Saatchi Yates a gallery in its infancy but showing signs of real maturity, postcode ambition and disruptive potential, like Miles Lewis-Skelley, reached a new level of accession, in honour of its Summer exhibition, entitled “Once Upon a Time in London”, coming live and direct from the mean streets of St James’s, the most ungentrifiable spot in the capital.
If you were having your arm twisted and had to compare this happening, to the prosaic one, that is the RA Summer Show, they both share transportation options and take ballsy approaches in order to attract an audience. The RA’s methodology on this front is delivered thanks to the conceptual spheres of Ryan Gander, the fourth greatest person to originate from Chester after Daniel Craig, Lewis Carroll & Michael Owen.
Saatchi Yates, have their own source of salvation and hype induction, by way of Slawn (Olaolu Akeredolu-Ale), The Yoruba Modiglini (kinda), by way of Lagos to London, Instagram and the world.
An artist at odds as to why he creates, but is driven in the compulsion to do so, whilst also employing his own creative director, because he is currently more in demand then the “Iron Dome”. Fortunate for the former, saddening for the later.
If you don’t believe the hype, check the queue photos.
If you don’t believe the gravitation pull of this 24-year-old skating, drinking, “Abstract expressioning” Father of two, “Enfant Terrible” (The Guardian 24/09/24), then all you needed to witness was the bass-heavy bangers emitting out of DJ AG system, which kept the crowd’s morale high at all times and is testament to his significance in the zeitgeistist hunger for urban culture.
Despite talking my way into the shorter of queues, progress wasn’t forthcoming and I was able to write an entire orchestral score and conduct it myself with a full ensemble and yet getting even close to the front seemed like just like a front .
Once I had finally made it past Saint Peter and convinced the gatekeepers that I had no more outstanding parking fines and was free to enter Heaven, the reality inside was more like Hell. A vision of Hades with a sweltering internal room temperature, thanks to the high density of sweating youth, perspiring with art enthusiasm, Summer & white wine.
It was hard to fully evaluate though , when all I wanted to do was urinate. Some, would be pissed off, with the lack of toilet options at such a chic event, given attendees generally speaking, looked human and spoke human.
Thoughts turned to the press release and how much better it would have been if Chat GPT had written it This document shed no light on the membership scheme, only its existence and trailblazing approach, in doing so, being the first commercial gallery to attempt this brave offering, for the great of all gallery kind. Celebs for promised, cosplaying as attendees for this opening such as Electro Pop Priestess , LA Roux, but I couldn’t go in the for the kill, as I really needed the loo .
I found temporary solace in Bacon, not in a bap, but on the wall, via a forced triptych of portraits showcasing the textbook Bacon facial flutter, which were given their own steroid-sponsored security personnel, to guard.
Such works by Francis Bacon, Gilbert & George, Damien Hirst & Frank Auberbach, blue-chipping up the tone of the show, were all possible thanks to the Galleriest’s Daddy, Charles Saatchi.
Of course, the name above the threshold has put the nepotism police on high alert. But one would struggle to keep the family flavour going without it, in such a challenging arena of commerce. Daddy Saatchi, whilst, once upon a time being one of the most important taste makers in contemporary art has over time managed to throttle his way out of relevance. His relationship in his ultra prime with his Brother Maurice , showed the power of effective partnership like that of Saatchi Yates as Gallerists, like all good double acts, Batman & Robin, Morecambe and Wise, clearly know what they are doing.
They have taken their silver spoons and swapped them for even larger and more ornate, utensils, in order to serve up exactly what Gen Z want: Trap, Spray Paint and a living Hypebeast, Deity in the form of Slawn.
Now they’ve let people become part of this congregation for a monthly fee, a bold move in a time of art market contraction, confusion and conservatism ( the three C’s) there is no doubt the upper echelons of the gallery world will be taking note of Saatchi Yates, not simply because they fancy a piece of Slawn, but to see how they too, can also bottle lighting as impressively as Phoebe Saatchi Yates and Arthur Yates.
Once Upon A Time in London, 12th June -17th August 2025 Saatchi Yates
