Author: Michael Chappell

The great and the good may wax eloquent about Maui no ka oi, or the glories of Hualalai on the North Kona coast, but for us, the quintessential vacation is a week in Honolulu at the Royal Hawaiian Hotel, in the midst of Waikiki. No argument, the approach is via the expanse of high rise condo and hotel developments that line miles and miles of Ala Moana Boulevard and then Kalakaua, but once on the beach, with the infinite Pacific in front of you, and the outline of Diamond Head beside you- well, the composite makes for something iconic that could be dissembled, but why? We love it, and for us of course, that’s sufficient. For over 20 years, we’ve made Honolulu, and usually the Royal Hawaiian an annual, sometimes twice annual, pilgrimage site. As times being the way they were in 2009, we gave Honolulu, and indeed any sort of time off, a miss. Consequently, our break last week we enjoyed inordinately- once we got into it. That’s a problem for us, as for most people, I think- the necessary break in routine takes a few days to take effect, and, really, despite the week’s length, the first two don’t count. I suppose they do count, though, being an essential segue between keyed up, and relaxed.

Relaxed, yes, but brains not entirely gelatinous, we were keen to take the measure of Honolulu, given how dependent the entire state of Hawaii is on tourism. We presumed that as the state’s capital and commercial centre, any dearth of tourist dollars would manifest itself there, and we were on the lookout. We aren’t disaster groupies, but our fondness for the place makes us realize it can’t exist as a time warp, and requires a certain amount of change as evidence of vitality. But not too much. Indeed, our own interests in the Hawaiian natural ecology seems to match an increasing trend in the larger world. As a younger man, it seemed that the Hawaiian landscape was more properly to serve as an exotic backdrop for mainstream western culture. Now in my sixth decade, the natural world increasing informs my consciousness and feeds my spirit- or perhaps it always did, just that now I’m sufficiently meditative to hear what the world is actually saying. Age is magically and happily compensatory, isn’t it? What one loses in strength and pulchritude, one gains in wisdom and spirit. More than compensatory- for there is nothing that I’ve lost in physical vitality that I would trade even one scintilla of wisdom to regain.

Certainly in Waikiki, the small numbers of tourists was noticeable, even outright startling. We were told by visitors transiting through that in the neighbor islands the dearth of tourists was even more apparent. While not exactly a ghost town, we did see a number of building works, some of considerable size, that had come to a halt- not slowed, but stopped, including a massive residential and commercial complex in the Ward Estate, just behind Val Ossipoff’s timelessly rendered IBM Building. When the larger adjacent, and now mothballed, structure is complete, if it ever is, it will visually engulf the entire vista along this particular stretch of Ala Moana. The scale of the building is so inappropriately large it can only be described as decadent. The use of the term ‘decadent’ to describe any building always puts me in mind of the first use I had ever heard, to describe the overblown baths of Caracalla in Rome as a hallmark of the decadence of Roman architecture. One can only hope, then, that this decadent structure, if it isn’t razed, represents the final end of the line. More tomorrow…

It is gratifying to find that there really is a generational change occurring amongst buyers of artwork and English antiques. I know that our own experience is at best anecdotal, but it is a clearly demonstrable phenomenon for Chappell & McCullar this year. We have enjoyed visits with a number of younger collectors that we’ve welcomed children in tow, and sent them out with something to try out, wrapped snugly in the back of the SUV along with the stuffed animals. Mercifully, most of these sales have stuck.

It must be something in the air- some bucolic aroma I guess that has displaced the miasma of last year- as age is not the only common feature. Young, starting a family, and purchasing a new, family-size house are features they all seem to share. Mind you, most of these are sales that have resulted following, shall we say, protracted pricing discussions. That said, we all want to preserve our cash so that someone wants a bit extra is understandable. If someone feels as though they’ve made a purchase at a good price, they will further be favorably disposed to continue to grace us with their custom. That’s fine by me. Keith and I would like to have the opportunity to make a sale or two next year, as well.

David Moss reports that Masterpiece London has a full compliment of luxury goods dealers for its inaugural show, running from its preview night on 23 June through 29 June. This fair, organized by a number of the leading lights of the late, lamented Grosvenor House, should be an improvement in a number of ways, most notably with the huge marquee at the Chelsea Barracks venue dwarfing the cramped space of the Grosvenor House grand ballroom. This sounds sort of a simple thing, but I find that nearer to Knightsbridge a good thing, too, with the fair a short stroll down Sloan Street from Harvey Nichols, or a hop and skip from the Sloan Square tube station.

