Will Haydock photographed a couple of months before Christie鈥檚 semiannual American Art auction. The piece to his right, Childe Hassam鈥檚 oil on canvas In the Old House, eventually sold for $1.455 million at the auction. 聽(Photo: Gary Wayne Gilbert)
Let鈥檚 see what鈥檚 in here,鈥 Will Haydock 鈥06 said, leafing through a stack of paintings. The works, some of them highly valuable, were layered unceremoniously between sheets of plain brown cardboard, in a plywood bin that sat on the floor of a windowless storeroom. 鈥淥kay, we鈥檝e got a Milton Avery,鈥 Haydock said, gently pulling out a canvas and giving it a long look. 鈥淭his is four to six hundred thousand.鈥
As the head of American Art at Christie鈥檚, the famed London auction house, it鈥檚 Haydock鈥檚 job to curate and arrange the sale of scores of artworks each year. So he frequently finds himself elbow-deep in masterpieces, in this particular storeroom鈥攍ocated in Christie鈥檚 New York City offices, in Rockefeller Center鈥攁nd in others like it.
Or maybe treasury is the right word to describe the room. A decade of global economic growth has driven the art market to ever greater heights. For most of the twentieth century, art prices were set by U.S., European, and Japanese collectors. In the twenty-first, however, Chinese, Middle Eastern, and Russian billionaires have joined the bidding, to breathtaking effect. In 2000, art auctions generated $3.2 billion. In 2018, the number was $15.5 billion. And price records are constantly being set. Just in the past eight months, the record paid for the work of a living artist was broken twice: In November 2018, David Hockney鈥檚 Portrait of an Artist (Pool with Two Figures) was sold for $90.2 million. Then, in May of this year, Jeff Koons鈥檚 Rabbit sculpture sold for $91.1 million. (Both auctions were handled by Christie鈥檚.)
Standing over the bin, Haydock slid the Avery painting back into its place and pulled up another. 鈥淭his is a beautiful Walter Ufer,鈥 he said. 鈥淗e鈥檚 Taos School鈥濃攖he New Mexico artistic movement made famous by Georgia O鈥橩eeffe. 鈥淵ou can see how he captures the light there. That鈥檚, I think, 500 to 700 thousand.鈥
The paintings in the bin were all destined not for auctions, but for private sales. A buyer may approach Haydock with a request for a work by a particular artist, or in a particular genre. Haydock will then approach an owner and see if a deal can be made鈥攁 highly personal negotiation that can take months. Private sales are an increasing part of Christie鈥檚 portfolio, Haydock said, a change partly driven by the overall growth in the art market. But on this February morning, another type of sale was weighing on his mind. The spring American Art auction, one of two that Christie鈥檚 holds each year, was still three months away, but the pieces that would go under the auctioneer鈥檚 hammer were already arriving. One of the showstoppers, Haydock told me with excitement, was 鈥渢he first large-scale, abstracted floral painting鈥 that O鈥橩eeffe ever produced. It was due for delivery the next day. And Haydock was working hard to gather a few other major pieces for the late-May event, the kind capable of generating public interest and attracting the collectors who place bids at an auction.
Haydock stepped away from the bin. It was time for him to leave for a meeting. As he exited the storeroom, he paused to admire a bust by the pioneering modernist sculptor Constantin Brancusi that was lying on an old library cart. The sculpture is a white marble version of Brancusi鈥檚 famed Sleeping Muse, an abstract female head no bigger than a Nerf football. Haydock estimated that it would sell for $4 million to $5 million. 鈥淲e sold a gilded one for 30 million,鈥 he added, with an incredulous shake of his own head.
* * *
Raised in Westchester County, north of New York City, Haydock went to Middlesex School in Concord, Massachusetts, for high school and then attended Boston College. 鈥淚 don鈥檛 know if it was subconscious or what,鈥 he told me, 鈥渂ut I clearly didn鈥檛 have a strong desire to leave the Northeast.鈥
After some trial and error, he wound up majoring in聽mathematics, adding a second major in communications. 鈥淭hat left open a pretty broad array of things I could pursue,鈥 he said, 鈥渂ut it felt like the natural gravitational pull was toward finance. It wasn鈥檛 that I had a strong desire to work in the field, but for whatever reason it just took me there.鈥 So after graduation, he joined a small private-wealth-management firm in Manhattan, and then moved to UBS, a major international bank.
