After decades in ‘cultural desert’ Hong Kong, my UK home is a gallery of art from the city and China
- The paintings on the walls of Cliff Buddle’s new home in the UK wouldn’t be contenders for the Turner Prize, but they are rich in memories of Asia
- From a souvenir of his first visit to China, to his son’s rendition of a Van Gogh, and an enigmatic painting of eight bowls, they reflect his time in Hong Kong
For much of the time I lived in Hong Kong, the city was routinely described as a cultural desert. If that was ever true, it cannot be said now.
As the many events marking Art March demonstrate, Hong Kong is working hard to establish itself as a cultural hub bridging China and the West.
Now back in England, I have the opportunity to enjoy London’s multitude of art events, galleries and museums.
But art, no matter what form it takes, is very much a matter of personal taste. The pictures I use to adorn the walls of my house wouldn’t be contenders for the Turner Prize. But they serve as evocative reminders of my former life in Hong Kong.
One painting, perhaps of the Duke of Wellington, has been with me since I was a kid. It is dated 1971. I used to think that soldier was guarding me. I could never bring myself to part with it. The painting travelled with me to Hong Kong and back.
Another work was bought in Guilin, on my first trip to mainland China in 1995. It features peach blossom and is painted in a classical Chinese style.
Hong Kong’s skyline is best in the world; London, Shanghai just don’t compare
It is typical of the sort of pictures bought by tourists at that time. But for me, it conjures up the excitement of that initial foray over the border.
On the eve of Hong Kong’s return to China in 1997, I acquired a photographic composition from a gallery in Mui Wo. It features a local barrister looking back reflectively along with an image of the national flag. It struck a chord with me as I was a court reporter at the time.
The picture seemed to reflect the uncertainties of the handover. I wonder what that lawyer would be thinking now.
A little antique shop, also in Mui Wo, sold me a painting of eight almost identical red rice bowls in a grid. There is a space where the ninth should be. I have spent much time over the years pondering the meaning of the missing bowl. The picture now, appropriately, takes pride of place in my kitchen.
Most of the art on the walls of my many rented flats in Hong Kong were occupied with my son’s childhood efforts. His interpretation of Van Gogh’s chair is impressive (surely better than the original) and now on display in our house.
More recently, as an adult, he created a textured, abstract image with plaster. The artistic process was messy! But the picture now forms the perfect centrepiece for the conservatory.
I hope Art Week in Hong Kong concludes successfully. Long may artistic freedom flourish, among the changing political winds, and continue to challenge us, entertain us, and rekindle our memories.
