The girl in the closet
Art dealer Will Elliott reveals why he hid a 19th-century drawing in his wardrobe
WILL ELLIOTT’S wardrobe conceals a drawing. It’s a piece that the founder of Elliott Fine Art would rather not sell, but it hasn’t been stashed away to hide it from eager collectors. It’s there to avoid matrimonial discord.
A job hazard of being a dealer, admits Mr Elliott, is that you come across too many artworks you love: ‘I’m quite early in my career, so there’s always the feeling that I need to sell everything to keep moving, but, often, you buy a work, you research it, you live with it and you develop a real emotional attachment to it.’ He confesses there are many he still wishes he had, but none tugged at his heartstrings as much as the drawing that’s now in his wardrobe: ‘It’s not necessarily worth a huge sum—it’s simply something that really speaks to me. It’s by an artist called [Théodule-augustin] Ribot, a drawing of his daughter, and I found it in a small auction in America about two years ago. I can remember very clearly I was bidding on it and paid quite a good price for it vis-à-vis the market, but fell in love with it.’
Delighted, he brought it home—only to discover his wife didn’t share his enthusiasm: ‘She really didn’t like it at all; so the compromise was that I could hang it in my wardrobe: I could see it every day, multiple times a day, and she never had to see it.’
Although it may seem a bit of a shame to have a great artwork hidden from sight, ‘it actually works quite well: in the morning, I open the door and it’s the first thing I see, so, for me, it’s rather lovely’.
In fairness, Mr Elliott admits he understands why his wife feels so strongly about the drawing: ‘It’s rather an acquired taste: it’s quite ethereal and a bit haunting.’ Although Ribot (1823–1891) was a realistic artist and frequently painted members of his family in everyday scenes, he often made them dramatic through generous use of chiaroscuro. His approach certainly resonated with many of his contemporaries: Ribot repeatedly exhibited at the Salon, where he won several medals, and received the Legion d’honneur in 1878.
Although he’s still well known in academic circles today, he’s hardly a household name, which, surprisingly, adds to the appeal for Mr Elliott: ‘My favourite artist ever is probably Picasso and obviously, there’s no one more famous than him, but I also really like [those] who are a little bit on the margins, who, for whatever reason, have fallen through the cracks, and Ribot’s definitely one of those. He’s actually a brilliant artist, quite original.’
Indeed, Ribot’s originality may well be the reason why he has descended into relative obscurity. ‘He didn’t fit that neatly into any of the movements in France in the late 19th century; he was in between these movements, a bit of an outsider, which meant he didn’t get the fame I think he deserves.’
Mrs Elliott, however, remains unconvinced: ‘She constantly asks me: “Oh, when are you going to sell that, take it to this art fair, or that exhibition”—but, so far, I’ve resisted.’