He still looks the part. On the day we met, Haydock, 35, was dressed in a sharp navy suit, a pale-blue tie, and classic snaffle-bit loafers with gently rebellious bright-blue patterned socks peeking above them. Add to that his tall, trim frame, neatly parted brown hair, and ready smile, and you鈥檇 probably guess, were you to run into him on the street, that you were looking at a happy and prosperous young banker.
In reality, Haydock said of his time in finance, 鈥淚 found myself day to day absolutely hating my job.鈥 We were sitting now in a skybox office that overlooks Christie鈥檚 main auction floor. 鈥淚 think it was the robotic nature of what I was doing. You get in at the same time every day. You leave at the same time every day. There鈥檚 no real variance.鈥
But his time as a banker did offer one solace鈥攁nd, it turned out, an escape.
Haydock鈥檚 salary allowed him to begin collecting nineteenth-century American paintings. 鈥淭he Hudson River School is what I was fascinated by鈥攖he first artistic movement in America, which had the idea of capturing landscape, luminosity, the beauty of the country,鈥 he said. But those paintings were beyond his means, so he turned to works by artists of the New Bedford School. 鈥淎 much smaller movement,鈥 he told me, 鈥渟o the prices weren鈥檛, you know, $500,000! Way down from that. It was artists the general public will never have heard of: William Bradford, Lemuel Eldred, C.H. Gifford.鈥
As Haydock鈥檚 passion grew, so did his interest in the business of art. 鈥淚 became fascinated with the idea of the auction environment, with what was happening behind the scenes,鈥 he said. 鈥淵ou could tell that there was so much more to the auction format than being in the room and bidding.鈥 Then one day, he discovered that the famed auction house Sotheby鈥檚 offered a master鈥檚 degree in Art Business. 鈥淚 quit my job at UBS and started the next day,鈥 he recalled.
At the Sotheby鈥檚 Institute, in London, Haydock found himself a bit of an outsider. Almost all of his sixty or so聽classmates were focused on contemporary art. 鈥淭hey wanted to be around Warhol, Basquiat, Jeff Koons, things like that,鈥 he recalled. 鈥淢y interest was so different. It was much more traditional.鈥
But his individualism proved beneficial. In 2010, at the end of the eighteen-month program and its intensive courses in art history, art law, and the practical matters of auctions and private sales, Sotheby鈥檚 hired him directly to work in its American Art wing. 鈥淢y growth in the field is a huge product of having those opportunities available to me right away,鈥 he said, 鈥渨hereas so many people in the crowded contemporary-art world had to start at more junior levels.鈥
Haydock quickly rose through the ranks, and in 2014 Christie鈥檚 lured him away. Within a few years, he was named head of Christie鈥檚 American Art department.
* * *
"American Art鈥 refers, broadly speaking, to works produced in the United States prior to World War II鈥 what might be called homegrown art, produced outside the European traditions of fine art. (The war drove many European artists to move to the States, and is seen as the beginning of art鈥檚 contemporary internationalization.)
鈥淭he American Art category is super broad,鈥 Haydock told me. 鈥淲e start with American portraiture, like George Washington. We span through the Hudson River School, genre painting, Ashcan School, American Modernism, illustration, American realism....鈥 The category also includes sculpture, drawing, and photography. There鈥檚 a lot to know and learn, in other words. That鈥檚 what was missing from finance, Haydock said. 鈥淚n this job, I firmly believe that if I鈥檓 still doing it at the age of 55, I will still have infinitely more that I can learn. Which I love.鈥
At Christie鈥檚, 鈥淎merican Art鈥 also refers to the two annual auctions, held every May and November, where scores of works are put up for public sale. Like the artworks themselves, Haydock explained, the collectors who gather to bid against one another are largely American. The work is so intrinsically tied to the country鈥攖hink of Ansel Adams鈥檚 monumental photographs of Yosemite National Park, or Charles Russell鈥檚 dynamic bronze sculptures of broncos and cowboys鈥攖hat its appeal is, too. But there are exceptions. 鈥淲ithin our category, there are a few artists who resonate meaningfully in a broader way,鈥 Haydock told me. 鈥淕eorgia O鈥橩eeffe, Edward Hopper, and John Singer Sargent can transcend the category and cross oceans.鈥 That鈥檚 what made securing the O鈥橩eeffe abstract floral painting so important for the May auction.
