A SILVER-PLATED COPPER-MOUNTED OAK CONTRABASS BALALAIKA

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This lot will be removed to Christie’s Park Royal.… Read more

The StorytellerBy Damian HoareTwo men looked out from their prison bars; one saw mud, the other saw stars.I remember our father tirelessly repeating the above to us throughout our childhood. For those who knew him it will be quite clear which of these two men he represented and have little doubt too that before long he would have weaved enough magic into that cell that his companion, too, would soon lift his eyes. And when he did, they would be guided through the constellations until they were wide open to the wonders of the world, to its enormous purpose and possibilities.This ability of my father to transform every moment – however ordinary or mundane - into a celebration was lent to every dynamic throughout his life, and so often the means by which he would achieve this was his extraordinary gifts as a storyteller. Few who spent any time with him would leave without their head held higher, their mind enriched and a broad smile stretched by tales old and new, funny and tragic, true and imagined.Of all these stories it was those of his life that were most fascinating of all, and to listen to them was to be transported through time and place. They took us into the smoky bars of bohemian Paris where he once sang his songs to earn his keep, onto the trains and buses on which he spent days crossing Europe to reach the Islamic lands that so fascinated him, into the intrigue of Istanbul and the wilds of Iran, through the captivating quirks and charms of the London art market, onto the building blocks of museums in the Middle East, and to the sides of his teachers whose memories glowed brightest of all.So entwined into these stories of his life were those of the objects which passed through his hands and which he revered with such respect; each of these stories a tribute to how they had all informed, entertained, thrilled and nourished him. He once wrote he believed the function of a work of art was ‘to make us dream’ and I’m sure that sentiment was entirely mutual; these objects arrived at his door because of his ability to understand them, to recognise their true function and beauty, and to present them in a way true to both. When eventually they left his watch, they did so re-animated and with a glint in their eye: Every Object Tells A Story, but none left unrewarded.Similarly, the dreams inspired by these objects were often responsible for his greatest triumphs, encouraging him to pursue the improbable, quite often even the impossible. Never was this better illustrated than his eventual success in 1994 to return the so-called ‘Houghton Shahnameh’ – one of the most beautiful manuscripts ever produced - back to the Iranian Government after three years of extraordinary negotiations. To explain how, as was so often his way, he would recite a story:A man walking beside the Caspian Sea observed another man crouched at the sea’s edge, spooning yoghurt from a small tin bowl into the lapping waves. ‘What are you doing?’ he enquired.‘I am trying to turn the Caspian Sea into a lake of durgh [a traditional drink made of yoghurt, water, salt and herbs, for which the correct proportion of each ingredient is essential].’The man said, ‘You are mad, how can you turn the Caspian into a sea of durgh with your small bowl of yogurt?’‘I know,’ said the crouched man, ‘but supposing it takes, what a beautiful durgh it will be!’Despite a career handling a myriad of such masterpieces it was often modest objects to which he was most strongly drawn: ‘we can connect with the whole world on a much more profound level through the possession of even the most modest objects of different cultures,’ he wrote. These were so often the unlikely tools for his greatest ambitions, his search for knowledge and his search for truth. So it also proved with stories - ‘the springboards into infinite mystery’ as he once described a body of Sufi tales he admired above all others. Often it was these he chose to tell us as children and when we asked if the story was true, he would answer: “No it’s not true, it’s truer than true. If something has happened once, you can say that a story about it is true. These stories describe things that are happening all the time. That is why they are truer than true.”I hope the objects in his collection will continue to inspire laughter, thought and illuminate all onto whom they eventually land, as they did my father. With whom in mind let us briefly return to those two men looking out from their prison bars, who are by now bathed in the full light of a harvest moon, their bars vanished between reams of laughter and song, their bellies full of the most delicious durgh they have ever tasted, filled by the bewitching beauty of life, by all its magic.William Robinson, Christie’s International Head of Group, World ArtThe image that first comes to my mind when thinking about Oliver is meeting him one day at Christie’s during the viewing for one of the Islamic sales. I was delighted to see him there as he acted as the eyes of a number of the most important clients in the field. He was looking wonderfully relaxed, healthy and tanned – quite a regular condition for him it always seemed. I bounded up to him and welcomed him, asking, as one does, how things were. Ignoring all the art around us, he launched into a eulogy about the life of a farmer and particularly his olive groves which were giving him such enormous pleasure. Oliver was a natural enthusiast and found very wide interests in which to indulge his excitements. Many of these were in very different, frequently contrasting, fields of art. He spoke with such passion as he discovered each one, forming collections which would then ultimately be for sale, but which he nurtured carefully in the meantime. Thus, on one occasion, visiting him at the Chelsea Gallery I was diverted into the field of Tibetan arhats and monks, the gilt bronze careful sculptural portraits of which he formed a substantial collection. On another visit, it was musical instruments from the Islamic World that had taken his fancy. With each new subject he encouraged you to look again. You appreciated far more as a result, partly through his enthusiasm and partly as a result of his eye which meant that the selection that he had made in the field was visually stunning. It is entirely appropriate that his final exhibitions should have been so eclectic. There is a strong element of autobiography in his selection of pieces, from classic beautiful Islamic manuscripts, arcane almost abstract tribal elements, a camel, musical instruments, and more than a smattering of erotica. Here at Christie’s we are delighted to be hosting his auction, in the Rooms in which he began his life in the art world. It was here that he founded the Islamic Art department that, following in his footsteps, it has been my pleasure to run. We are really pleased that the sale includes the magnificent Behzad manuscript; it also has the Rupert Cup that was his constant companion in the last years, as well the silver memento mori pomander reputed to be from James II. We hope that each lot reflects an aspect of Oliver, each has its own Oliver