The Brian Sewell Archive: An Introduction

D R A W I N G R O O M D I S P L AY S

The Brian Sewell Archive An Introduction

8 May - 8 September 2017

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Introduction This display features material from the Brian Sewell Archive which was donated to the Paul Mellon Centre in July 2016. The work of reviewing the collection has been ongoing since it entered the building and—whilst this task is not yet complete—the key aim of this display is to provide an introduction to the archive. With the display now open and the archive collection available for consultation, this is the first time that any of the items have been seen by the public.

Despite a cull undertaken by Sewell as his health deteriorated, the archive contains material from across his life, thereby reflecting the Centre’s current acquisition policy in this area.1 When the material was transferred to the Centre, it comprised a total of seventy bankers boxes. It was already known that the first forty of these contained material relating to Sewell’s journalistic output, with the contents having been meticulously arranged by him into two main sequences: the largest concerning art and the arts and a smaller group of material concerning his writings on any other subject matter. The remaining thirty boxes contained a diverse range of completely unorganized material dating from 2

Sewell’s early childhood to the end of his days. From passports to diaries, press-cuttings, postcards, photographs, programmes, letters, and even a portrait [see item 1], it is all here: the rich tapestry of a life.

This display contains only a small selection from the huge volume and wealth of material. Alongside a biographical section, the items chosen fall into three main themes which reflect, perhaps, some of the most important aspects of his life and the contents of the archive.

These are: “the Blunt affair”; travel; and art criticism and controversy.

There was, of course, a huge amount that did not make the “final cut”. A more detailed summary can be found in the boxlist available on our website, but a few highlights include material relating to: The Transatlantic Review, the literary magazine run by Sewell’s friend Joseph F. McCrindle (including letters from John Updike, Iris Murdoch, Samuel Beckett etc.); Sewell’s extensive research on fakes and forgeries; his television, radio, and theatre work; his huge and diverse range of friends and acquaintances (including John Craxton, Tom Keating, and Charles Saatchi, to

name but a few) as well as, of course, his love of dogs and cars.

The archive documents not only Sewell’s own life and work, but also reveals much about the art world in the UK from the 1950s to the 2010s. This fact was clearly recognized by his friends during his lifetime. A letter sent to Sewell in 2012 from Julia Gahlin, an independent dealer and friend, implores Sewell,

Wall, to left of display text 1 Zsuzsi Roboz, “Brian Sewell—Stormy Weather”, 2002, sanguine and charcoal on paper, 66 × 51cm AR: TN1

“please do not destroy your papers. The future may have a use for them that we alive in our present cannot conceive of” —a sentiment with which all who have worked on the collection would wholeheartedly agree.2 The Brian Sewell Archive is yet to be catalogued in detail, but if you are interested in consulting it, please contact collections staff by emailing collections@paul-melloncentre.ac.uk

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Upright Display Case Brian Sewell: A Biography Brian Sewell was born Brian Perkins on 15 July 1931. He was brought up in Kensington, West London, by his mother Mary Jessica Perkins and— from 1936—his stepfather, Robert Sewell. Although the relationship with his mother was not always a happy one, he was incredibly close to her throughout her life.

Significantly, the archive contains not only material compiled and collected by Sewell, but also a volume of material generated by his mother. Alongside items she sent to him [see item 2], there is material that she carefully collected, cut out and set aside for his interest, as well as the records she made of the events in his life [see item 10].

Educated at home until the age of eleven, Sewell’s childhood was unconventional and somewhat disjointed. He grew up not knowing the identity of his real father, changing his name from Perkins to Sewell in 1942. It was only on his mother’s death that the identity of his real father—the composer Philip Heseltine, whose pen name was Peter Warlock—was revealed to him. Warlock killed himself seven months before his son was born.

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Sewell’s early years were dominated by trips to the theatre, ballet, opera, galleries, and museums of London, where he was exposed to a wide range of artistic and cultural experiences.