The success or failure of an auction usually hinges on the presence of big names, Haydock explained. Like a superstar listed on a Broadway marquee, an O鈥橩eeffe or a Picasso on the auction block gets people in the door鈥攅ven if the supporting cast of lesser-known artists makes up the bulk of the sale. 鈥淲e have it at $4 million to $6 million,鈥 Haydock said of the O鈥橩eeffe abstract, 鈥渁nd we have very strong expectations. So we could see it going for anywhere from six to, if we have the right day, maybe as high as ten.鈥 Also聽secured for the May show was a Hopper watercolor (鈥渁 beautiful, beautiful piece鈥). Christie鈥檚 put its estimate at $1 million to $1.5 million. There was also a Norman Rockwell listed at $4.5 million to $6.5 million; a pair of Marsden Hartley paintings, one listed at $4 million to $6 million and the other at $1.6 million to $1.8 million; and an N.C. Wyeth listed at $700,000 to $1 million. Sargent would also make an appearance鈥攏ot one of his glorious portraits, but two drawings.
* * *
Auctions have traditionally been the preferred method of selling high-end art, and they remain an important component of the industry鈥斺淭hey鈥檙e what get the headlines,鈥 Haydock said鈥攂ut times are changing. More and more, auction houses like Christie鈥檚 are acting not as auctioneers but as brokers putting a seller together with a specific buyer. 鈥淟ast year, for American Art, we sold about $60 million to $70 million privately,鈥 Haydock said. 鈥淚t鈥檚 becoming an increasing part of our business. It used to be that the two big auctions dominated the calendar鈥攐ne finishes, and on to the next. Now we are handling property at every single moment of the year.鈥
Selling art privately requires building relationships with the people who own it and the people who want to buy it. As a result, much of Haydock鈥檚 work involves face-to-face conversations with both parties. The stakes are often high, given that the works can go for an actual fortune鈥斺淚 have a meeting this morning to talk about an O鈥橩eeffe, in the range of $20 million,鈥 he said鈥攂ut it鈥檚 a job he relishes. 鈥淵ou鈥檙e traveling all over the country, you鈥檙e seeing these beautiful objects, you鈥檙e learning a ton as you鈥檙e developing and growing, and you鈥檙e also meeting some of the most interesting people in the world,鈥 he said. 鈥淲hat鈥檚 better than that?鈥
Still, he said, the semiannual American Art auctions are never far from his mind. They鈥檙e what people think of when they think of Christie鈥檚, and they鈥檙e what largely define his internal clock. 鈥淎fter doing I don鈥檛 know how many auctions now, I always expect the anxiety to lessen,鈥 he told me. 鈥淏ut it鈥檚 still exactly the same. There are just so many uncertainties that exist at auctions, and you completely relinquish control the moment the auctions starts.鈥
I asked what I鈥檇 see at the May auction, which was three months away. 鈥淥h,鈥 he sighed, 鈥測ou will see high stress.鈥
* * *
A few months later, when I next met Haydock, there were just a few days to go until the May auction. As聽promised, stress was evident鈥攂ut the auction wasn鈥檛 the only reason for it. Three weeks earlier, Haydock and his wife, Sara, had welcomed their second child, a daughter. Haydock had temporarily moved from the family鈥檚 home聽in Westchester County to a hotel in the city, and his conscience was bothering him. 鈥淚 feel like I鈥檝e abandoned my family,鈥 he said.
