My Life In Art
I grew up in a house in the English Midlands with few pictures on the walls, but nothing I recognised as ‘art’, and it was only when I took a job in advertising in London in the mid-1960s that I decided to explore that world. So, on my way to and from work, I dropped into the National Gallery in Trafalgar Square each day and looked at three paintings – yesterday’s, today’s and tomorrow’s. Gradually I got around all that was there, but over time I realised that I was constantly being drawn back to this extraordinary Nativity by Piero della Francesca – so old, yet so modern.

Piero della Francesca, ‘Nativity’, 1470-75, National Gallery, London

Based in London, as soon as I was able, I moved into jobs that would involve international travel, partly in order to expand my awareness of different artists and art around the world. In every city I visited, I made time to visit local art museums and galleries, and it was on an early trip to New York in the early 1970s that I turned the corner at MoMA and was confronted by this dazzling Abstract Expressionist work by Jackson Pollock. Quite unprepared for its power and impact, I remember going into a sort of trance in front of it.
Jackson Pollock, ‘One: Number 31’, 1950, Museum of Modern Art, New York
I first arrived to live and work in Australia in March 1981 and soon discovered that there had been a flourishing ‘Impressionist’ movement there with its own characteristics ― driven by the unique climate, topography and light of the country. Of course, I was already fully aware of impressionism, so long as it was French ― the only kind that seemed to find its way into art books up to that time, so the fact that there had been a flourishing movement in Australia (and New Zealand) was complete news to me. A great favourite is this landscape by Arthur Streeton.

Arthur Streeton, ‘Golden Summer, Eaglemont’, 1889, National Gallery of Australia, Canberra

I first arrived to live and work in Australia in March 1981 and soon discovered that there had been a flourishing ‘Impressionist’ movement there with its own characteristics ― driven by the unique climate, topography and light of the country. Of course, I was already fully aware of impressionism, so long as it was French ― the only kind that seemed to find its way into art books up to that time, so the fact that there had been a flourishing movement in Australia (and New Zealand) was complete news to me. A great favourite is this landscape by Arthur Streeton.
H Walter Barnett, ‘Portrait of Nellie Melba’, 1903, National Portrait Gallery, London
For a long time I have been fascinated by the short stories of Katherine Mansfield. The best known portrait of the writer was painted in 1918 by her friend, the American artist Anne Estelle Rice – always visited on trips to Te Papa, the New Zealand National Museum in Wellington. Quite separately, over many journeys to Scotland, I would visit the gallery in Perth devoted to Scottish Colourist JD Fergusson, gradually coming to realise that Rice and Fergusson had very similar styles and techniques. In fact, the two artists had met and become lovers in Paris around 1907. While Fergusson and three other artists have become celebrated as ‘Scottish Colourists’, Anne Estelle Rice’s work remains neglected. Because she isn’t Scottish? Because she is a woman?

Anne Estelle Rice, ‘Portrait of Katherine Mansfield’, 1918, Museum of New Zealand Te Papa Tongarewa

For 25 years my wife Sophie Wilson was administrator of the Barber Institute of Fine Arts at Birmingham University, and over that time the wonderful Barber became the art museum (and concert hall) I visited most frequently in the world, many of its paintings and sculptures becoming good friends. Former director of the Barber, Richard Verdi, made several major acquisitions for the collection, my personal favourite being ‘Isaac blessing Jacob’ by Matthias Stom, a still little-known Dutch follower of Caravaggio. Aged, blind Isaac wishes to bless his favourite son, Esau, but Isaac’s wife Rebecca substitutes her favourite son, Jacob. She slips goat skin gloves on to Jacob’s hands, so that he will feel to Isaac like the hairy Esau. Notice Rebecca’s raised finger, cautioning us to keep the secret …
Matthias Stom, ‘Isaac blessing Jacob’, c. 1635, Barber Institute of Fine Arts, University of Birmingham
This blog post was first published by The Heseltine Gallery, Middleton Cheney in 2021