This Month: Why quality counts

Quality is better than quantity. Or so the old chestnut goes. But if any rule applies to collecting, this has to be it. People tend to collect at a certain level, and less can be more. As an auction specialist and valuer, I visited the homes of many, many people across London. One old gentleman (living in sheltered accommodation with few possessions) owned a boxed set of Deutsche Grammophon Bach CDs, a chair designed by Charles and Ray Eames and an unframed canvas by Alexei Alexeievich Harlamoff (1840-1925), stored under his bed: a fine portrait of a girl in a white dress, which we sold for a five-figure sum. In contrast, another overoptimistic client had a substantial archive of newspaper cuttings, reproduced photographs and photocopies centred around the life of a world-famous thespian and film star. He was convinced it was worth many thousands of pounds. I spent a difficult morning persuading him otherwise.

It is far better as a collector to own, say, five items of rarity and quality, than 100 run-of-the-mill objects, gathering dust. And that principle applies to all types of collectables: from classic cars to rare books, from vintage typewriters to coins of the Ancient World. That said, I’m full of admiration for the collectordealer of limited financial means, building a noteworthy collection on a budget. One way to achieve this is by the concept of ‘trading up’. The collector buys several affordable objects, learns from them, and then sells, using the money to buy one rare item. And so it continues; for a collection, to some extent, can be self-financing.

Such an approach requires discipline, dedication and considerable detective work. And you need to understand how the market works. Let’s say you collect the books of Graham Greene. Brighton Rock (1938) with dust jacket –a holy grail in the world of rare books – might set you back £65,000, if you can find one. Yet, the same title, published by the Folio Society in 1997, might be had for £20 online. On the other hand, a first edition of Brighton Rock, but lacking the wrapper, might, say, be acquired for £1,000 in a ‘fine’ condition from a dealer. It’s that all-important dust jacket that makes such a difference. It’s incredibly scarce. William Heinemann printed Brighton Rock’s jacket in a bright confectioner’s pink, and it’s thought that early collectors of Greene’s works threw away the wrapper as it clashed with the colours of Greene’s other books when lined up on a shelf.

Understanding the difference between genuine and artificial rarity is also essential, which is why I’m wary of the so-called ‘limited editions’ as advertised by the various ‘mints’ in the back pages of the Sunday colour supplements. A ‘special collector’s’ edition of 5,000 – however ‘limited’ – doesn’t make something rare. Take Harry Potter and the Philosopher’s Stone, published by Bloomsbury in 1997 and the first book in the Harry Potter series. Only 500 were printed, with 300 sent to public libraries for inevitable stamping and defacement, leaving a mere 200 copies in private circulation, and very few of these will remain in ‘fine’ condition. Now that’s rarity. The same principle applies to Peter Murdoch’s children’s chair, first designed in 1964 and made from a single piece of disposable, die-cut cardboard. Although 76,000 chairs were sold in six months in 1967, few survive…

Inevitably, some buyers collect antiques as a speculative investment. It’s not something I would recommend: expensive insurance costs, vulnerability to damage, lack of dividends, hefty seller’s commissions, transport costs (for larger objects) and Capital Gains Tax: all must be taken into account. And there are liquidity issues too. If you sell at auction, it might take several months to get your money back. Although it’s of course possible to make money from antiques, the best collectors identify with the objects they’re buying. They’re buying for love, as much as for money. I can’t stress how much you can learn by buying an antique, handling it physically, and researching it before selling it on. Knowledge is key. And even if your collection fails to make a profit, the pleasure gained is immeasurable.

Luke Honey is an antiques dealer and writer. Find out more at lukehoney.co.uk