written about us in The Times last week. 

Tuesday 4 November

Back in the London gallery, after what seemed months away, (but was only 2 weeks.) A delicious lunch with Isy, my gallery manager, at Dabbous. I ate grilled hay and silver birch sap- really.

On the way home from a LAPADA board meeting, I got caught in the rain with a flat tyre at Holland Park. I battled my way through the elements just in time for my evening's philosophy course, arriving in the perfect state of mind to tackle some of life's biggest questions.

Monday 3 November

On the plane and too tired to answer my mounting emails. Arrived back in London at 8.30 pm and went straight to dinner  (with my luggage in tow ) to a restaurant with Andrew Malleson, whose house we stay in whilst in Toronto. He was flying back that next day, so this was the only time we had to catch up. Andrew is a psychiatrist and after dinner I walked around Fitzrovia until midnight with Matthew because I was too tired to sleep.

Saturday 1 November

The first weekend I have ever spent at RHG NYC. It was cold and rainy and the city felt hungover after Halloween.

Sunday 2 November- Marathon day

The wind was freezing on Sunday morning when I ran across Broadway and down the Hudson riverbank. I had the gloves on that I wore when I ran the New York Marathon a few years ago. On each finger, it lists the five boroughs you run through: Staten Island, Brooklyn, Queens, Bronx and Manhattan. With the wind like a wall, I could not even run the distance printed on my little finger - Staten Island ! Poor, poor marathoners. 

The gallery is open on Sunday and Katy the intern (not wearing her leaf dress this time) and I planted white cyclamen around the trees outside the gallery. It was bitterly cold. 

Jess de la Hunty who interned with us in London came by, and we went for a hot chocolate and a catch-up. She is working at Other Criteria, selling Damian Hirst 'stuff'. After the Koons show, I have downgraded Hirst in my league-table of artists. 

That evening, I realised that Sober October was over! I had a glass of pink champagne to celebrate. Pretty amazing to do two fairs on both sides of the Atlantic and open three solo shows, David Forster, Andrew Mockett and Karen Nicol. I am so proud of the team.

After watching a weird New York movie called I Original,  I went to bed at 1am and got up at 4.30 am to catch plane to London. 

5 DAYS SINCE I WAS LAST ON A PLANE

Friday 31 October- Halloween

Everyone in New York goes crazy on this day. Our intern Katy left early to sew leaves on to her dress. It took me three hours to walk a few blocks, so thick were the dressed-up crowds. I saw Whoopi Goldberg on a float, leading the pandemonium on 6th Avenue. 

Thursday 30 October

Another day in the New York gallery. It is so different from the anodyne Chelsea spaces I visited later that evening. I love it, and so it seems do all the New Yorkers. 

Wednesday 29 October

I love running along the Hudson- I am the only one without a dog or a baby attached to me! 

A delicious breakfast at the Crosby St Hotel, with Katie-Alice, my gallery manager who is on maternity leave. We then walked to the gallery with Harvey in a pram (it really does seem you have to have a baby in a pram or a dog to perambulate through this city!) 

Karen Nicol's exhibition of textile collages looked gorgeous and glowing in the clear New York light. The whole show had sold out, with two pieces going to the actress Rooney Mara. 

Tuesday 28 October

A happy morning visiting my favourite Torontonian clients. I love Canadians, and indeed Canada. But at 4pm, it was time to pack and catch the 8pm Porter Air flight to New York. 

A RECORD SIX DAYS OF NOT BEING ON A PLANE!

Monday 27 October

North American fairs go on until Monday and so every school child in Toronto comes to the booth. None of them are capable of looking unless it is through the lens of a camera phone.

At 5 o'clock, an hour before the fair closes, depression sets in.  At 5 o'clock the fair looks glamorous, - and people are wandering down the carpeted aisles drinking champagne - and by 6.30 the lights are off, the carpets are gone, and huge trucks whistle down the aisles delivering crates from the loading bays. Was it all a mirage?

Phu, who was to help us pack the crates, had cut his hand. But his friend Graham, (who is a girl!), came in to help. Eventually everything was wrapped, the shipping documents signed off, and we were out of there! It was 1am and all the restaurants were closed, so we headed to Andrew and Donna's house for a midnight feast of gluten free toast. 

