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Georgina Coburn posses ten questions to Tony Davidson, asking about the philosophy behind Kilmorack and his debut novel 'Confession of a Highland Art Dealer.'
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Your book is about the gallery as part of a wider ecosystem. How do you feel the story of gallery and glen reflects global changes?
One of the themes of CONFESSIONS is that everything connects. In the book, I connect first with artistic and glen families, and then, as the gallery grows, it connects with more of the world, into something beyond physical geography. The word ‘ecosystem’ is a good one because the health of the gallery (and the world) is measured by a complexity of interrelationships. Like an ancient forest, it is the richness of connections that make it strong. I see art as a battle against simple two-dimensional monoliths. It increases connections.
In your book you describe the way that an 'an art dealer is always surrounded by love, for art is an intoxicating torrent of goodness.' Can you describe the ways that ‘goodness’ has shaped or impacted your own life and how the gallery has developed over the years?
A little of what artists love rubs off on me. The landscape painter’s awe of nature reminds me daily of a larger, longer-lived reality; and the figure painter who explores humanity reminds me of who we are, with all our pride and will. She answers the existential questions or attempts to. Musician and artists are famous for finding ‘the zone’ and that’s a good place to be if you can find it.
2022 marks the 25th anniversary of founding the gallery. What makes it unique on a global stage?
Everything in a good gallery is unique. Every artist, client, paintings, sculpture and frame is bespoke… even the gallery owner is a one-off. Kilmorack is a distinctive and impossible to copy. Over time it has grown from an eccentric but high-quality Highland gallery to an international player. You need to look up when your artists deserve it. Maybe I’ve never excepted things as they are and built something more.
You’ve dedicated the book to ‘lovers, seekers and followers of crooked paths’, how does your own journey reflect a road less travelled and how do you think this has contributed to the success of the gallery?
I liked the word ‘crooked,’ and was thinking of the Zen master Suzuki who brought Buddhism to the USA. He was called the ‘crooked cucumber’ when he was a child. It is important for people to be able to follow their own journey, and I would love to see more people the age I was when I started Kilmorack Gallery (twenty-seven,) to be able to do unusual and beautiful things.
Your current exhibition pays homage to some of the artists you have represented over the years including Gerald Laing. How have artists shaped your approach as an art dealer?
Kilmorack behaves artistically. Gerald Laing one told me that ‘there’s no such thing as good enough’ and I’ve taken that to heart. It’s best to do your best. I believe that a fairy dies every time a company is guided only by financial decisions. True longevity and worth are about more important things than paying safe and chasing a buck.
CONFESSIONS weaves different narrative threads together, including discussion of art, the natural environment and individual artists. When you first sat down to write was there a question you wanted to answer or address?
Writing CONFESSIONS wasn’t a conscience act. I just got up one morning and began to write, and slowly the past began to focus into a journey that lept from story-stone to story-stone. I was keen to explore art in a narrative way and see if ‘show not tell’ would inform in an illicit way. I love stories and it was a chance to play.
Some would say that establishing a gallery is a special kind of madness. What has enabled the gallery to thrive and what do you feel are its greatest assets?
Everything we do is a kind of madness. Our actions are both important and unimportant and should be both remembered and forgotten. I both care, so I do a good job, and don’t care, so I can move on. The maddest are probably the people that follow the straight path.
This part of the world is often described as ‘remote’ or ‘on the edge’. How do the gallery’s artists change that perception?
It can be annoying. I read a comment yesterday about Kilmorack being in the ‘far, far north.’ Really? It’s all relative and sometimes the mass of a city creates a gravity that hard to break free from. Up here, we are more connected than most.
A gallery’s integrity arguably rests on its long-term relationships with artists and clients. How is such a family built and what are its dynamics?
A lot of it is about how far ahead you look. The biggest thrills come from supporting the whole life of an artist… and beyond. Ups and downs, and rest and risk are part of an artists’ growth and a gallery should allow this. It is my nature to look into the distance.
The way you describe the fabric of the building and its renovation almost makes the gallery a character in your book. How does the site and surrounding area nurture you personally and how do you feel it affects exhibiting artists and visitors?
Kilmorack is a wonderful place. If fairies exist, they would be here and helping. They probably do, and the old kirk is deeply beautiful. Current environmental changes from massive companies (SSE and Breedon Aggregates) are hugely upsetting. I worry that the fairies will leave for good (if they exist.)
In starting any creative enterprise what do you need to endure? How do you view the current cultural landscape and how has it changed in the last 25 years? What are some of the opportunities and obstacles for emerging artists?
You need to be a monkey that will let go of one branch and freefall before catching another. An artist’s compulsion to connect and create hasn’t changed, but there are questions about what art is – making or conceptual – that need to be answered. Art Schools and institutions are confused, and this makes it harder for young artists to find their voice and mature artists make ascend into public collections.
How would you describe Kilmorack as a centre of cultural gravity? (Not just talking here about the gallery, but the earth it sits on and the whole glen.) What does it say about the times we are living in?
I see the gallery as a place of learning, a palace of remembering. It’s not just our glen, but the whole planet. There are ecological horrors everywhere and it is good to be feeding truth and beauty into the world to be absorbed in other unpredictable places.
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Some questions to Tony about the book: Question and Answer
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