In Conversation With Brian Sewell

by Andi Godfrey




I have just been talking dogs to art historian and critic, Brian Sewell, and despite having to struggle against the inconsiderate builders working two floors above me who continued to hammer in harmony with our conversation, it was a most pleasurable 30 minutes, one that I will always remember.

We began by discussing the dog ban on the Inglis Barracks Estate, Mill Hill East.  Brian was horrified.  His first reaction was,

“This has to be illegal.  It is beyond human decency, a serious injustice.  Apart from those silly people with status dogs, cats or dogs are good companionship and are 99% beneficial to humans.”

“Of course, status dogs shouldn’t been wandering loose on the estate but this action against innocent dog lovers is totally unacceptable.”

“What about the ward councillors who should be on one’s side?”  He asked.

I mentioned that I had spoken to ‘former’ MP for Hendon Andrew Dismore who had explained that, although he is a dog lover, he is unable to deal with the matter because once the general election was announced he is no longer in Office. 

“How extraordinary! Does he think he’s in a kind of limbo?”

“It sounds like an awfully good excuse to me and he is too busy with the election campaign to bother with this matter.”

The injustice to the residents of the Inglis Barracks Estate was obviously still preying on his mind but I turned our conversation to the Mayhew Animal Rescue Centre of which Brian is one of the patrons.

He began to reminisce,

“Some ten years ago I was at the Mayhew doing some charity funding work.  It was just before Easter.  I walked through the kennels and one dog caught my eye.  I continued through into the next room but when I returned, she caught my eye again.  It was just like the song, ‘I felt her call me across a crowded room.’ Do you know the one?”

I believe he was referring to ‘Some Enchanted Evening’ from South Pacific.  It is interesting that Brian had made this comment.  I have always felt that some dogs, and particularly the rescued ones, choose their new owners. When this dog spotted Brian, she obviously recognised the start of a beautiful relationship.  

 “That night,” Brian told me, “I hardly slept. The next morning I rang the Mayhew to ask if I could give her a home. They were delighted but wanted to know if I was quite sure. Apparently the dog had been at the Mayhew for a long time.”

“I picked her up the same day.  It was Good Friday and it was the very best of Fridays.”

“What breed is she?” I asked.

 “She is an Alsatian.”

Being a fellow ‘Alsatian’ owner, I became very excited.   “What is she called?”

“Winckelmann, ” said Brian.

“I am sorry.  Could you say that again?” 

Brian chuckled, “Winckelmann.  She is a German dog.  I thought she should have a German name.”

I asked how old she was and heard the sadness in Brian’s voice as he told me she was eleven and a half.

“She’s a good age.”  I said and instantly regretted it.  I had not meant to sound dispassionate it was simply that I could empathise.  Our greyhound is twelve and half and I knew exactly what was passing through Brian’s thoughts. 

“I had three dogs but my whippet died last year.  She was a tiny, tiny whippet but she has left the biggest hole.”

We discussed the bereavement of our beloved pets and agreed that the pain and grief does not lessen with each experience, but if anything becomes worse. 

It would have been churlish not to ask a critic his opinion on dogs in art, so I carefully prefaced my next question with...

“I warn you, I’m a complete philistine when it comes to art, but what is your favourite dog painting?”

Brian was laughing again.  “I don’t think I have one.”

“There are paintings of dogs I enjoy in other compositions.  You can see when an artist is more interested in the dog than subject he is painting.”

I was fascinated by this observation and said that I would pay closer attention in future.

“Yes do.  Walk into any portrait gallery and notice the dogs that have been particularly well executed.”

“We have just spent £50 million pound on a Titian for the National Gallery.  At the corner of the painting there are two dogs barking at each other.  You don’t need to look at the rest of the painting to know
what it is about; the dogs say it all.”

I was afraid that I might have taken up too much of Brian’s time and I scrambled to think of the most illuminating question with which to finish our interview.  I had a complete blank and admitted it, so I said,

“Do you have anything particular that you would like to say to dog lovers?”

“I don’t think so, but I do have a message for non dog lovers; try to understand what dog lovers feel about their dogs.  No matter how important the crises, always be sympathetic to a dog lover.  Taking a dog would be like taking a child or treasured possession from one.  It should be unthinkable.”

Clearly the Inglis Barracks estate story was still in his thoughts.

“Thank so much.  You couldn’t have said anything better for London Dog Forum.  The primary focus of the website is on the human/dog relationship and how valuable dogs are in our lives.” I said expecting our conversation to come to an end. I was mistaken.

“Some years ago a girlfriend’s mother had a stroke and was taken to hospital.  I had a little whippet at the time and she begged me to smuggle the dog into the hospital to visit her mother.”

“What was the dog’s name?”  I asked.

“Hecate.  As pronounced in the Greek.”

“How do you spell it?”

“H E C A T E.”

Still the penny had not dropped and Brian politely added,

“It comes from Macbeth – the three witches.”

I am feeling a complete fool.  Of course, I should have known this, and now, as I write, it is all coming back.  Hecate is the goddess of witchcraft and appears before the witches and demands to know why she has not been included in their meetings with Macbeth.  I blamed my temporary ignorance onto my theatrical past, where I learned that any mention of the ‘Scottish’ play brings fear into every actor’s heart and is best avoided unless appearing in a production of said play! 

Brian continued with his story,

“I stuffed Hecate under my jumper and walked into the hospital ward and tossed the little dog onto her bed.  The woman’s eyes shone.  It was the first real sign of life or movement and I am sure it was the turning point to her recovery.”

Not only is Brian Sewell a genius of the art world, but he is a warm and sensitive person with a wicked sense of humour and a true understanding of the human/dog relationship.  It has been an enormous privilege to have spoken with him. 

Thank you, Brian for your time and patience.