Saturday 25- Sunday 26 October

On Saturday, everyone was going crazy for Ross Bonfanti's concreatures. The gorgeous Andres from a Canadian gallery buys one every year- here he is with his latest acquisition.

The Sunday evening we go out to dinner with Greg Gatenby – Mr Toronto. He used to be the director of the brilliant Harbourfront Book Festival, and has infectious passions for world literature, Canadian history and good food. All of them important things. He takes us to a delightful little restaurant in a little street where every house is decorated for Halloween.

It is called The Wind-up Bird Café, run by a Korean writer and his wife. The food is delicious – as are the ingenious ‘mocktails’ devised ad-hoc by the charming barman. Greg is working on a history of the Canadian participation in World War I. He is full of brilliant stories. This evening we have the invention of barbed-wire. 

Friday 24 October

Although I think we are doing well in Toronto, I get an excited text message from the team back in London. They have been setting up for the AAF in Battersea Park. And the fair there has started with a blast. On Saturday morning The Times arts-section has a cover picture of their art-critic, the beautiful Rachel Campbell-Johnston, standing on our stand. She had been sent by the paper to cover the art-fair with an imaginary £3,000 in her pocket. And the artwork she chose to spend her virtual money on was Phil Shaw’s stunning monochrome print of a shelf of books, ‘The Truth in Black and White, with various shades of grey’. It is a brilliant work – and a brilliant choice! As a result of the coverage the print edition sells out by the end of the day. 

Wednesday 22- Thursday 23 October

The Toronto fair opens with a big party on Thursday. The event is scheduled to start at 4 pm and the Torontonians are all ready and waiting. They like to do things early, here. Luckily – having done the fair for the last ten years – we know this, and we are ready and waiting too.

Coming back to an art fair year after year is important, especially overseas. You build up loyalty and confidence amongst the local population. And I think Canadians in particular appreciate and enjoy the sense of continuity. It is fun for us too. Certainly we see many old friends and repeat customers. We sell three of our largest artworks during the opening night.  

Tuesday 21 October

A beautiful Canadian Fall day – bright, low sunlight and leaves glowing with every shade of red, orange and yellow. To prepare myself for the rigours of the Toronto International Art Fair I went for a run amongst along the Rosedale gorge. And that was pretty much the last I saw of the glorious Toronto autumn. After that it was off to the Convention Centre – for unloading crates, hanging pictures, and getting ready for the gala opening. 

Monday 20 October

Caught the Porter Air flight up to Toronto on Monday evening. Porter Air is adorable: little propeller planes and 1950s style air-hostesses – and very reasonable ticket prices. The plane is small enough to land almost in the centre of Toronto – on a little island, just off the harbour-front. Instead of getting a bus to the main terminal, you get a little ferry to the shore.  1 DAY SINCE I WAS LAST ON A PLANE.

Sunday 19 October

My friend Belinda and her teenage daughter Gaby are in town too, and although Gaby's main aim is, it seems, to visit every Sephora shop in New York, I insist  that we make a pilgrimage to see the Jeff Koons retrospective at the Whitney. 

It is a total wow. I remember seeing Koons’ exhibition of basket-balls floating in tanks of distilled water, in Cologne back in 1982, and being amazed then. And he has just gone on getting better, bolder and stranger: balloon sculptures, baroque billboard pornography, a life-sized Michael Jackson in porcelain. A genius: he really is the true heir to Duchamp and Warhol. Even Gaby was impressed.

On the highline. 

Saturday 18 October

In New York for the weekend. Breakfast at the Crosby Street Hotel in downtown Manhattan is just like being in the gallery. Well, not quite. Sadly we don’t have eggs benedict (on gluten-free muffin) with freshly-squeezed ‘juice of the day’ back at the gallery. But one is surrounded by stunning Peter Clark collages.

Kit Kemp, the inspirational creator of Crosby Street (and other Firmdale Hotels in London and NY) has long been a huge fan of Peter’s work. And I always swell with reflected pride when I see his works in the hotel here – especially the almost-life-size bull, collaged from old Ordnance Survey maps, hanging above the bar. 

