Gant began spinning his tale about Big Blue Lavender Bay a year before the painting became available for sale. In October 2006, he told Archer that his friend and financier Robert Le Tet had a major Brett Whiteley Lavender Bay painting in his North Sydney apartment and was planning to sell it in a year’s time. Of course Archer was interested. When Le Tet was ready to sell, Gant should let her know. In November 2007, Gant called. Le Tet was ready to sell. The painting had come down from Sydney and Archer could see it at Le Tet’s office in South Melbourne.
On Friday 23 November 2007, Archer went to Le Tet’s company in Eastern Road, and climbed the stairs to a big back room. The only person in that room other than Archer was Le Tet’s secretary, Heather. Gant wasn’t there, nor was Le Tet. At the far end of the room was a table, and balanced on the table and leaning against the wall was Big Blue Lavender Bay. Heather tapped away on the computer, saying nothing, while Archer inspected the painting. She did not think it a great Whiteley, but she wasn’t expecting it to be at $2.5 million, a fair price for a painting of that size and date, a late Lavender Bay work, from 1988, not created during the height of the series in the 1970s. She photographed the painting, intending to send the images to her client, Andrew Pridham.
When she returned to her office she realised her photographs were out of focus. She called Gant’s personal assistant, Alexandra Hill, and explained the problem. The ever-efficient Hill said she would go and photograph the painting again for her. Hill emailed the photos to Archer that afternoon.
‘Peter Gant never uses email,’ Archer told me. ‘He never puts anything in writing. Everything from Peter Gant is verbal. He was always saying, “I will get Alex to send it to you.”’
On the Monday after seeing the painting at Le Tet’s office, Archer called Brett Lichtenstein. She wanted to make a few checks of her own. She asked Lichtenstein if she could email him images of Big Blue Lavender Bay for his verification. Her previous attempts to have Wendy Whiteley authenticate works had been so difficult that this time she went straight to the framer. She had met him in the past and he was genial and much easier to deal with than Wendy. Archer said that after seeing the images Lichtenstein told her, ‘I know that painting, that’s my frame.’
‘Well, you know, that’s as much as I needed,’ she told me. ‘I’ve seen it in Le Tet’s office, Brett Lichtenstein has verified it for me, he has told me it’s his frame. Gant never told me that, interestingly as it turns out. I don’t get Brett Lichtenstein to put it in writing, which in hindsight was a significant error on my part.’
Because Archer had received a ‘provenance story’ from Hill, she didn’t feel it important to get Lichtenstein’s verification in writing. The provenance story had it that Robert Le Tet had acquired Big Blue Lavender Bay directly from Brett Whiteley in 1988, negotiated through his studio assistant, Christian Quintas.
Satisfied with this story and her own inquiries into the artwork, Archer emailed Pridham images of the painting on 27 November 2007. She also called him that day and told him the painting had ‘impeccable’ provenance, relaying the story she had been told by Gant. She now rued her choice of that word—it ended up causing her such grief that she has banned it from her vocabulary.
The next day, Pridham called Archer and said he had thought about the painting overnight and wanted to buy it. He would pay the full price—$2.5 million. He had no need to see it first in person. He sent Archer a $100 000 deposit, which she transferred to Gant. On 11 December 2007, Pridham paid the balance, a day early, and Archer transferred $2.1 million to Gant, keeping her $300 000 commission. On 18 December 2007, Woollahra Art Removals picked up Big Blue Lavender Bay from Le Tet’s South Melbourne office and transported it to Pridham’s home in Mosman, Sydney. In all, a nice month’s work.
Except that four months later, things began to unravel. In April 2008, Pridham emailed Archer to say that Wendy Whiteley had seen Big Blue Lavender Bay and that she wanted to speak to Robert Le Tet. A month later, Archer heard from Wendy herself. That conversation was so unnerving that Archer still remembers where she was when she took the call—standing outside 2 Danks Street in Waterloo, Sydney.
Wendy had a problem with the painting, called it a ‘bad hair day Whiteley’. She wanted to see documents in relation to its provenance. Archer remained calm and told her that she would get a statement from Le Tet and send it to her. She also told Wendy that Lichtenstein had seen the work and said he had framed it. Wendy wanted to see Lichtenstein’s records of this.
