by Michael Hamson
I have been a part of the Oceanic Art Society for so long I cannot remember ever NOT being a member. In fact, I don’t even ever recall joining in the first place over 20 years ago. It was as if the newsletters just started showing up in my mailbox. There must have been some inherent natural affinity between myself and the group of Australian Oceanic art lovers that drew us together — similar to how certain species of bird can locate their kin in a vast wilderness. Or maybe it was wandering around Paddington in 1998 and seeing the posters announcing the OAS’s Collector’s Choice exhibition that first caught my eye. My specialty was the Abelam and the poster featured a magnificent big-bellied Abelam figure belonging to Geoff Carey — now with Alex Philips. Shortly thereafter, having finished my Master’s thesis on the aesthetics of Abelam long yam exchanges, I was invited to lecture the group in Sydney. The crowd in attendance that day was unlike any I had encountered prior. Here were people sitting there expectantly that not only knew more about Papua New Guinea than I did but probably knew more on the very subject I was about to discuss.
The OAS members I met that day were great — truly interested, very friendly and many became long-term friends that have been instrumental in the course of my career buying and selling Oceanic art. Because I was making four field collecting trips a year in Papua New Guinea, I found myself passing through Australia eight times a year. It soon dawned on me the opportunity that provided. Instead of making quick connections through Brisbane, Sydney and Melbourne I began to pause a few days in each to visit collections and establish relationships. For example, In Brisbane I found myself under the wing of the lovely and irrepressible Barbara Perry. She would pick me up at the airport with a full itinerary planned. As we sped away in her car she would be animatedly filling me in about the wife of a former patrol officer we would be visiting. Looking at me full in the face as she spoke, driving 100km an hour north along the Sunshine Coast, the dangers I had just encountered in the field — malaria, armed robbery — seemed to pale. Her recent passing is a devastating loss to our community.
Not only was I visiting many private collections but was also doing business with my Australian dealer colleagues on a regular basis. Because of the perceived isolation the local dealers of Oceanic art are a scrappy and innovative group that taught me valuable lessons over the years. Back at the very beginning I got several ideas on my first website from them. It was from Alex Philips’ first website that I blatantly stole his massive Links section — which I believe he had pilfered himself from our friend Crispin Howarth’s original site. A technique I now employ of placing large, in-your-face ads in daily newspapers — Wanted! Looking to Buy Pre-1950 South Pacific Artifacts — I appropriated from ads run by Bill Evans, the Sausserhd family and
John Ioannou.
One of the more crucial strategies I learned from Chris and Anna Thorpe. I had gotten in the habit of visiting their gallery in Sydney on my way out of New Guinea. Sunburned, scarred and scratching mosquito bites I would relate my recent treks through the bush and some of the objects I managed to find. After listening to my woeful stories Chris would walk upstairs and come down holding some masterpiece he had sourced at some obscure small auction house online. It was one piece in particular that shifted my focus away from field collecting. A recent area of interest of mine was the Boiken region just to the east of the Abelam. I had spent months crisscrossing the southern slopes of the Prince Alexander Range visiting and revisiting all the villages with only spotty results. After just such a trip Chris Thorpe brought down a heart-stopping, powerful Boiken figure that he had bought at auction — most gallingly — back home in the U.S. Since then I have learned my lesson. It is the new field collecting — sitting at your computer in the middle of the night, in your underwear, searching for neglected and misattributed masterpieces in online auctions in Kansas City, Ottawa, Auckland and Atlanta.
Then there is the database of inscriptions, labels and inventory collection numbers the Oceanic Art Society has on their website. Spear-headed by the tireless Harry Beran this is an invaluable resource for researching and documenting provenance. Who else would take on such a monumental and, I would think, somewhat thankless task? So thank you OAS for all you’ve done.
Michael Hamson
Palos Verdes Estates, California