Friday 17 October

A happy day in the gallery working through my daily 200 emails when I suddenly realised that at 3.15 the next day i had to go to New York. I never travel light and am usually accompanied by one suitcase of art. I HAVE NOT BEEN ON A PLANE FOR FOUR DAYS!

[rebeccahossackartgallery]

Thursday, 16 October 2014

Andrew Mockett’s new work is delivered to the gallery from the framer. It looks stunning.

   Wednesday 15 October 2014

My Birthday! I float from one treat to another. Breakfast at Honey & Co with my friend Arje. Her son has drawn me a fantastic birthday card with a shark on it. (We have a shared fascination with/terror of them.) Matthew gives me a beautiful Lucite whale, made by the Brazilian artist and inventor Abraham Palatnik.  A special lunch in the gallery – with different dishes made by all the girls. And then – as a special treat – for dinner, TWO gluten-free pizzas eaten in front of the Telly, while watching TWO back-to-back episodes of OITNB. Bliss.

   Tuesday 14 October 2014

I’m back in Bishop’s Stortford – to give a lecture on Aboriginal Art to local NADFAS. It turns out to be a charming little town. Built at a ford on the River Stort, it has – since the Middle Ages - belonged to the Bishop of London. The lecture is a big success. They have already asked me back to give another talk – in 2016! Nobody loves planning ahead more than a NADFAS committee. 

Monday 13 October 2014

Return to London and the rain. It is a rude shock after five days of blue skies, palm trees and eating dinner under a full moon in the Piazza. Coming back into town on the Stansted Express we pass through Bishop’s Stortford. It looks damp and depressing.

Wednesday 8 October- Monday 13 2014

PALERMO

After a 6 am visit to the gym, I boarded the Stansted Express, to catch the midday Ryan Air flight to Palermo – for a few days with holiday with Matthew and his parents. YIPEE!

I love Byzantine Mosaics – and was thrilled to see my namesake, Rebecca, tending to the camels. I have always felt an affectionate affinity with camels when I have come across them in the Australian outback. 

Why can’t Camden have marble paving-stones. They are lovely to walk on, beautiful, and much harder-wearing than concrete.

 Walking through the vegetable market, I couldn’t help but be reminded of our artist Rob Tucker.

 Can you see me in my Dolce and Gabana camouflage?

On Friday night, the Italian football team were in town, and I had my photo taken with Andrea Pirlo, the bearded midfield maestro (England’s nemesis).

Tuesday, 7 October 2014

LAPADA, of which I am a director, was having its quarterly Board Meeting at 10.30 am. I was determined to be early, but people kept arriving at the gallery from the moment we opened the door at 9.30, that is was impossible to get away. I missed the debriefing about the fair, although I gathered that everyone was really happy with the event, and proud at how well it had gone.

I raced back to the gallery in time to oversee the departure of the Miami shipment. And when I next looked at my watch it was 6.30 and I was already late for my Philosophy Course.

The classes are held at the Rudolph Steiner Centre in Regent’s Park Road. The centre was built according to Steiner’s principles – with curved walls and an absence of straight lines. It was very nice to be in a building that follows the shapes of nature – trying to follow the cosmology of Plato.

The tutor was slightly balding and slightly diffident – and we edged ourselves cautiously into a discussion about the concept of harmony and the meaning of beauty.

As we did so I couldn’t help noticing how the beautiful Steiner-esque trapezoid windows had been blighted by the introduction of crude straight double-glazing bars.

It is a constant battle to maintain either Harmony or Beauty – against the onslaughts of Double Glazing and other practicalities. 

Monday, 6 October 2014

Back to rain, and back to work. It will be a busy week with two major shows opening on Thursday at Conway Street: the Danish abstract-painter Moten Lassen, and the Canadian figurative painter, Andy Dixon. Then on Friday, the Korean artist Song Nyeo Lyoo has her show opening in the Charlotte Street gallery.  And there is also a large shipment to prepare for the art-fair in Miami.

  We sat around drinking green tea discussing all the things that needed to be done – and suddenly it was 12.30 and we hadn’t actually done anything!

