3 Tastemakers On The Art They Love

I remember buying my first painting at a market in France about 20 years ago. Going to brocantes was such a great way to discover different categories of art and objects. I felt very excited as I had recently moved from Seoul, so the European market culture was a joy to experience. 

I never consciously thought, “Oh I'm going to start collecting art.” I love physical objects and I like having them around me day to day. Whether they're rare designer chairs, lamps, paintings or ancient sculptures, one by one they became a collection. I remember British Vogue asking if they could photograph my designer chairs, and that was the first time I realised I had amassed a collection.

I need to have an emotional connection with the piece or with what the artist is trying to communicate. I can then be adventurous in what I collect while still maintaining a cohesive thread throughout the collection.

I grew up in a household filled with Korean antiques and small objects collected during my mother's travels. She was a fashion designer and interior designer, and is now a painter and curator. That definitely played a part in how I see and appreciate unusual and unique things. Growing up in Asia and now living in the Western world has also broadened my perspective. 

These days, I often find artists online. It's much easier to discover emerging artists. I usually follow an artist over time to see how they develop. I regularly visit galleries in London and abroad when I'm travelling. I also make a point of seeing graduate shows at schools such as Goldsmiths, the Royal Academy Schools and Slade. Platforms like Artsy are also great for discovering new work. I come across so many talented young artists who deserve more opportunities to exhibit their work. It can be incredibly challenging unless you're represented by a major gallery.

In 2024, I curated a show called As She Is. It featured a range of established and emerging female artists, including Chantal Joffe, Antonia Showering and Angela de la Cruz. Since then, I've started curating intimate exhibitions at our 86 Golborne Road space and our Soho store to connect our community with emerging artists. If you discover an artist you love on Instagram, don't be afraid to reach out to them directly.

All of my purchases are emotional and somewhat impulsive. But I've never regretted any of them because they came from a genuine love for the work. You can always make a piece of work somewhere. 

It depends largely on the artwork, but I tend to favour relatively simple framing. I usually prefer timber frames and generally avoid anything too chunky or ornate, as I like the focus to remain on the artwork itself. A linen mount can look incredibly smart and add a subtle layer of texture. For me, framing should complement the piece rather than compete with it. 

I'm inclined to experiment and move art around. I love the new lease of life a piece can get when it's moved to a different room or paired with different objects. Moving house is particularly exciting, as artworks often reveal themselves in completely new ways when placed in a different setting. 

If you’re starting out collecting art, I’d say start small and don't put too much pressure on yourself. You don't need to begin with a major investment or have perfectly defined taste. Visiting galleries, art fairs and curated platforms can be a great way to start understanding what you are naturally drawn to. 

There are so many artists I’m excited about right now. I love the work of Wayne Pate, whose pieces often find their way into our projects. 

If I could acquire any artwork in the world, I’d choose something by Lucian Freud. I have always loved his work. The way he captures form is extraordinary and his paintings have such presence. For me, his understanding of the human figure is perfection.

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My first art purchase was a photograph by the Chinese photographer Ren Hang, who sadly passed away at 27. I had to find a way to access the sale (through an older friend of mine who was already a collector) as the gallery was checking which collection it would go into (how snobby of them!).

I was collecting in my own way from a very young age, although I had no idea what ‘collecting art’ meant. My parents weren’t collectors, but I remember framing drawings made by my sister, friends and classmates, and decorating my room with them. I bought my first artwork as soon as I had an income, using my very first salary after graduating at 23. Looking back, it feels like a natural continuation of something I had been doing since childhood: surrounding myself with images and objects that I felt connected to.

My taste has certainly evolved as I’ve become more knowledgeable and exposed to more art, but I still love the pieces I bought 15 years ago. That tells me I’ve remained quite true to my instincts and haven’t allowed myself to be overly influenced by trends or outside opinions.

I find it difficult to describe my taste because my response to art is deeply emotional. I can’t always explain why I’m drawn to a particular piece – I simply know when it moves me. What has become clearer over time is what doesn’t resonate with me. While I appreciate its place in the art world, performance and conceptual art rarely provoke the emotional response I’m looking for.

I wouldn’t say I consciously set out to develop an eye for art. I’ve always been naturally drawn to creativity and making things, and I’ve always been curious. As a teenager, I would take myself to museums and gradually started reading about the artists I loved – not in an academic way, but simply out of admiration for people who could convey such powerful emotions through their work.

Over time, my taste developed quite organically through looking, feeling, and following what genuinely resonated with me. I think my relationship with art has always been driven more by instinct and emotion than by any formal approach.

I don’t need a wall text or an explanation to tell me what I should feel. That’s often my issue with much contemporary art. Too much of it seems to rely on the story, concept, or artist statement to give the work meaning. If the piece isn’t visually stimulating or compelling on its own, and needs a lengthy explanation to make it interesting, it usually doesn’t resonate with me.

I don’t have one signature framing style that I apply to everything. For me, it depends entirely on the artwork. I see the frame as an extension of the piece, so I try to choose something that complements it rather than competes with it. Some works need a more traditional frame, others look better with something very simple and understated. What stays consistent is that I never want the frame to be the first thing you notice. The artwork should always be the focus. If a frame helps the piece feel complete and allows it to sit comfortably in a space, then it's doing its job.

I carefully plan where I’m going to hang my art. I often Photoshop the room to scale and test different artworks and arrangements before anything goes on the wall. Once a piece is hung, it’s usually because I’ve considered the wall's proportions, the lighting, and the surrounding furniture. As a result, it tends to stay there for quite a while.

My advice would be to trust your own eye and not worry too much about what you think you should like. The best collections are built around genuine curiosity and personal connection, not trends or investment value. Start with works that you enjoy living with and that make you feel something. You don’t need a large budget or extensive knowledge to begin collecting. The more exhibitions you visit and the more art you see, the more confident your taste will become. Most importantly, buy art because you love it. You’ll be living with it every day, so your emotional response to the work matters far more than anyone else’s opinion.

There are so many new artists I’m into right now, but a few that come to mind are Raya Kassisieh, whose work I only recently discovered and immediately fell in love with. Her monumental copper flowers have an incredible presence and feel both delicate and powerful. I'm also a great admirer of Alma Berrow. I think she’s one of the most exciting ceramic artists working today. Her work is witty, tongue-in-cheek, and often speaks to me on a very personal level. Another artist I love is Jack Eaves, from whom I bought a piece a few years ago. His animated screens, depicting trans women’s faces continuously morphing into one another, are both technically impressive and deeply moving. The list could honestly go on and on. Discovering artists and following their journeys is one of the most enjoyable parts of collecting for me.

The piece in my collection with the most personal significance is a drawing by Lucian Freud depicting two women in conversation – one older and one younger. I’ve always felt that it represents the two voices within me: the voice of reason and the voice of innocence, the dreamer. 

If I could, I would happily move the entire Peggy Guggenheim Collection in Venice into my home. What I admire most about it is its extraordinary concentration of masterpieces, but also the vision behind it. She collected with conviction and instinct, supporting artists she believed in long before they became household names. The collection spans so many artists and movements that have shaped my understanding of modern art, and every time I visit, I discover something new. If forced to choose a single work, I’d struggle. I’d much rather inherit Peggy’s eye than any one painting, but I’d take René Magritte’s The Empire of Lights from 1954, as I am a true surrealist movement fan. I would also have the mirrors sold at a record price at Sotheby’s recently in New York, made by Claude Lalanne.

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