At the auction house, Haydock led me into the public gallery where the works were on display. The O鈥橩eeffe was there, no larger than a newspaper but eye-catching with its bright carmine tones, as were other works. Pausing before one piece, Haydock suddenly became intense. Arthur G. Dove鈥檚 Nature Symbolized No. 1 (Roofs) 鈥渋s probably the first abstract painting ever exhibited in America,鈥 he said. 鈥淚ts importance cannot be overstated.鈥 He鈥檇 brought every prospective bidder in the auction to see it.
Haydock whisked me through the rest of the gallery. The auction was nearing and his time was short.
* * *
The next time I saw Haydock was the morning of the auction. For all its glamour, and for all the months
of buildup, the event itself was charmingly casual. Many people were wearing sneakers with their suits and dresses. I followed the crowd into a carpeted, tennis-court-sized space. A couple hundred chairs were laid out on the floor. If it weren鈥檛 for the artwork on the walls鈥攖he real stuff, not reproductions鈥攊t could have been any hotel conference room between London and Tokyo.
Along each sidewall was a wood dais lined with a bank of half a dozen phones, each manned by a Christie鈥檚 expert ready to take bids from collectors who couldn鈥檛 be in New York. Haydock was among them, on the left, the second phone of six.
The bidding began with little ceremony. John Hays, the auctioneer鈥攚ho鈥檚 also a Christie鈥檚 expert on American furniture鈥攔an through the rules and then launched right in. First up was Untitled (Lily), another O鈥橩eeffe, this one a pencil drawing. 鈥淲e can start the bidding at $17,000,鈥 Hays said. Bids began to ping: $20,000, then $22,000, $24,000, and so on, all the way up to $40,000. 鈥淎ll through?鈥 Hays asked. And it seemed for a moment as though it was, but then a new round of bidding started up. Finally, someone offered $70,000. Hays gave everyone a聽moment to consider, and then moved to close the sale. 鈥淟ast call, for $70,000,鈥 he said. 鈥淥nce, twice, for $70,000... and sold!鈥 He banged down聽his gavel. The whole thing took 1 minute and 50 seconds.
A broadly similar process played out over the next ninety minutes or so, with roughly eighty-five objects sold during the span. (Auctions, it turns out, are quick affairs.) Not everything created a bidding war. The O鈥橩eeffe floral painting, Inside Red Canna, wound up selling for $3.8 million, slightly less than the $4 million low end of its estimated range. The Hopper watercolor, meanwhile, went for $1.55 million, eclipsing its projected range.
Haydock, fielding bids on his phone, was quiet during these sales. But as the auction moved to the secondary works, things heated up. Operating on behalf of anonymous bidders, he 鈥渨on鈥 Thornton Utz鈥檚 ironic Resume Safe Speed oil painting for $100,000, well above its $70,000 estimate, and picked up a few other works for prices that exceeded expectations. Then came the bidding for a striking white-shrouded figure by Kenneth Miller Adams, a relatively minor Taos School artist. Its raw beauty had eclipsed the artist鈥檚 reputation, Haydock had previously told me. With a bidder on the line, Haydock started things at $170,000. Preregistered bids brought the price to $200,000. A bidder in the room immediately went to $220,000. Haydock鈥檚 phone bidder countered with $240,000. From there, the offers escalated. Haydock鈥檚 client eventually made it $380,000. A moment later, the price hit $400,000. 鈥淭hat鈥檚 against you, Will,鈥 Hays said to Haydock, in effect asking whether his buyer wanted to go higher. Haydock waved his hand, indicating that his client was out. 鈥淔our hundred thousand once, twice,鈥 Hays said, his hammer raised鈥攁nd then, a new bidder! 鈥淔our hundred and twenty,鈥 Hays announced. The surprise attack ended the bidding, and the Adams sold for $420,000, far above its $300,000 estimate.
The auction began to wind down and the room thinned out. Winning bidders headed to Christie鈥檚 sales office, while brokers and gallery owners gathered at the back of the room and began to discuss鈥攁t a volume that suggested they were happy for the world to eavesdrop鈥攖reasures they might make available at the next auction. For Haydock, the conclusion of the auction brought to end months of work and stress. Yet the last I saw of him he was already deep in conversation with what looked like potential clients鈥攂uyers and sellers both.
Tim Heffernan is a writer and longtime contributor to BCM. He lives in New York City.
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