LONDON — Households with conspicuous art collections are not exactly rare in this global financial capital. But this one in Mayfair embraces a tradition of regular buffet dinners of Persian cuisine, a treat for artists and art lovers both.
For the last couple of decades, the Iranian-born Fatima Maleki and her husband, Eskandar, have been donors to museums such as the Tate, helped found new prizes and collected art, as well as hosting artists at Ms. Maleki’s famous dinners. At vast tables, guests fill their plates with foods redolent of Iran, like albaloo polo, a rice dish made with sour cherry, and pomegranate stew eaten over saffron rice.
In the spacious entrance is a towering iron sculpture of a pixelated figure by the British sculptor Antony Gormley. It takes the place of an earlier Gormley featuring spikes that ripped guests’ clothing and got tangled with their handbags. Upstairs is a lush green-and-red painting by Chris Ofili that Ms. Maleki bought at a Sotheby’s auction in 2009, drawing media coverage with her high bid.
The Malekis last saw their country 40 years ago. They became exiles when Shah Mohammad Reza Pahlavi was overthrown in the Islamic revolution of 1979, while they were traveling in France. Like many exiled Iranians, the Malekis had to start over from scratch. They lived in Oregon, Austria, Germany and eventually Britain, as Mr. Maleki’s businesses in oil and gas took off. They raised two sons, one of whom is active in the art world.
On a recent morning, Ms. Maleki settled on a sofa beneath “San Loreto,” a giant Anselm Kiefer painting, to discuss her art collecting. These are edited excerpts from the conversation.
How did you get into buying art?
The first purchase was a small painting by Pieter Bruegel the Younger. We have maybe 30 old masters in the collection — works by Bruegel and Lucas Cranach the Elder.
We quickly switched to contemporary. One day, an architect and collector friend said: “Do you know contemporary art? My advice is, go educate yourself.” So I went to classes. Another world opened to me. It was a living art, because you could see the artist, you could talk to the artist.
What did you buy?
At the beginning, we bought a lot of young artists. We opened our house and did dinners because we wanted to connect people. Someone I know said: “Why don’t you start by inviting young artists that nobody invites? Go to the East End of London, go to the studios, and connect them with collectors and galleries, because people invite collectors but don’t invite artists.”
So we would go to the East End and invite them. They would say, “Why would I come to your house for dinner?” They were shocked.
Eventually, collectors met their artists here, artists met their patrons here. To date, we have been invited to 11 or 12 weddings of people who met in this house. It was a very happy house.
Prices of art have soared in the last couple of decades. Do you think the art bubble will burst?
No — as long as there is money and there is art, there will be people paying for it. I think the bubble of the very young artists has burst.
Nowadays, you buy a work by a young artist, let’s say, for $10,000. Months later, it goes up to $100,000 or $150,000. Everybody who bought it for $10,000 puts it in the auction house and completely kills the artist.
It’s scary for people like us, because we don’t have billions — we don’t spend that kind of money — and we really look into what we buy. We want to help the young artist develop a career in art. Young artists should be bought and kept and nourished, and not flipped. It’s the flipping that has damaged them.
What was it like to leave Iran behind?
It was terrible — like cutting your umbilical cord. It was a shock. It meant leaving family behind, leaving my grandmother’s lunches behind, leaving the gardens behind, the smells — I still remember the smells in Iran.
One day I hope to go back.
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