When Archer followed up with Lichtenstein, he said his records from 1988 had been destroyed in a fire or flood—she couldn’t remember which, but it was something dramatic. With no documentation from Lichtenstein, Archer phoned Gant and said that Wendy was questioning the blue painting. He replied, ‘Oh, she fucking would.’ Archer told him she wanted a statement from Le Tet. Gant said he would organise it.
Archer waited for Le Tet’s statement. She waited months. Frustrated by the delay, on 28 October 2008, she drafted a statement herself, drawing on the information Gant had already given her, leaving gaps where additional information was needed. She emailed the statement to Hill and asked her to get Gant to fill in the blanks, and then have Le Tet sign the document so she could give it to Wendy. Several weeks later, Archer met Gant in Carlton and he gave her the document, signed by Le Tet but undated.
The signed document described in detail how Robert Le Tet came to buy not one, but two Lavender Bay paintings directly from Brett Whiteley’s studio. It included an image of one of those paintings—Big Blue Lavender Bay. Le Tet supposedly met Whiteley at his studio in early 1988. Between then and Whiteley’s July exhibition, Birds, Le Tet was in discussion with Quintas over the purchase of several paintings depicting Lavender Bay. In June 1988, Quintas sent several works for Le Tet’s consideration. The document didn’t state where or how these works were sent. In August, Le Tet finalised his purchase of two Lavender Bay works. The document also included some new information: it explained that before putting Big Blue Lavender Bay on the market, Le Tet sent it to Victorian Art Conservation, Siddique’s business, to be cleaned. In order to clean the painting, the original frame was removed and found to be badly damaged. Consequently a new frame was ordered and this was attached to the painting when the cleaning work was completed.
Archer immediately faxed the signed document to Wendy. She received no response and assumed all was fine.
In mid-2010, stories about the suspect Whiteleys hit the media. Archer recalled her reaction at the time: ‘I just felt sick.’
Nasteski had blown the whistle and was urging the Sydney owner of a $2.5 million Whiteley to come forward as he too might have been duped. In July 2010, Archer organised for Pridham’s Big Blue Lavender Bay to be sent to Robyn Sloggett for testing.
‘When this blows up the first thing I do is I speak to Gant and I demand Le Tet’s number and I phone him. Le Tet says, “Oh, I am really shocked. I can’t believe this, send me a photo, I don’t know what you are talking about.” So I send him an image of the work and about an hour later he emails me back to say he doesn’t know this work.’
But why had Archer left it until this late stage to speak to Le Tet? Couldn’t she have called him in November 2007 and confirmed that he was the owner of the painting? She explained that it was known that Gant was Le Tet’s agent, and the way one did business in the arts was through agents, and not directly with vendors.
Le Tet wasted no time distancing himself from Gant and Big Blue Lavender Bay. On 12 August 2010, he faxed Gant’s then barrister John Ribbands demanding, by the close of business Monday 16 August 2010, an ‘unequivocable statement’ from Gant that the provenance document he had given Archer had been neither written nor signed by him.
‘In the event that such is not in my hands by the required time, I will seek my own legal advice and act on it,’ Le Tet wrote.
While everyone around him was running for cover, Gant kept insisting that Big Blue Lavender Bay was authentic. Archer told
him she didn’t care whether it was ‘right’, she wanted her client’s money back and she didn’t want his name connected with this painting in any way. A contract was drawn up for Gant to repay Pridham’s money in full. But the money never arrived. Pridham eventually cracked. He told Archer that he’d had enough. If Gant wouldn’t pay the money, she would have to, or Pridham would sue.
‘And that’s when it all went pear-shaped,’ she said.
In the lead-up to the committal, Robert Le Tet had refused to make a statement to police. Why? Le Tet had been sourcing legitimate Whiteleys from Gant in 1988. Some magnificent Whiteleys. Had Gant pushed the boundaries of their relationship?
Surely the prosecution would subpoena Le Tet for the trial? If Le Tet testified in court that he had not owned Big Blue Lavender Bay, then Gant would have to explain just where the painting came from and who had owned it since 1988.
The State Library Victoria has a remarkable archive on Australian art history—more than 30 000 files on Australian artists and galleries, containing exhibition catalogues, invitations, press clippings and other ephemera.