Saturday 4- Sunday 5 October 2014

 A second consecutive day in the gallery: this is great. It rained all day Saturday, and Charlotte Street was pretty much deserted. But to have peace and quiet, and a chance to sit in the gallery and look at the pictures – or carved owls – is a real treat.

 Kirk Truman from the Fitzrovia Journal (one of my favourite periodicals) called in to see me with a film-crew. They are making a video about Fitzrovia and he wants some footage of me. The ever-expanding world of video is an exciting one. They introduce me to ‘Selby’ – a website with videos of people doing (more or less) interesting and curious things. We spend some of the afternoon watching a woman gathering seaweed to turn into natural dyes.

Sunday was gorgeous and autumnal – and I spent my day riding round London on my bicycle looking at things. At the Decorative Arts Fair in Battersea I studied how to make a floor for an art-fair stand out of builder’s scaffolding-planks. What a great idea…. I also bought a Wedgewood glass Scotty dog. 

Friday 3 October 2014

For the first time in months I had a full day in the gallery. Georgia, Isy and I descended into the basement at Charlotte Street – which we use for on-site storage - to organize the stock for the next flurry of upcoming art-fairs.

  The basement of the gallery has a powerful aura. During the 1960s it was used by a print-making cooperative. Bridget Riley, David Hockney, Terry Frost and other luminaries of the 60s’ art-scene used to come and fraternize and make their prints here.

  It is hard work moving pictures around,  and attempting ‘to make chaos cosmic’. I am always amazed though by how much I love tidying. It is hugely satisfying. We were all proud at the end of the day. 

[rebeccahossackartgallery]

Thursday 2 Oct 

Breakfast meeting with Kate from the gallery. She arrives slightly late – as she had overshot her stop on the train, so engrossed was she in David Nicholls’ new novel, Us. The publishers, Hodder, had used our Conway Street gallery as a setting for a short promotional film about David, and gave us several eagerly snapped-up signed-copies of the book as a thank-you.

  On her smart-phone Kate shows me a short video she made in Richmond Park over the weekend. It is full of birds and the happy cacophony of birdsong. It encourages me to believe that London’s birds haven’t disappeared completely; they’ve just moved to the suburbs.

  A day of gallery chores and business. The artist Thomas Allen came in to our Charlotte Street gallery, aglow from just winning the Cass Art Prize at the National Open Art Exhibition (held at Pallant House, Chichester). He wanted to measure up the space for an exhibition he is having early next year, for which he will transform the gallery into a grotto decorated with ‘contemporary cave paintings’. We are all very excited at the prospect.

  I go for a run round the park at the end of the day. I have to wear my baseball cap to stop the low autumn sun from slanting into my eyes. While most of the girls from the gallery head off to the O2 to see Lee Evans, Matthew and I stroll over to Marylebone High Street. We are meeting the art-dealer Linda Blackstone, and her husband Mike, for a belated celebration of Linda’s 70th Birthday in the ingeniously faux-Viennese setting of ‘Fischers’.

  Linda is preparing herself for the fast of Yom Kippur – the Day of Atonement – so a substantial feast of schnitzels and fries is particularly welcome. I always love hearing tales of Jewish family life – and Linda is full of them. Living in the heart of London, though, and working in the art-world, it is easy to assume that anti-Semitism is somehow a fading memory – a relic of an intolerant and unenlightened past. I’m shocked to learn that the synagogue in Willesden which Linda attends – in common with almost all synagogues the UK – has to employ security guards and special constables to prevent abuse and vandalism. It is a disturbing thought – and one heightened rather by the elaborately Mittel-European turn-of-the-century décor of the restaurant. 

[rebeccahossackartgallery]

Wed 1 Oct

  Breakfast meeting at Honey & Co with Frankie, who has been working as an intern at the gallery for the last couple of months. Exceptionally bright and hardworking, with a sunny disposition and good strong northern vowels, she is very impressive. I have decided to offer her a job. She is thrilled. And so am I. I know that she will be able to bring exciting new things to the gallery.