It was on one of these trips, at the age of four, that he was taken to the National Gallery and was held spellbound by Murillo’s The Heavenly Earth and Trinities and Dürer’s The Madonna with the Iris. The programmes for these events—often marked “Brian & Mammy” and with the names of anyone else in attendance, together with the date—were clearly important to him as they survived the cull and have been carefully preserved [see item 3].

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At the age of eleven Sewell became a day boy at Haberdashers’ Aske’s, an independent school in Hampstead. He was a reluctant and wilful pupil who did not always make a good impression on his masters. By the age of seventeen he was studying English, History, Art, and French. His school reports from this time—preserved in the archive— hint at the skills that were later to earn him a living [see item 4]: English: “the liveliness of his ideas and quickness of appreciation are pleasing” English History: “most of his written work is very promising but some of his essays are wild and uncontrolled.”

compulsory National Service and he received his commission in 1953, at the rank of Subaltern. Demobilized in 1954, he described his two years in the army as one of the happiest times of his life. There he learned how to get on with people and formed lasting friendships with some of his fellow soldiers, in particular John Peile and Nigel Hensman [see item 5].

Sewell was offered a place to read history at Oxford, but chose instead to enrol at the Courtauld Institute of Art in London—a decision that altered the entire course of his life.

Excelling at his studies, he developed a keen eye and a passion for the subjects that were to fascinate him for the rest of his life. In 1955 he went travelling with five fellow students on a mini “grand tour” [see item 6].

In 1952 Sewell joined the Royal Army Service Corps to complete Item 5

It was also at the Courtauld that he first came to the attention of Anthony Blunt (Director, 1947–74).

Sewell found Blunt an inspiration and the two formed a strong friendship that was to last for the rest of their lives. Material from the archive reveals that from 1958 onwards Sewell regularly sought Blunt’s advice on professional matters and they frequently dined together and spoke on the telephone [see item 8].

After graduating Sewell took a job at Christie’s, where he specialized in Old Master paintings and drawings [see item 7]. He enjoyed the work of attribution, but was never entirely happy in the position, believing that “the job is not really worth doing” [see item 8]. In 1967 he established himself as an independent dealer, and continued buying, selling and collecting art for the rest of his life [see item 9].

It was Sewell’s friendship with Blunt that first brought him to public attention. In November 1979, when Blunt was exposed as the fourth man in the Cambridge spy ring, Sewell acted as his

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unofficial spokesperson and sheltered him from the press.

Material in the archive reveals that media coverage of this episode was extensive. It also shows how invasive this was for Sewell: on 17 November 1979, for example, Sewell’s mother noted that there were sixteen callers (phone and in-person) to the house [see item 10]. For more about this episode see pages 16-19 and the small display case.

It was Sewell’s honesty and outspokenness throughout the “Blunt affair” that led to his first job as a critic. Tina Brown, editor of Tatler magazine, offered him £100 to write a thousand words for the magazine ten times a year. His first piece, a review of an exhibition of works by Dalí at the Tate Gallery, was published in June 1980 [see item 11].

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Sewell remained at Tatler until 1990, but had meanwhile secured additional writing responsibilities.

Most significantly, in 1984 he became a critic for the Evening Standard, and was commissioned to write on both the arts and a multitude of other subjects.

He was hugely successful in the role, winning many awards and publishing two compendium volumes of some of his best work [see item 12]. For more about Sewell’s journalism see pages 2432 and the large display case.

Alongside his articles, Sewell authored several books, including a two-volume autobiography. He was also a well-known television personality. The archive contains a huge amount of related material including initial proposals, scripts, correspondence with the relevant media and publishing companies, as well as personal and travel memorabilia [see item 13].

His work on the documentary The Naked Pilgrim in 2003 won the Sandford St Martin Trust award for best religious programme. Other documentaries and TV appearances followed, including—some fifty years after his first trip as a Courtauld student—Brian Sewell’s Grand Tour in 2006. The programme was written and presented by Sewell and followed him as he travelled 12

the route many Grand Tourists of the eighteenth century would have taken. To listen to an excerpt from this programme please scan the QR code on page 15 [see item 15].