story.Oliver Hoare - Aristocrat of the Spirit By Cyril Humphris "I suppose that those who develop an interest in spiritual matters are born with this tendency inherent in them. Looking back, it seems irrefutable, since from an early age it was clear to me that the spiritual dimension of life was by far the most important aspect of human existence". There were many Oliver Hoares and throughout his life they exerted a fascination on men and women of all ages from every walk of life. Oliver was at ease with everyone and he made no distinctions. He had all the gifts. His brilliant intelligence ranged not merely over his special interest in the Islamic world but encompassed music, boxing, (at which he excelled when at Eton), archery, falconry, botany, printmaking - at which he became an adept - and so much else. His curiosity devoured new experiences and new knowledge. But then his imagination would transform this knowledge into Oliver’s own original story. Because for Oliver everything was part of a story. To be present when Oliver took a work of art in his hands and spoke was to witness a magician at work - a magician who had thought deeply about his subject and who surprised with the unexpected fact that illuminated his story. How to describe Oliver’s voice for those who never heard him? It was musical but an instrument like no other that had the soothing effect of a lullaby on a new-born child. It had all the notes of the finest claret of which he was a connoisseur and somehow as he caressed the words, he seemed to express the passing of time. As in his graceful written prose he found a way of expressing complex ideas simply so that the listener came way uplifted and informed. He was a born storyteller in direct line from the one described by Tolstoy who sat by his grandmother’s bedside and every night began a new story until she fell asleep. Oliver’s Russian mother was an important influence throughout her long life. Her interest in the development of her spiritual intuition led to her becoming a disciple of Gurdjieff and Ouspensky. Oliver’s father Reginald Hoare belied his traditional appearance and upper-class background by joining in his wife’s quest for an awakening of the interior life. Both Oliver’s parents had careers in intelligence and the parallel world of espionage shares similarities with the world of arcane knowledge and mysticism that can only be penetrated by the initiates after following many false trails. Idries Shah, whose classic work on Sufism - that situates it as a mode of thought beyond the frontiers of Islamic mysticism – and his brother Omar Ali-Shah were to become friends and an inspiration to Oliver and his mother. Their magnetic personalities exercised a determining influence on their lives and Oliver spoke of them as among the great men of the twentieth century. I first met Oliver when he joined Christie’s in the 1970s. With his black hair cascading to his shoulders and his impeccable casual chic he left a trail of broken hearts. Not intentionally, for Oliver was always the most considerate of companions. What struck me then was his unerring eye. He zeroed in on the unusual and the more interesting of the works of art and seemed to know things that I did not know. Where had he acquired all this knowledge? His friend of that time Bruce Chatwin was also a connoisseur of the unknowable, but I always felt that he learnt from Oliver not only how to appreciate the Oliver mysteries that are in plain sight but also his much-lauded literary gifts bear the imprint of Oliver’s clarity of expression.Oliver sang for his supper when a student in Paris with songs he had composed and accompanying himself on his guitar. He more than once had Jean-Paul Sartre and Simone de Beauvoir rapt among his listeners at La Coupole. Juliette Greco - the muse of Saint Germain - became an ardent admirer and friend. The casually elegant young Englishman with just sufficient a trace of an accent cut a memorable swathe in the nightlife of Paris at that time. He read widely and remembered. He had devoured the classics but was always seeking out the unconventional and alternative point of view. I once tried to catch him out by asking him if he had read Wilkinson’s book on the first printings of the Syriac New Testament and he responded by quoting from it. He committed reams of poetry to memory and could recite from many of Shakespeare’s plays. No one had a wider circle of acquaintances and friends. He was an inveterate traveller and as a young man he did it the hard way. On his frequent journeys to Iran and the other countries of the near east he would spend several days on trains. He was like a magnet to strangers. I recall more than once walking with him in the street and his being approached usually by a young woman. Oliver was always polite and helpful and would ask a question or two and the stranger would go away having learnt something, for Oliver was a born teacher.I had the good fortune to spend time with Oliver during the years that his life was drawing to a close. Oliver had become reflective and said more than once how fortunate he was to have met Diane and without whose support he would not have been successful. In all my years in the art world Oliver stood head and shoulders above us all. The breadth of his knowledge and understanding of works of art has never been equalled and for those of us who knew him he will forever be an inspiration.Giuseppe EskenaziI first met Oliver Hoare in the basement of Christie’s in the very late 1960s while he was examining some Persian carpets. He had an insatiable thirst for discovery. Soon after, he was in charge of all Islamic art, an area which he pioneered for the auction house before embarking on a hugely successful career as an independent dealer.Throughout our friendship Oliver was perhaps the greatest enthusiast on whatever subject he chose. Our lives were the richer for having known him.Kjeld Folsach, Director, The David CollectionWhen I took over directorship in The David Collection in 1985 Oliver Hoare was already a long and well established name in the Islamic art world and he kept his position as one of the most influential art dealers – if not the most influential – within the field until shortly before he passed away.I can hardly think of a single important collection - public as well as private - where he hasn’t been involved at some point, and in some cases he has been a major formative force. This leading position was partly due to the fact that Oliver Hoare was extremely well connected and knew all the old collections spread over the Middle East, Europe and America, partly due to his own personal taste and feeling for objects of importance – be they rare, intriguing or just beautiful. He has handled myriads of highly important and valuable objects, but a peep into his gallery would also open the visitor’s eyes for the unexpected, unusual, interesting and overseen.This unusual eye was supported by an unusual mind. He knew his field very well but was also extremely open-minded and unorthodox. An evening spent in Oliver’s company was never boring but highly enjoyable and inspiring. Luckily for me I had many of them over the years, and as the objects he sold to our museum, these evenings shine like pearls on a string.

