I had no idea you could freely walk around an auction house, surrounded by objects that people and institutions might soon buy. As I wandered through the rooms, I felt almost like a fraud for being there without any intention of purchasing anything. A few people were clearly just browsing like me, mostly classmates, but the rest seemed like actual collectors: people who might genuinely be deciding whether to acquire an Art Deco chair, a Basquiat sketch, or a Tiffany necklace.
Before coming, I assumed I would only be looking at objects and artworks. I never imagined that live auctions were happening right there. Or that anyone could simply walk into one.
But as I was encouraged to do, I headed to the mezzanine on the second floor, where I’d heard a watch auction was taking place. I didn’t think I’d actually be allowed in, but I went anyway. I walked up the stairs, turned left, and followed a hallway straight into a Christie’s live auction of fine watches. There weren’t many people: maybe twenty men and women seated in front of the auctioneer, and five others off to the right, each on the phone, presumably taking bids from collectors around the world.
There was one bid on a Charles Frodsham clock, circa 1917. I was fascinated by this bid. It started at 200 thousand dollars, which is a lot of money, and the bidding just kept going up and up and up. Everyone in the room was so excited, and the auctioneer was talking so fast that I could barely hear what she was saying. New bids came in every minute, and at one point, I even caught myself wondering if I could raise my hand and pretend to join in. Maybe I’ll try that next time.
The bidding finally ended at nine hundred thousand dollars. Almost a million for a small watch. I couldn’t stop wondering who bought it, and what it will mean to them or what they’ll do with it.
When walking around in the main auction house with all the furniture, I was struck by this 2010 chair created by Ron Arad. I felt fascinated by this piece because it was a chair, yet it felt more like a functional artwork than a conventional furniture piece. That is my favorite kind of design, where art and function coexist.
It was so sculptural and beautiful that I genuinely wanted to sit in it, just to understand how it felt. The surface shimmered as it curved, almost as if the object were alive.
Its form looked almost liquid, with flowing lines that made it feel both futuristic and biomorphic. I loved the tension in that contrast: a soft, fluid silhouette made from a rigid, industrial material. Industrial and organic. It is a beautiful contradiction.
The last piece I was drawn to was in the Post-War and Contemporary Art section. It was Alexander Calder’s Midsummer Night’s Dream from 1953. I was pulled toward it because I’ve only ever seen Calder’s mobiles, never his more traditional artworks, so it was interesting to see this completely different side of him. A medium I hadn’t seen before. It almost felt like a sketch for his kinetic work. His mobiles are so alive: moving, clean lines, clean shapes, nothing out of place, everything perfectly balanced.
But this piece was different. It was a bit messy. Rough around the edges. Not perfect. You could still tell it was a Calder, I recognized it from far away, but at the same time it felt so different from what I usually associate with him. The only things that carried over were the shapes and the overall theme. This piece felt very 2D, while his mobiles are 4D, being alive in space and time.
And that’s exactly why I loved this piece: it showed the other side of Calder, the part that isn’t polished, floating, and “perfect,” but the part that experiments and sketches.
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