In this excerpt Sewell discusses the city of Turin (which was often an early sojourn on the itinerary) and its abundance of churches. He visits the Church of San Lorenzo and describes what it would have been like for a young Grand Tourist to be faced with the grandeur of a Catholic church for the first time, having grown up in Protestant England .

By the time Sewell died in 2015 he was a public figure. Through his independent dealing activities and his famously discriminating eye he had built up a considerable private collection of works of art, the majority of which was sold at Christie’s [see item 14]. A handful of works also entered the National Gallery and the British Museum.

His obituaries identified him variously as an art critic, collector, and an art historian: all of these roles are reflected in the content of the archive.

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2 Black-and-white photograph of Brian Sewell, aged approximately two years old AR: TN2a, and postcard sent to him by his mother on his second birthday, 15 July 1933 AR: TN2b

5 Black-and-white photograph taken at Mons in October 1953 showing Sewell (back row, second on the right) and his friends John Peile (front row, far right) and Nigel Hensman (middle row, fourth from the left) AR: TN5

3 Programmes for Lydia Kyasht’s Russian Ballet at the Vaudeville Theatre AR: TN3a and Cinderella at the London Coliseum AR: TN3b. Both with hand-written annotations by Sewell’s mother, 1940 4 Haberdashers’ Aske’s School report for Sewell, 1949 AR: TN4

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6 Typed itinerary of Sewell’s “grand tour” taken in 1955 with fellow students from the Courtauld Institute of Art AR: TN6 7 Christie’s The Oldest Fine Art Auctioneers in the World, c. 1960s. Image on page 9 shows Sewell with David Carritt and William Mostyn-Owen, both Old Master experts at Christie’s AR: TN7

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8 Second page of a letter from Sewell to his mother regarding his work at Christie’s and his friendship with Blunt, nd AR: TN8

11 Sewell’s first review for Tatler magazine, June 1980 AR: TN11

9 Handwritten ledger recording Sewell’s independent buying and selling activities with regard to bronzes, c. 1970s AR: TN9a, and an exhibition catalogue: Drawings by Old Masters: 29 April 1969 until 16 May 1969... at 11 Bury Street, St. James’s... in association with Brian Sewell, 1969 AR: TN9b 10 Two pages of handwritten notes by Sewell’s mother recording the number of phone calls and in-person visits to the home they shared between 08.40 and 14.00 on Saturday 17 November 1979 following Blunt’s exposure as the fourth man AR: TN10

12 Brian Sewell, Naked Emperors: Criticisms of English Contemporary Art. London: Quartet, 2012 AR: TN12 13 Map of Rome included amongst research material for Brian Sewell’s Grand Tour (2006) AR: TN13 14 Christie’s, Brian Sewell: Critic & Collector, King Street 27 September 2016. London: Christie’s, 2016 AR: TN14 Tablet on table 15 Excerpt from Brian Sewell’s Grand Tour, 2006, Episode 1: Turin, 2 minutes 29 seconds © WAG TV, 2006 LR: Audio Visual Scan the QR code below to see Sewell discussing the Church of San Lorenzo in Turin.

Or watch via our website: http://www. paul-mellon-centre.ac.uk/whats-on/ forthcoming/sewell-archive-display

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Small Display Case The “Blunt Affair” Alongside his work as an art critic, Sewell is perhaps most well-known for his role in the “Blunt affair”. It is widely acknowledged that Sewell’s decision to act as Blunt’s unofficial spokesperson following Blunt’s exposure as a Soviet spy in 1979 had an immediate impact on Sewell’s life, thrusting him into the public eye. What is perhaps less recognized is the fact that Sewell’s actions at this time continued to have repercussions right until the end of his life.