A SILVER-PLATED COPPER-MOUNTED OAK CONTRABASS BALALAIKA

NORTH AMERICAN, EARLY 20TH CENTURY

Details

A SILVER-PLATED COPPER-MOUNTED OAK CONTRABASS BALALAIKA
NORTH AMERICAN, EARLY 20TH CENTURY
With steel strings
69 5/8 in. (177 cm.) high, overall

Provenance

Acquired at the Masterpiece Fair, London, 2015 (winner of the Best Folk Object).

Literature

London, Oliver Hoare, Every Object Tells a Story, 4 May - 5 July 2017, no. 282.

Special notice

This lot will be removed to Christie’s Park Royal. Christie’s will inform you if the lot has been sent offsite. Our removal and storage of the lot is subject to the terms and conditions of storage which can be found at Christies.com/storage and our fees for storage are set out in the table below - these will apply whether the lot remains with Christie’s or is removed elsewhere. Please call Christie’s Client Service 24 hours in advance to book a collection time at Christie’s Park Royal. All collections from Christie’s Park Royal will be by pre-booked appointment only. Tel: +44 (0)20 7839 9060 Email: cscollectionsuk@christies.com. If the lot remains at Christie’s it will be available for collection on any working day 9.00 am to 5.00 pm. Lots are not available for collection at weekends.

Brought to you by

Cosima Stewart

cstewart@christies.com +44 (0)020 7389 2029

Lot Essay

American interest in the balalaika, the traditional Russian string instrument, devloped as result of the performances of Vasily Vasilievich Andreyev, himself a great proponent of Russian folk music and the balalaika, in the early twentieth-century, coinciding with the 1917 Revolution and the influx of Russians to the United States.

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