I scroll through hundreds of paintings a day. All of my sourcing is done online, partly because I’m a stay-at-home mum and I can’t drive (yet), so heading off to auction fairs and markets isn’t really an option at the moment. Instead, I spend a lot of time looking through online auctions and marketplaces in the UK and Europe.
Sometimes I’ll have something particular in mind. Today I realised I didn’t have many florals in stock, so I’m paying closer attention to florals as I scroll, but I’m still looking at everything. Mostly I go by gut. I’m waiting for something to make me stop.
I wish I could give you a list of exactly what makes that happen, but I’m not sure I can. It could be the colours, the subject, the brushstrokes or just the feeling of the painting as a whole. Sometimes I only realise afterwards that I’ve been drawn to a particular thing. I remember looking at a group of paintings I’d bought and noticing there was blue everywhere. The nights were getting lighter at the time and I wondered if that had something to do with it.
There’s also a phrase that pops into my head all the time when I’m sourcing: it’s not resolved. I have no idea where I got it from, but I think it every single time I see a painting that has lots of things I like but, for some reason, something feels off about the painting. If I try to work out why afterwards, it might be that one bit is brilliant but another feels awkward, the composition doesn’t quite work or it looks unfinished. At the time, though, I can’t put my finger on it. I just think not resolved and move on.
I suppose that gut feeling has developed from looking at so many paintings. There are certainly paintings I see now that I know would probably sell but I don’t buy because I don’t particularly like them, or they don’t feel right for The Warner Store. On the other hand, if I completely fall in love with something I can get carried away bidding. The paintings in between are where I’m a bit more sensible. If I think something is nice, I’ll work out roughly what I think it is worth and decide what my maximum bid should be.
I didn’t always do that. When I first started buying, the sums often came afterwards. I also couldn’t afford some of the paintings I really wanted. As the business has grown, I’ve been able to buy stronger pieces and I’ve got better at knowing what I can pay for them. There are more costs involved than the hammer price, particularly when you’re buying online, and I have to think about those too.
Framing is one of those additional costs. A frame is really important to me because it can completely lift a painting, but I don’t need it to be perfect. In fact, quite the opposite. I love an old frame with a few knocks and chips. Paysage de Montagne has a heavily damaged frame and I think it looks wonderful. If I love a painting and the frame is lacking, I’ll still bid on it, but I know I may have to get it reframed, so that has to be part of what I’m willing to pay.
I’m probably much less frightened of damage generally than I was when I started. A lot of what might be described as damage is where the character is for me. Scuffs and chips on a frame are signs that it has had a life. A few holes in a canvas don’t necessarily bother me either, nor does craquelure or some missing paint - such as on Yellow Roses and Vue Sur Le Port - if everything is stable. Damage to the canvas itself is more of a consideration, particularly if it is going to get worse, but I don’t think an old painting needs to look perfect.
Craquelure on a Warner Store painting
There’s also the fact that buying online is always a bit of a gamble. You can look at all the photographs and read the condition report, but you don’t really know what you’ve bought until it arrives. And sometimes it doesn’t arrive in the same condition it left in. I once had a painting arrive with the canvas damaged in transit. I mentioned it on Instagram Stories and one of my regular customers messaged to ask whether I would still sell it. I said she could have it for free if she paid the shipping. I could have had it repaired, but the reality is that I’m busy and I knew it would probably sit around for ages waiting for me to sort it out. I’d much rather it was on somebody’s wall being loved, which is where it went.
The artist is much less important to me than you might expect. There are artists I know I like and whose work I look out for, but I don’t research an artist before deciding whether to buy a painting and I’ll happily buy something unsigned. The Warner Store is about decorative art. I’m buying a painting because of how it looks, the colours, the feel of it and where I can imagine it hanging. I’ve also learnt that auction attributions aren’t always right, so a name attached to a painting isn’t necessarily as straightforward as it appears anyway.
The strange thing about buying this way is that I sometimes end up with paintings I find difficult to sell. Not because nobody wants them — because somebody does. These have been paintings I’ve packed up to send to a customer and wondered whether I should have kept them for myself.
Then there are the ones nobody buys. Towards the Mountains is hanging in my living room at the moment and I absolutely love it. I love the shadowing, the brushstrokes and the colour, but for whatever reason nobody has bought it yet. I’m not particularly worried. For now, I get to keep looking at it, which I do, multiple times a day.