Despite a number of familiar names, the overall juxtaposition will be a profound change from Grosvenor House, with the theme of the fair luxury goods. Jewelry and the best in new bespoke items will be on offer, mixed in with fine period decorative arts. Heavily mixed in, I should say, as the overwhelming furniture component that was the mainstay of Grosvenor House will not give way, exactly, but certainly make room for a broader selection of material. This makes considerable sense, to my mind, as a new look with a different range will doubtless attract a different type of buyer, and hopefully more of all types.

Mind you, the changed fair, while it attracts new buyers, might run the risk of running off traditional punters looking forward to seeing, albeit different pieces, something typologically similar from year to year. Perhaps, but, frankly, with the bright new look of the fair, I suspect that attendance will be strong if for no other reason that the fair is brand new. Once in, though, with a vision of how brilliantly the new venue promises to showcase all types of material from all periods, whether an early 18th century walnut bureau or a 1960’s Cartier sparkler, the Masterpiece fair will be assured success.

We’ve wound down our Jump Start sale, with this coming Monday the last day. The ides of March? No oracular visions, so we did not beware. If anyone else had presentiments, they ignored them, too, as the sale has been pretty well received. There are, I am happy to report, a fair number of buyers of English antiques abroad in the land.

What’s interesting, too, is that our buyers seem to be of a pleasing demographic, falling into what a decade ago was termed the X generation. As I recall, they were, as a group, characterized by disillusionment with the materialism of their baby-boomer parents. Club culture at night, and slacking off during the day does not seem to mesh, however, with the body of our younger collectors.

But, then, it occurred to me that our cadre of collector customers all share a similarity of interests, and that age doesn’t really signify. What does, though, is the commonality of purpose that the word ‘collector’ implies. Keith and I started out as collectors, and our galleries are the ultimate expression of our own collecting bent. We can, therefore, through discussions with us allow someone not less passionate, but perhaps less acquisitive than Keith and me to benefit from our avocation. It’s interesting, having a word with a colleague in the antiques trade yesterday, he opined how well off a collector is that links up with a dealer with whom they feel comfortable, as that dealer will put in front of them in short order items that the collector, on his own, may take years to find.

And, frankly, Keith and I do that nearly every day, suggesting items to collectors. We speak to a certain few collectors weekly, and some almost daily. It is a joyous interchange, I can tell you.

I had a pleasant chat with a young lady, a talented instrumentalist who plays for several orchestras in the Midwest, wherein we both decried the lack of funding for the arts, particularly outside major urban areas. The NEA and the NEH, with woefully limited budgets, provide grants where they do the most good for the most people. Consequently, funding tends to puddle in only the biggest cities who also are possessed of a larger donor base, both corporate and individual. Where the arts in San Francisco, say, are relatively well off, her near neighbor, poor, benighted Fresno, has recently had one of its major museums closed.

Native Fresnan that I am, it is therefore with profoundly mixed emotions- none of them happy- that I consider the closure of the Fresno Metropolitan Museum. On the one hand, considerable sadness that Fresno is bereft of an institution providing a vista on world culture to the hundreds of thousands locally who cannot visit museums 200 miles distant in Los Angeles or San Francisco. And, the other predominant emotion, anger that museum management and its trustees so egregiously betrayed their responsibility to the community that they allowed a 100% cost overrun on the restoration of the museum, and then, when the money ran out, with monumental hubris key trustees inveigled city authorities into guaranteeing a massive loan upon which the museum defaulted.

The Fresno Bee has over the course of the last couple of months published a number of articles detailing what led up to the loan default and the museum’s ultimate closure this past January. The size of the museum fiasco doubtless prompted a grand jury investigation, the results published today. It makes for interesting reading, particularly if the phenomenon of wrist slapping sets your juices flowing. It is disappointing to find that the report itself masters only the obvious- that the City of Fresno did not employ sufficient due diligence prior to recommending the city approve the museum’s loan guarantee- and falls short of identifying culpability on the part of both the city officials and the trustees whose apparently back-room deal led to the local community holding the bag. It’s interesting, the grand jury report tells us the museum’s ultimate plan for repayment was from voter-approved bond financing. Sure, and I’ll repay my balloon mortgage payment from winning the lottery. What’s sadly ironic in all this is that doubtless at some time before the excreta hit the fan the city must have had the opportunity to step in and administer the museum. Now, of course too late, the city has a derelict building and the community has lost a critical cultural outpost.

With the bulk of foundation, non-local and NGO arts funding concentrated in the major cities, Fresno of necessity requires the diligent engagement and oversight of the local community and its elected officials to ensure the support of the arts and culture. Note that I said ‘local community’ by which I mean to exclude the unnamed ‘community leaders’ cited in the grand jury report. I hope the Fresno Bee continues to investigate those leaders. A small cadre of names will emerge, whose strange and mystical relationship over the years with arts organizations has guided a number of them into peril and near collapse. I hope the larger local community will insist, at long last, they be held to account.