No matter where a watercolour might take you.

It was February 2020, during the half-term break. With the storm Denis whipping through the glass of the coaches I boarded a train at Paddington Station, on my way to a lonely place unknown to most people, and of course to me. All I really knew about that site was what I could actually see in a watercolour hanging in my living room. I was attempting to discover something more about that wonderful spot where nature probably still retained the same essence as when the artist depicted it four decades ago.

I've always been keen on art, ever since I was a high school student. On Friday afternoons, after a hard week's work, while many people socialise in a pub before they start their weekend, I try to lose myself in museums that close their doors very late, such as the Tate Britain or the National Gallery. During the mandatory lockdown, what I missed the most was being able to keep looking at the artworks. I have always wondered why not all the museum websites allow virtual tours. I mean a full experience, in the Google Arts and Culture style, that is, wandering around the rooms online, stopping in front of a painting without anyone bothering you, comparing it with another painting from a different and distant museum, opening it on another page simultaneously.

 

I remember a small chapel in Toledo, Spain, with frescoes by El Greco and in private hands, which was never allowed to be visited. All I could ever see of those paintings were some black and white photographs printed in an old book of art. A collection should always be open for viewing, at least virtually. Even the private ones. A piece of art was created to be enjoyed, and everyone should be able to access it online with an acceptable quality of display. For art researchers it would be a great advantage, indeed. This feeling is what encouraged me to show my small and modest art collection, and at the same time explain the peculiar way in which it was shaped. Although several of the paintings that decorate my walls have a certain worth, the truth is that none of them was acquired in an auction house, nor in an art exhibition, but in a much more random, affordable and curious way, by scouring street markets and charity shops.

 

I will begin this story a little earlier, on a misty morning in October 2019, as I was on my way to work at a school in Portobello Road. It was Friday, and there was still almost an hour left before the school opened its doors. The stallholders in Portobello Road had already started to take their goods out of the vans and arrange them in boxes or around the stalls.

Just outside the school gate something caught my attention. It was a wonderful image, a river scene.  Apparently it was an old and damaged passe-partout that still protected what looked like a print. However, because of the type of paper used and its still vivid colours, I began to think that it might be an original watercolour.

 

I paid what they were asking me, without negotiating, with the risk of acquiring a worthless print.  However, my intuition did not fail me. A little later, with the help of a magnifier, I was able to verify that it was indeed an original watercolour. I also noticed that the artwork was clearly signed, so it was easy to identify its author. That weekend I was even able to find the author’s email, and contacted him, but I will talk about that later.

 

The following Friday I attended school early, and visited the same stall. My astonishment was great when I discovered two more original watercolours by the same author in the same box. Obviously, I acquired them. And so I continued during the following months, for almost a year, without ceasing visiting the Portobello market on any Friday morning, discovering artistic treasures that the rain could have ruined in many cases. During the following months I found some artworks in the poorest conditions, lying on the ground and in contact with the damp asphalt. Some of the paintings required cleaning work. Sometimes I had to remove partial mold stains.

 

I also started to restore the antique frames, and to acquire other antique or vintage ones for the unframed watercolours. I replaced the old and damaged passe-partouts with new acid-free mounts, for better conservation.

 

And then came the Pandemic, in March 2020, and with it the lockdown. I then had the chance to start researching a little more about the artworks I had acquired. But let's start this story with that first watercolour that originated a varied collection of small artworks, some of them with an astonishing story behind, while others still keep their own particular mystery, but all of them gifted with a remarkable artistic quality.

Friday morning at Portobello Market during the lockdown.