  Then it’s a general staff meeting – to welcome Frankie as a full-member of the team, and to plan the coming weeks – and months. Isy (who really is a ‘Domestic Goddess’ – somewhere between Aphrodite and the young Mary Berry) has baked a gluten-free chocolate cake for the occasion. It is delicious – and disappears in rapid stages as we discuss next-year’s art-fair schedule (Paris or Seoul? Or both?), and whether Private Views are a thing of the past.

  Everyone then heads off to their appointed tasks. I settle down to work through my emails. I receive over two hundred a day – and, what with the busy schedule of the art-fair during the past week – it has been hard to keep on top of them. (I don’t want to be one of those dealers hunched over their computer at an art-fair. It is important to be outward-looking and welcoming on the stand.) Going through the daunting backlog there are some nice surprises – new sales leads, follow-up from the fair, and several messages from old friends who have been enjoying the blog!

  Before I know it is past six o’clock. Encouraged by Tom, the personal trainer, I have agreed to observe a ‘Sober October’. So, in order to ease the accumulated stress of the day, I take myself off to the gym. First, though, I call Matthew. I know he is going to the football tonight (Champions League), so I make sure he leaves me a nice supper to come home to: sweet-potatoes, broccoli, sweet corn and other good things. Also I make him promise to get home in good time after the match so that we can watch another episode of ‘Orange is the New Black’ before bed.

  In my bath after the gym, I check my text messages. There is one from Frankie: she has capped an excellent day by selling a large Phil Shaw print.  

[rebeccahossackartgallery]

 Tuesday 30 September.

Am at St Pancras station by 8.30 am, to catch a train to St Albans. I am paying a studio-visit to Dione Verulam. The train is quite astonishingly quick, in barely twenty-minutes I am being picked up by Dione (very tall and very elegant) at St Albans’ station. She whisks me through the Hertfordshire countryside along a fine straight Roman road. Signs of Roman Britain are all around – not just in Dione’s name (Verulamium was the Roman town on the site of which modern St Albans stands). In the grounds of the handsome garden-girt farmhouse where Dione and her husband live there are the impressive remains of a Roman amphitheatre.

  In the studio (a converted barn) Dione shows me her latest work: a series of delightful collages, fashioned from the torn-up remnants of her old paintings. They depict scenes of family – and country – life: windswept Hebridean picnics, bustling hunting scenes, gatherings on the beach. They have a captivating boldness and human vitality about them. I am impressed. We make plans for a show at the gallery (on Conway Street) in February.

  Back in London by lunchtime I have a meeting with the team at the gallery, to make sure we are following up on all the leads from the art-fair. The first two floors at Conway Street have been re-hung, beautifully, by Brett and Georgia – with a mixed show of work by gallery artists. We have a client coming in to view some pieces at four o’clock so Isy goes to buy cakes from ‘The Brazilian Gourmet’ a lovely local café just round the corner on Cleveland Street. (I love them because they produce gluten-free pao de queijo – those delicious little cheese buns that are one of the unexpected delights of Brazilian cuisine.)

  The client, a lovely man from New Zealand, who we had met at the LAPADA fair, duly arrives. He turns out to be horse-lover. (He had owned a winner of the Melbourne Cup!) So he is impressed to find a life-size horse made out of scrap metal by the sculptor Iain Nutting standing in the middle of the gallery. He is also delighted by a new Phil Shaw print, made up of books written by authors with horse-related names: Jon Canter, Hartley Withers, Alice Stirrup, Luc van Hoof etc. He decides he needs to have it.

  In the midst of these deliberations another couple arrive – radiating energy, brightness and charm. It is Lee Evans and his wife, Heather. They are on the track of flower-painting by Hepzibah Swinford. We all have a jolly tea-party with our Brazillian cakes – Lee bringing a definite touch of the Mad Hatter to the occasion.

  It is past seven by the time we break up. Matthew has had to head off without me to go to the launch party for Christopher Sykes’ brilliant biography of Hockney. I am sad to miss out on the occasion – but fit for nothing but an early supper and some R&R.

  Matthew returns – with tales of the glamour of the book-launch – and also a DVD boxed set of a new American series called ‘Orange is the New Black’ – a comedy drama set in a women’s prison. After two episodes and a cup of camomile tea I am hooked.