‘I foolishly lost thousands in a gold mine.. now I only put my money into art’

One of the last Holocaust survivors, artist MAURICE BLIK has taken a lifetime to process what happened to him and his family in BergenBelsen concentration camp in 1945. At the age of 82, he has written what’s described as an uplifting book on his experiences – The Art Of Survival – a first-hand narrative of the horrors of the camp, seen through the eyes of a child, and a remarkable life that followed. Maurice has done very well in later life, apart from an ill-advised investment in a Costa Rican goldmine. His huge bronze sculptures sell for six-figure sums.

What did your parents teach you about money?

That there are more important things in life. I am Jewish and was born in Amsterdam in 1939. At the age of four, I was carted off to Camp Westerbork and then to Belsen concentration camp with my mother and my older sister. We were lucky to survive. My father, a salesman who travelled around Holland selling car parts to garages, was taken from us and we never saw him again.

She didn’t have any papers, but somehow she persuaded people after the war that she was British. I grew up in North Harrow, Middlesex [and] my mother worked at the local Kodak factory. Eventually, she married my stepfather who was a diamond polisher. We weren’t poor. We had enough to eat, we had a roof over our heads and clothes on our backs. But we weren’t wealthy either. We were a working-class family. And it was fine.

Have you ever struggled to make ends meet?

Yes. When I was 16, we moved to the United States. For complicated reasons, a year later I came back to England and started art school. I rented a bedsit in a house and got a job in a pub in the evenings to feed and clothe myself. I also did odd jobs fixing cars and working in coffee shops. It was a struggle at times. I didn’t have any family to turn to when I needed a good feed. But I do remember the pub landlady giving me free sandwiches.

Have you ever been paid silly money?

No. Quite the contrary. I’ve spent endless hours making a sculpture and then selling it for the equivalent of ten pence an hour. It’s unpredictable how long it can take to make something and sometimes you don’t get paid at all.

I’ve spent weeks on pieces that don’t work out and get thrown back in the clay bin.

What was the best financial year of your life?

It was 2018. That year, as well as selling several pieces, I got commissioned to make a huge bronze sculpture, For Love Of Cyprus, for the outside of an office block in Cyprus. It is 6.5 metres high. In total, my fee and the casting and the transport costs probably came to around £500,000. That was brilliant and I felt well-rewarded.

What is your biggest money mistake?

I foolishly invested £50,000 in a gold mine in Costa Rica about 10 years ago. It went bankrupt, I think there was a political coup and my money disappeared. That taught me not to speculate. So I don’t invest in stocks and shares. Whenever I get spare cash, I invest in myself by casting a couple more limited edition bronzes. They can sell for anything up to £300,000 [but] I can’t tell in advance if a sculpture is a saleable piece or not.

Do you save into a pension?

No. I get the [UK] state pension and a small work pension. Theoretically, I could live on bread and cheese on the pension I receive. But I don’t want to just exist – I want to live. I’m 82 and I have no ambition to retire. I will work until the day I’m not going to be here.

Do you work because you rely on your income from sculptures?

No. If I didn’t make sculpture, emotionally I don’t know what I’d do. I’ve got to do something with my time after all. I don’t have a dog to take for a walk and if I did I’d find that infinitely boring. I have never made sculptures to make a living. I do it because it gives meaning to my life.

What is the one little luxury you treat yourself to?

It’s a glass of single malt whiskey. I like Laphroaig. It costs about £35 a bottle.

What is your No.1 financial priority?

To stay solvent and make sure that my family, my kids and my wife are comfortable when I’m gone.