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The archive contains a considerable amount of material relating to the “Blunt affair”, the majority of it—as one might expect—documenting it from Sewell’s point of view. The first references to Blunt appear in the material that dates from the 1950s.

Diary entries, postcards, and letters from this time frequently include casual mentions of him. It is clear that the friendship which began at the Courtauld was cemented during the following two decades.

By the time of Blunt’s exposure

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in 1979, Sewell recorded in his autobiography that they were speaking at least once a day.

The archive contains an explosion of material from this period. This comprises predominantly presscuttings relating to the exposure, the vast majority focusing on Blunt but a small handful revealing something of Sewell’s role [see item 16]. It also includes a further glut of press material following Blunt’s death in 1983 [see item 17]. Additional items also include a typed copy of the famous letter written by

Sewell that appeared in The Times on 17 November 1979, as well as material that reveals how Sewell’s defence of his friend was perceived by the public. The responses range enormously and were often extreme. Contained in the archive, for example, are two Christmas cards sent as hate mail to Sewell the “sewer rat” [see item 18] as well as—somewhat bizarrely—student responses to a comprehension exercise set by a teacher at a Paddington school based on newspaper articles of the time.

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Sewell continued to receive and collect material relating to Blunt for the rest of his life. Over the years he was frequently contacted by authors, researchers, and the media, all keen to investigate the “affair” and believing that he held untold secrets. He also received testimony from individuals for whom the exposure of the Cambridge spies prompted personal accounts of the political climate in Britain in the 1930s [see item 19].

Perhaps most touching are the letters received from Blunt’s friends, acquaintances, and family.

Many reveal Sewell’s role as a conduit: passing correspondence or good wishes to Blunt. Others— including most notably a handful penned by Wilfred and Christopher, Blunt’s brothers [see item 20]— were sent in praise of Sewell’s actions in publicly defending his friend. All reveal something of the climate of the time in which any public recognition of Blunt’s achievements or significance as an art historian was difficult to express.

Apart from a letter written in 1981 in which Sewell reveals that “for the first time since the affair erupted I am fearful for him...

Anthony has an ice-cold strand to his nature that is separate from his functions as an art historian and an affectionate and lively human 18

being”, there is very little material written by Sewell in a private capacity directly on the subject.3 Most remarkably, perhaps, given the length of their friendship, the archive contains only one letter from Blunt himself. This was penned to Rita Kipling, a former student at the Courtauld [see item 21].

This note—and the way that it made its way into the archive—is representative of much of the Blunt related material and, indeed, Sewell’s continued role in the affair: Kipling sent it to Sewell some thirty years later because she recognized that Blunt had enriched both their lives. If there was any correspondence between Sewell and Blunt it is not to be found here. Work on the collection post-acquisition has revealed that for this aspect of Sewell’s life in particular, the archive contains a broken narrative. It seems entirely probable that the Blunt material was amongst that destroyed by Sewell as his health declined.

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Travel Travel played a large part in Sewell’s life. The three cancelled passports in the archive are peppered with stamps which trace his progress around the world [item 22].

Each of these passports gives his profession as “Art Historian”—an occupation that inspired travel across the globe.

In addition to the “grand tour” taken with his fellow Courtauld students, and the trips he undertook as part of his role when working for Christie’s, Sewell travelled 20

extensively. Sometimes he travelled for work—receiving commissions to write about particular locations and experiences—and sometimes entirely independently. The archive contains a huge amount of related material: research material, photographs, maps, and travel memorabilia (such as tickets, guidebooks, and so on) [see item 13].

However, perhaps the most exciting aspect of this particular section of material are the fourteen travel diaries dating from the late

1970s through to the 1990s. These record trips to many European destinations, as well as to South Africa, Pakistan, Tunisia, Algeria, and to his beloved Turkey. Sewell journeyed widely throughout Turkey, visiting it frequently and sometimes several times a year. He took particular pleasure in escaping “the tyranny of Western Art”, revelling in the archaeological sites and culture of the region.4 In his autobiography Outsider II..., he describes how his interest in Turkey was first sparked by reading Kinglake’s Eöthen whilst at Haberdashers’ Aske’s, as “a leitmotif of my life for fully 15 years” (page 93).