Peter Gant is part of that rich history and his file told the story of a man who started out small with big ideals. In the library’s hushed, secure, appointment-only Heritage Collections Reading Room, I searched through files retrieved from storage as eagerly as a child hoarding a secret stash of sweets. I started with the file on Gant’s first business venture: Niagara Galleries, which he co-directed with William Nuttall. Early invitations for Niagara Galleries’s shows were endearingly basic: A4-size white pages typewritten in vintage Courier font, listing the names of artists to be exhibited. One invitation from 1982 included a helpful diagram: a section of the city grid with a black square marking the gallery’s location on tiny Niagara Lane off Lonsdale Street. The artists listed on the invitation were, in the main, left-leaning social realists: Herbert McClintock, Noel Counihan, Vic O’Connor, James Cant and Mary Hammond.
In an Age article of 1980, arts writer Susan McCulloch noted that an ‘unusual feature’ of Niagara was the consistent production of comprehensive, magazine-sized catalogues, with essays and many reproductions of the artists’ works. She noted too that the exhibition spaces were ‘carpeted and comfortable’, quoting Gant saying, ‘We want people to feel relaxed when they look at art.’ That year, Niagara hosted an exhibition of women’s art, in collaboration with the Women’s Electoral Lobby.
Gant and Nuttall’s early endeavours had made a difference to Melbourne’s cultural landscape. But five years later Nuttall was done with him. The business partnership was over. What had gone wrong?
The Peter Gant Fine Art catalogues from the late 1980s were elegant and glossy. He was dealing in major Australian artists including Margaret Preston, Grace Cossington Smith, Lloyd Rees, Fred Williams, John Perceval, Charles Blackman and, of course, Brett Whiteley. His Autumn Exhibition catalogue of 1988 had several great examples—including the three Whiteley paintings snapped up by Robert Le Tet—Arkie, Nude Beside the Basin and Woman, Basin and Heater.
I first looked through the State Library of Victoria file on Gant in early 2012, while still working for The Age. I had been trying to find a copy of the 1989 A Private Affair catalogue that Gant had presented as proof that Orange Lavender Bay was authentic. I found no such catalogue. But I chanced upon something intriguing: the item I’d now come back to look for, a change-of-address card.
Sent to Gant’s clients, the change-of-address card stated that from 1 September 1989, Peter Gant Fine Art would move to 377 Montague Street, Albert Park. When I cross-referenced the address with the address presented in the contentious November 1989 catalogue A Private Affair, I saw it was different. A Private Affair still had Gant’s old address on it, 268 Coventry Street, South Melbourne. Why? Was Gant operating out of two addresses at that time? What was I to make of this anomaly? Did it cast doubt on the legitimacy of the A Private Affair catalogue?
There were three paintings at the centre of the upcoming trial, but only two were in police hands. Orange Lavender Bay had been seized from the Toorak home of Steven Drake. Big Blue Lavender Bay had been volunteered by its disillusioned owner Andrew Pridham. But the third, Lavender Bay through the Window, had vanished. Detective Senior Constable Stefanec had told me that ‘it would be nice to get it off the market’, but that it wasn’t essential as a piece of evidence. I decided to try Guy Angwin, the café owner to whom Gant had given the painting in lieu of a $950 000 debt. He was among the last to see it. He might have some clues.
For twenty-three years Angwin had owned the popular Café Sweethearts in Coventry Street, South Melbourne. Gant, who for some of this time had a gallery across the road, would often drop in for a coffee and a chat. Angwin was keen to learn about art and Gant obliged. He impressed the restaurateur with his expertise and would often say to him, ‘Why are you hanging that on the wall? I can give you something better.’ Before long, Angwin was enmeshed in Gant’s world, lending him money to buy art. The dealer had sold him on a scheme: Gant would buy an artwork using Angwin’s funds, sell it at a profit, Gant and Angwin would then split the profit and Angwin’s share would go towards a more expensive artwork. Angwin’s reward was an increasingly valuable art collection. The plan, he said, wasn’t to make money, but to constantly upgrade his art.
‘I can put my hand on the Bible and say that it was never my intention to make money but to have some nice art, because I like art,’ he told me when I called.
