Streep’s on song
Mark Hudson meets an avid collector who’s donating his remarkable homeful of art to the Hepworth Wakefield
Oscar-winning actress Meryl Streep at the London premiere of Florence Foster Jenkins, in which she plays an heiress who performs as a tone-deaf opera soprano
‘Iwent to the Royal Academy Summer Exhibition in 1972, and I bought a John Nash watercolour. It all just got out of hand from there,” says Tim Sayer, surveying his domain of art with a deadpan shrug. Here are African sculptures, beside ancient Chinese pottery and spectacular pieces of modern ceramics. And on every bit of wall that isn’t taken up by Sayer’s very substantial art library are paintings, drawings and prints by leading 20th-century artists: David Hockney, Sonia Delaunay, Roberto Matta, Robyn Denny and more. And that’s just the sitting room.
Sayer’s art starts right inside the front door, with works by Bridget Riley, Paul Nash and Jacob Kramer, and continues in an unbroken stream throughout the house, with major modern artists in every room: Gerhard Richter in the dining room, Henry Moore in the kitchen, Robert Motherwell, Sol Le Witt and Louise Bourgeois on the upper landing, Anthony Caro on the bathroom door and Alexander Calder, Antoni Tapies and Antony Gormley in what he refers to picturesquely as “the bog”.
When I heard that West Yorkshire’s Hepworth Wakefield was planning an exhibition of 100 works to celebrate a recent bequest, I assumed the donor would be some muck-and-brass local businessman with a mansion in the Dales. I certainly didn’t expect to find such riches in an anonymous house in a quiet north London street.
Sayer is a quietly spoken, 70-yearold retired BBC journalist of modest means, who has been doggedly acquiring domestically scaled art works for over half a century.
“There’s no big plan,” he says. I just buy what appeals to me at a given moment.” If Sayer’s house sounds like a profusion of insane – if expensive – clutter, the overall effect is curiously satisfying, with an underlying order you don’t at first appreciate.
The dining room, which is mostly abstract, with 16 works by the wonderful British painter Prunella Clough, leads through into the sitting room, where there’s a softer feel, with mostly figurative pieces, including two exquisite watercolours by the underrated British artist Alan Reynolds.
Unlike many modern collectors, Sayers doesn’t use advisers to maximise investment potential, relying instead on his own instincts, so there’s an intimate feeling of how his enthusiasms have developed, between abstract and figurative work and different periods of modern art.
Sayer, who used to write sports reports for Radio 4, likes to play the role of a slightly crusty Middle Englander who wandered into the art world by accident. But it’s clear that behind his bluff façade, he’s highly knowledgeable.
And it’s obvious that a collection like this couldn’t be amassed – even with the shrewdest buying – without considerable expenditure.
“We don’t go on holiday much,” deadpans Sayer. “I bargain with dealers, and generally negotiate payment in instalments over many months. It tends to work out one way or another.”
Sayer’s wife Annemarie, a theatrical costume-maker, points out that when they do go on holiday it tends to be to Venice – for the art Biennale. Not that she’s complaining. “Neither of us are very good at beach breaks.”
As a boy, Sayer was an avid collector (“Clockwork trains, cigarette cards, girlie mags”), but he really caught the bug when, aged 17, he bought a portfolio of 153 prints, including several works by the 17th-century French master Claude Lorraine for 10 shillings (50p). “I’m still getting them framed,” he says.
In time off from his work for the BBC, he worked for galleries, writing catalogue notes and liaising with artists. Art world luminaries, from sculptor Anthony Caro to Tate director Nicholas Serota, have visited him to see the collection – always with delight. He’s become friends with many artists, in some instances paying their studio bills in return for work. “I never feel I’ve done that well out of those sort of arrangements, but…” He gives a what-can-you-do shrug.
Recently he has been confronting the question that eventually hits every serious collector: what happens to his acquisitions when he dies. So last year, he offered his work to the Hepworth Wakefield, and the response was immediately enthusiastic. He will keep his art during his lifetime, with the works held in trust by Annemarie, should he predecease her.
In the meantime, he will carry on buying art. “Collecting really concentrates your mind on what you’re looking at. I can’t imagine anything as horrible as not having art in my life.”
He’s paid artists’ studio bills in return for work. ‘I never feel I’ve done well out of those sort of arrangements’
From April 30. Details: 01924 247360; hepworthwakefield.org