Sewell used many of his travel diaries to document information about the ancient sites and museums he visited, often recording—in detail—things that interested him. For example, on a visit to the Danish artist Michael Ancher’s house in August 1986, he sketches one of the exhibits: an unusual shaped chair [see item 23]. On other occasions he drew the landscapes he passed through [see item 24] and noted what the weather conditions were. The diaries are laced with personal experiences, minor disasters, and witty aides-memoires. For example, his sense of surprise is evident from the note “Swans? In Pakistan?”.5 Whether his comments are detailed

and read as dialogue, or are just hastily scrawled brief notes, Sewell writes about his experiences with incredible clarity. If the reader is able to decipher the jagged and sometimes difficult to read handwriting, they are rewarded with a rich taste of his adventures.

Sewell became an expert on the history and culture of Turkey and today, the diaries, his various articles, together with South from Ephesus: Travels through Aegean Turkey, are a useful record of the changing fortunes of the region.

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16 Cutting from The Kensington News and Post, 23 November 1979 AR: TN15

21 Letter to Rita Kipling from Anthony Blunt, 5 September 1980 AR: TN20

17 Cutting from The Guardian, 28 March 1983, mounted and annotated by Sewell AR: TN16

22 Three cancelled passports belonging to Sewell, 1970s to 1990s AR: TN21a–c

18 Christmas card “hate mail” sent to Sewell in the early 1980s AR: TN17

23 Sewell’s travel diary recording a visit to Michael Ancher’s house in Denmark, August 1986 AR: TN22

19 Personal account of the political climate in Britain in the 1930s written by Margery Green, sent to Philip Howard, literary editor, The Times, 9 March 1983 AR: TN18

24 Sewell’s travel diary recording a visit to Saranda in Albania, 7 September 1988 AR: TN23

20 Letter to Sewell from Christopher Blunt, 30 August 1984, expressing “the greatest appreciation from both of us for the defence of Anthony Blunt...” AR: TN19

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Large Display Case Sewell as a Journalist and Critic Sewell earned his living from journalism for the last thirty-five years of his life and was hugely successful in this role. He won the press award for Critic of the Year (1988 and 1994), Arts Journalist of the Year (1994), the Hawthornden Prize for Art Criticism (1995), and the Foreign Press Award (Arts) in 2000.

By the time he died, he was widely known as “Britain’s most famous and controversial art critic.”6 He is best known for his writings on art, but his work was much wider than this. He wrote extensively for a huge range of publications—from Il Giornale dell’Arte to The Oldie—and on subjects as diverse as Titian to the BBC’s The Great British Bake Off. His likes and dislikes were also often unexpected: he was impressed with the work of Jake and Dinos Chapman and liked David Beckham. His writing, particularly on the postures of political leaders, won him the Orwell Prize for political writing (2003).

Sewell’s output was prodigious. His articles are arranged alphabetically by subject into files that usually contain one typed copy of his article (always completed on his distinctive manual typewriter) [see item 31]; as well as one published copy of the article [see item 30] and research notes and any correspondence relating to the piece.

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This near complete run of the articles authored by Sewell presents an incredibly valuable resource for anyone studying the cultural landscape, tastes, and preferences, particularly of London, during this period. In addition, the fact that he revisited the same subject many times, means that—when seen together—his articles reveal how his views, as well as those of society, were changing.

The vast majority of these articles were written for the Evening Standard. Sewell worked for the newspaper from 1984 until the end of his life in 2015 and, despite many attempts from other papers to poach him, he remained loyal to the Standard. Alongside the correspondence concerning these rejected offers of employment, the archive contains one document that explains his reasons for remaining with the paper. In a questionnaire completed in 2000 for an art college student, Mrs Pughe-Morgan (mother of the famous Piers!), Sewell is presented with “a final question from my son: when are you going to quit that ghastly little local paper and work for him” [see item 25].

