End of an era

In Chinese culture, 60-year cycles mark the passing of time. Now Jules Speelman, the Chinese art dealer extraordinaire, is closing his own cycle by selling his collection. He tells Emma Crichton Miller how it began with Matchbox toys and ended with a devotion to Buddhist art

In 1964, aged just 18, Jules Speelman joined his father Alfred Speelman, in the family business. The Speelmans – Jules’s grandfather and great uncle – were Dutch dealers in general antiquities who had expanded from their base in Holland to London around the turn of the last century. When Speelman joined, A&J Speelman ran on similar general lines, with an especial focus on European porcelain and Chinese porcelain. But gradually Speelman turned the gallery eastwards, developing a passion for Chinese art works and Himalayan sculpture.

In June, Jules Speelman is celebrating the 60th anniversary of his entry into the dealership with a sale of works he has so far held close. This private collection, accumulated over many years, includes 28 Tibetan, Nepalese and Chinese bronze Buddhist figures and vessels, dating from the 12th to the 18th century. As he puts it, “I have been a dealer all my life but there have been certain areas which I have tended not to trade in. I just like them, and I have kept them. A lot of these bronzes, for example, I have had for 40 or 50 years.” This landmark moment has offered an opportunity to release these exceptional works back into the market in a sale at Bonhams Cornette de Saint Cyr on 11 June in Paris.

“He recognised what he calls 'absolute love' in collectors he met early on in his career”

Within Chinese culture, the idea of completing a 60-year cycle is an important one. The sexagenary cycle, a single cycle of 60 years, also known as the Stems-and-Branches or ganzhi (干支), has been used to record time since at least the 2nd millennium BC. The subtitle of the sale, 60 Years of Devotion, underlines that what unites these objects, from across vast geographical distances and several hundred years, is their place within a perpetually unfolding history of Buddhist devotion. The devotion is also Speelman’s for these objects . He developed this devotion early and he recognised what he calls “absolute love” in collectors he met early on in his career.

In his elegant home in London’s borough of Kensington, filled with astonishing art works from large Tang ceramic funerary figures to Northern Song Dynasty stone sculpture, Speelman talks about his unswerving commitment to the business of collecting. “The interest came from a very early age – 13, 14, 15 – when I collected Matchbox toys.” As a child, accompanying his father to the Victoria and Albert Museum, he would look at the showcases of English porcelain, for example, and put the question, “So how do you recognise if that is Bow Porcelain or Chelsea?” He adds, “Learning to recognise specific detailed styles intrigued me.”

Rather than university, he put himself through a rigorous training within museums of examining objects closely, determined to develop the capacity to respond to any object he might encounter with “a rough of idea of what I was looking at, whether a piece of Saudi Arabian alabaster or a Gandharan sculpture or a Tompion clock.”

He recognised that his father’s primary interest in European porcelain meant a focus on art works produced over a brief 150-year period – from 1700 to 1850, “whereas Chinese Art was 4,000 years.” With pragmatism and commitment, Speelman moved from studying Ming bronzes to Tibetan bronzes and Nepalese. As he says, “You have to learn the iconography and the stylistic periods, but as regards whether something is genuine or not, you use the same criteria as you do for Chinese art.”

He credits his father and great uncle – whether through genetic inheritance or example – for his instinct for quality: “It has been my good fortune to be able to sense if something is absolutely top and therefore I have to have it.” If his instinct is true, there is little risk: “There is always going to be someone else with deeper pockets to whom you are going to be able to sell it.” He adds, “The excitement is having that object and knowing it is great.”

“It has been my good fortune to be able to sense if something is absolutely top and therefore I have to have it”

Speelman’s pursuit of quality has been accompanied by an embrace of different materials – the bronzes of this collection, but also hardstones, lacquer and ceramics – and different artistic traditions. But he suggests that he is especially drawn to sculptural, three-dimensional art, largely figurative, and is fascinated by cross-cultural influence: “One of the first things that appealed to me was Gandharan art, because that sculpture stemmed from Greece. And then the flow from Gandhara to the whole of Asia; the way the robes were interpreted from Greek and Roman sculpture into Gandharan art; and the way the Chinese or the Sri Lankans interpreted those.”

His eclectic taste is evident too in the range of styles found in this sale collection – from richly gilded and jewelled bronze Buddhist figures, such as the 17^th-century gold and silver figure of Ushnishavijaya, from Tibet, to much plainer, rugged 11th century Tibetan figure of Vajrasatva. As he puts it, “I get just as much interest and pleasure from the bronze pieces as from the gilt ones. It is a different period. Each period has to be understood in its own terms.” He does, however, acknowledge that the Ushnishavijaya figure, “is a masterpiece among masterpieces.… I bought it from a dealer in Paris many years ago. He didn’t really want to part with it, but I kept on insisting.”

 So why is Speelman selling this collection now? There is some family pressure: “Certainly my family has said to me, ‘You have so many items. Why not curb it a bit?’” Until now he has resisted, recognising that to part with these objects would mark the ending of an era. But there is also an excitement about completing the cycle. Speelman says, “I might have a notional value for what I judge to be a fantastic object, but will other people see it as quite as good as that? When those things are sold, the market will tell me to what degree my judgment was correct.”

The market has undoubtedly shifted since Speelman began collecting. He explains that for many years his clientele was largely western. Today, it is 90% Asian. Selling mainly to other dealers, he finds the buyers are much younger – in their 20s, 30s and 40s – than before. He also senses a burgeoning market among Chinese collectors for Himalayan objects and among Indian collectors for examples of their heritage.

“It is extraordinary how there is always the potential of something else to look at”

Speelman confesses himself astonished by how greatly the business of dealing has changed over his lifetime. The first seismic shift was when auction houses began to print estimates in their catalogues. The latest has been the explosion of online activity since the pandemic. As he puts it, “There is no centre to the market anymore – it is undoubtedly a web.”

Reflecting on the particular objects in the sale, Speelman comments, “One thing I didn’t realise when I was buying these pieces was how they would go up in value. I bought what I really liked and by comparison with other art fields they seemed comparatively inexpensive.” And as we part, Speelman allows himself a final consolatory thought, “There are always new areas. It is extraordinary how there is always the potential of something else to look at.”

Emma Crichton Miller writes for Apollo and the Financial Times, among other publications.

Jules Speelman: Completing a Cycle - 60 Years of Devotion auction | 11 June, Paris

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