- Philip Lucas
- May 1
- 5 min read
Updated: May 5
I have long admired the eye of Phillip Lucas. Anyone working in antiques, or indeed with even a passing interest in beautiful things, would be mad not to take notice of his collecting. He has an extraordinary knack for uncovering some of the most evocative and exquisitely made objects to be found in the UK. So when I heard that his Dreweatts sale was scheduled for May, I knew we had to draw your attention to this most precious catalogue. There won’t be many auctions of this calibre; it’s a lesson in objects, even if you’re not able to bid. And if you are — bon chance!
My collecting was initially funded from the proceeds of my paper round and a covert under-spend from my school dinner money. The first purchase, a forlorn early 19th century writing box, generated a great deal of excitement. I ran home from school to verify that the "secret" drawers were still actually empty. 40 years have passed and I am yet to find anything of value in a "secret" drawer. I am still looking. The writing box clashed with the school boy contents of my bedroom. It was clear that my environment needed to change. The process of discovery and revision continues. In the early 1980s I had no idea that it would bring me to this point.
Several people have asked me to explain why I have decided to sell particular objects in this auction. I suspect that most collectors have a restless energy and enthusiasm. Many items in my sale exert a powerful force of attraction, but I have decided to break some eggs and to make a new omelette. The creative process must continue.
I have always been attracted to objects with personal inscriptions which evoke the lives of previous owners. There are numerous examples in my sale, including several early dated tobacco boxes, but my personal favourite is the narrow bureau bookcase (Lot 126). It is covered in 18th century graffiti and came from a dormitory in Winchester College, lists of boys' names are still attached to the insides of the doors. One of the earliest prominent inscriptions dates to 1771. It is possible that some of the names may have been inscribed by future Prime Ministers, when they were being naughty. The graffiti is reminiscent of the Upper School in Eton College. This is more than a piece of furniture: it is a unique document and a little piece of English history.
I confess that I have always been attracted to grand 18th century architectural pieces of furniture. Frankly, Blenheim Palace wouldn't be big enough for me and the fact that I am only 5 ft 2 (and a half) inches tall has obviously got nothing to do with it.
One of my favourite pieces in the auction is the large Palladian serving table in the style of William Kent (Lot 74). In the post-war years, it would have been described as "ponderous", but the design strengths of "Kentian" furniture are now widely appreciated. The monumental legs are carved with fish scales and give the impression that the maker was more comfortable with carving in stone, rather than wood. The central lion's mask looks as if it has been transplanted from the facade of the Ca' Rezzonico in Venice. The lion's smile is both enigmatic and infectious. Is it a snarl or a smile? The scale of the piece indicates that it was made for an important house and it is reputed to have come from Knocklofty House in Ireland.
Eagles were a popular Palladian motif in the early 18th century because they were the symbol of ancient Rome. The carved eagle in Lot 377 exerts a proud upward force to lift a hefty marble slab. As you can imagine, it has always been a comfort to know that my Arita vase (Lot 56) was being supported by the eagle companion to the Roman God, Jupiter.
When I eventually arrived in Spitalfields, I painted the panelled walls of my 18th century house in appropriate drab and stone colours. The neutral shades were intended to act as a foil for the mellow hues of walnut furniture. I then discovered some 18th century "Chinoiserie" style wallpaper, concealed under later panelling. I was immediately struck by the vibrancy of the unfaded colours, which would have complimented the colourful Spitalfields silks produced on the premises. I wanted to re-introduce those colours and patterns into the house and it occurred to me that similar designs appeared on early Chinese ceramics. I therefore decided to acquire some examples of Chinese porcelain from the Kangxi period (1662-1722) and also some pieces of English Delftware pottery.
Lot 115 is a good example of late 17th century Kangxi porcelain. It is decorated in the "Famille Verte" ("green family") palette. The sophisticated decoration and colourful enamels make this a particularly attractive example. In England, we attempted to emulate expensive Chinese porcelain - often with amusing results. The colourful painted designs on English "Delftware" were free-spirited and often naïve. The extraordinary painted bird on Lot 124 is an endearing example of the genre.
The colours on the Chimney Board (Lot 218) are also particularly evocative of the early 18th century. It is a rare survivor of early naïve art and there is a similar example in the V&A. Such designs also appear on English needlework. Lot 379 is a nice example.
The 18th century hall chairs (Lot 275) exemplify the "English Country House Style" and their elegant design is influenced by Italian "Sgabello" hall chairs. The pierced backs and attractive green painted decoration are both desirable features and they make a big visual impact in a room.
I will remember all of the items that I have sold. I don't know where my little writing box is now, but I hope that it is generating as much excitement for someone else as it did for me. Its subtle charms would be more than a match for a PlayStation. My search for interesting objects will certainly continue and I will do my best, as always, not to look in the rear-view mirror.
In what ways can historical objects, like graffiti-covered furniture or Chinoiserie wallpaper, challenge our assumptions about the lives and Block Blast Online tastes of people in past centuries?