Sewell’s response, printed overleaf, encapsulates much about him and his work, and indeed the material to be found in his archive: 25

“I write for the Evening Standard because it was the first paper to offer work, because successive editors have been loyal and indulgent and because it reaches the audience I wish to reach— deep into the House of Commons, the Lords, Buckingham Palace, the major galleries, art trade and so on... My London audience, straphanging home in the Underground, I seek to amuse, inform, enlighten, encourage and delight, and sometimes to outrage—and that I achieve this I know from the three hundred or so letters I receive every week, from the amount of assistance asked by art students and from letters like your own…” [see item 26].

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Sewell took the discipline of art criticism and his role as an art critic very seriously. He wrote many articles on the subject, rejecting the view of Lawrence Gowing that “the duty of a critic is to lavish unalloyed praise upon the artist”, and asserting his belief instead that it was the art critic’s duty to “use his eye and experience to tell the truth... To cry ‘rubbish’ may indeed be the only honest response.”7 This view he advocated many times, in many situations, reiterating that he was only interested in “straight pieces based on art history and good hard looking” and, in addition, asserting that “writers should write and editors edit.”8 His articles are characterized by a distinctive, eloquent style of writing. He researched his subjects extensively and always insisted on visiting an exhibition and reading the catalogue before putting pen to paper. Above all, his articles were honest—sometimes brutally so—and often controversial. The powerfulness of his work was recognized in January 1994 when a review of Tate’s exhibition Writing on the Wall prompted thirty-five

artists, critics, art historians, and dealers to write a letter to the Evening Standard demanding that he be sacked. Thus began a public furore which had huge media coverage [see item 27].

This episode did Sewell no damage. On the contrary, two months later he won the press award for Critic of the Year for the second time. Significantly, no other art critic had won this even once. His public profile was raised, his readership increased, and a selection of his most controversial articles was published in book form in 1994 as The Reviews that Caused the Rumpus and Other Pieces [see item 28]. Over the years, his reputation as the critic who waged a wittily acerbic war against what he viewed as the inanities of modern conceptual art was solidified. A follow-up compendium, Naked Emperors: Criticisms of English Contemporary Art was published in 2012 [see item 12].

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Whilst the public aspect of Sewell’s role as a critic is very familiar and well-documented, one of the most exciting things about the archive is that it also reveals the private side of his occupation, as well as facets of his personality not readily apparent. As Sewell noted in his questionnaire answers to Mrs Pughe-Morgan [see item 26], he received “three hundred or so letters” each week. As a result, over the years he corresponded and built friendships with an enormous and diverse group of individuals: from key establishment figures to young and upcoming artists.

These letters are often incredibly illuminating—the authors discussing their inspirations, aspirations, and frustrations. Those from artists sometimes even include examples of their work [see item 29].

It is clear that as a critic Sewell was powerful: material in the archive reveals, for example, that he was able to influence, for better or for worse, the success of a fundraising campaign [see item 30], the trajectory of an artist’s career [see item 31], and the footfall at an

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exhibition [see item 32]. It is also clear that although he was publicly sometimes a figure of fun, because of his mannered pronunciation and outspokenness, scholars and artists alike valued Sewell’s opinion. The archive contains, for example, a letter from Nicholas Penny, dated 13 February 2008, shortly after he took up the Directorship at the National Gallery, where he solicits Sewell’s opinions. In this letter, Penny writes, “you keep a keen eye on the national collection so I am always interested in your views” [see item 33]. Likewise, a letter from the artist Polly Hope states that “you appear to be the only person alive who can write about art” [see item 34]. He took this influence seriously, sponsoring and nurturing those he thought had talent, supporting projects and ventures he felt were worthwhile.