He still had the first painting he bought from Gant. A little watercolour, a beach scene, by Frank Hinder. It cost $1500.
‘It’s absolutely exquisite,’ he said.
He was slightly nervous about talking to me, worried about how he’d be portrayed. Like so many caught up in this case, Angwin made decisions that he now regretted.
‘I’ve just been a dill, happy to take that rap and have done for the last few years,’ he said.
Greed, he said, blurred his vision. ‘I mean, do I need a picture worth $60 000 on the wall?’
A trim man with cropped grey hair and an amiable, elfin-like face, Angwin had appeared at the committal hearing and would be back in the witness stand for the trial.
‘They’ve subpoenaed me to come and give evidence. My story won’t change,’ he said.
In 2009, about eighteen years after they’d first met, Gant asked Angwin for a $950 000 loan. As usual, he needed the money for an ‘art deal’. He proposed to refund the money by paying Angwin a $200 000 deposit along the way and interest on the balance of the loan until it was repaid. Angwin agreed to the proposal. It was a verbal agreement. I was no business guru, but $950 000 seemed an absurd amount to lend someone on nothing more than their word. I just didn’t get it. Why was Angwin so trusting?
‘It’s my nature, I don’t lock my car,’ he said.
I didn’t find this the most convincing of answers. But Angwin explained that over the eighteen years that he’d known him, Gant had never let him down. When he did, the financial consequences for Angwin were ‘massive’.
Angwin had himself borrowed the $950 000 to give to Gant—taking an extension on his home loan. He told me he had to sell his Elsternwick home to meet the debt. Angwin’s trusting nature was beyond my comprehension.
He tried to recover his money. Every week he would ring Gant and ask when the money was coming, and every week Gant would tell him it wasn’t far off. Angwin kept hassling and Gant kept delaying. For months Angwin kept extending the loan. In mid-2010, Gant offered Angwin a Brett Whiteley painting as a pacifier—Angwin could keep the painting as a form of security on the loan. He told Angwin the painting was worth more than $950 000. Gant delivered the painting, a Lavender Bay scene, to Angwin’s Elsternwick home. Angwin didn’t bother hanging the work; he propped it up against the fireplace in the small study at the front of his house.
‘It wasn’t mine to hang,’ he said. ‘It was security, so why would I get emotionally attached to it? It was just Peter’s way of getting me off his ca
se.’
On 28 June 2010, Angwin sold Café Sweethearts. The timing couldn’t have been worse. Two days later he received a summons to attend court in relation to the complicated civil dispute brought by Robert Le Tet against auctioneer Rod Menzies over the Whiteley painting, View from the Sitting Room Window, Lavender Bay. (At Gant’s request, Menzies had paid $510 000 of the painting’s $825 000 asking price to Angwin’s company Whitrock Pty Ltd. As a result, Angwin was named as a ‘third party’ in the civil case.)
‘I sold my business and the next day I got a knock from the court. All he had to do was say, Guy, you know, shit might hit the fan the next couple of days, I wouldn’t sell your business.’
The proverbial kept hitting the fan. Angwin began fielding calls from the media asking questions about the Whiteley painting in his possession. I was among the journalists who called. In August 2010, he told me: ‘I took the picture as security and all of a sudden people are ringing me and telling me it’s fake and that I’m a crook.’
Alarmed by suggestions that the Whiteley could be fake, Angwin told Gant to take it back. He had no idea where the painting was now.
‘Peter told me that it went to John Ribbands’s office.’
So he didn’t have it any more?
‘God no, jeepers. I’d struggle to sleep at night having that thing in my house. Peter said, “I’ll give it to John Ribbands, he can hang it in his office and then it’s secure and everyone knows where it is, and you don’t need to worry, Guy, it’s there as collateral if you need it.”’
Angwin never saw the painting or his $950 000 again. He joined the trail of people owed money by Gant.
From: elmyr de hory 22/02/2016
To: Gabriella Coslovich
Gant has control of the painting and has buried it where it can’t be got at. If I knew it’s whereabouts I’d ring Jason Stephanic. I rang Crime Stoppers when I found out where Orange Lavender Bay was and the police raided Drake’s the next day.
Whiteley on Trial Page 15