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Sewell’s work as an art critic also meant that he received many invitations to lecture on the value of art history as an academic discipline, something he felt strongly about. Material in the archive reveals he believed that a new, critical form was needed based on authenticity and quality, but that above all it was important to “teach judgment so that a man may justify himself when he says I know what I like.”9 The Brian Sewell Archive is rich and diverse in both content and coverage and reveals much about the networks and complexities of the UK art world from 1950 onwards.

It also offers a unique insight into the work and processes of a critic, and the private responses to this very public discipline.

25 Final page of a questionnaire sent by Gabrielle Pughe-Morgan to Sewell, 6 February 2000 AR: TN24 26 Page 5 of Sewell’s response to Gabrielle Pughe-Morgan, 10 January 2000 AR: TN25 27 Cutting from The Sunday Telegraph, 9 January 1994 AR: TN26a, and The Spectator, 15 January 1994 AR: TN26b 28 Brian Sewell, The Reviews that Caused the Rumpus and other pieces. London: Bloomsbury, 1994 AR: TN27 29 Selection of work sent to Sewell from the artists clockwise from top left: decorated envelope from Andrew Norris, June 1994 AR: TN28a; card from Phil Tyler, 2011 AR: TN28b; invitation from Irma Irsara, 2011 AR: TN28c; card from Brian Lewis, 2011 AR: TN28d 30 Colour proof copy of Sewell’s Evening Standard article, 7 November 2008, supporting the National Gallery’s campaign to acquire Titian’s Diana and Actaeon AR: TN29a; and first page of a letter from Nicholas Penny, Director of the National Gallery, 8 February 2009, thanking Sewell for writing about the campaign “with exceptional eloquence” which inspired “some astonishing support” AR: TN29b

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Notes 31 Photocopy of first page of Sewell’s review for Mini Metro, 19 September 2002, titled “Christopher Bramham” AR: TN30a, a letter from Christopher Bramham, 9 December 2002, thanking him for his kind article AR: TN30b, and an undated letter from Bramham outlining his first encounter with Lucien Freud and revealing his growing friendship with Sewell AR: TN30c 32 Photocopy of page 5 of Sewell’s review of a book accompanying an exhibition at the National Gallery written for Tatler, 7 January 1987 AR: TN31a, and a letter from Neil MacGregor, Director of the National Gallery, 31 March 1987, acknowledging that Sewell’s review might affect attendance at the exhibition AR: TN31b 33 Letter from Nicholas Penny, Director of the National Gallery, 13 February 2008 AR: TN32 34 First page of a letter from Polly Hope, 29 January 2005 AR: TN33

1.

It is the Paul Mellon Centre’s policy to collect, wherever possible, material that reflects the whole of an individual’s life (rather than just their research output).

2. Letter from Julia Gahlin to Sewell, 31 December 2012 AR:TN34.

3. Letter from Sewell to Magnus Linklater, journalist, dated 7 November 1981 AR: TN34a.

4. Quoted from Sewell, South from Ephesus, blurb on jacket AR: TN35.

5. Sewell’s travel diary for Pakistan, September 1994; Naples, September 1995; and Paris, June–July 1999. See visit to Pakistan AR: TN36.

6. Rachel Cooke, “We pee on things and call it art”, The Guardian, 13 November 2005 AR: TN37.

7. Brian Sewell, “The duties of an art critic’, The Daily Telegraph, 2 March 1993 AR: TN38.

8. Letter from Sewell to Min Hogg, editor of World of Interiors, dated 17 June 1985 AR: TN39.

9. Lecture notes for talks given to art masters at Harrow and Millfield schools, 1998 AR: TN40.

Acknowledgements Display and text prepared by: Charlotte Brunskill, Jenny Hill and Bryony Botwright-Rance. With special thanks to Frankie Drummond Charig, May Peskett Smith and Stephen O’Toole.

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AR: TN44 Sewell playing with his dogs in Kensington Gardens, c. 1970s

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