Steve Lazarides is a happy man. ‘I wake up every morning feeling like I’ve won the lottery.’, And he has every reason to be. Not only is he one of London’s most successful gallerists, curators and art dealers, he is also one of the best liked. This popularity may be due to his straight-talking, potty-mouthed, no-holds-barred nature. Brought up in Bristol, he has no formal training in art history. ‘As far as I’m concerned,’ he says, looking directly into my eye, ‘if you think those fucking sunflowers are ugly, then they’re ugly.’
It was in Bristol that he first made the acquaintance of the (now) famous graffiti artist Banksy. It was street art that first drew Lazarides into the world of galleries; he had been working as a photographer (‘I fucking hated that’) when he started the website Pictures on Walls. Essentially a huge selection of high-quality prints of street and contemporary art, Pictures on Walls was a massive, and, for Lazarides, gratifying success. Selling the likes of Invader, Gold Peg, Kid Acne and Eric the Dog – if you haven’t heard of them, you’re way behind – the ethos behind Pictures on Walls is the democratization of the once elitist art world. ‘The thing that I’m proudest of,’ he says, ‘ is making hundreds of thousands of people who buy the prints feel that art isn’t just the preserve of the rich.’
But it’s not just art-for-the-masses that gets Lazarides going. His eponymous Fitzrovia gallery houses a changing series of exhibitions of ‘fine art.’ It seems incongruous to use such an exclusive, old-world word when describing anything that this maverick does – but what is shown in the gallery is often on a canvas, even if wildly unconventional in other ways. He has shown Polly Morgan and Jonathan Yeo, as well as Know Hope, JR and Oliver Jeffers. Nevertheless, Lazarides isn’t drawn by commercial nous, and instead his policy is to show things that he himself enjoys. ‘I’m absolutely shit at running a company. But I am good at creative ideas,’ he admits.
In his office on the top floor, he is a bustling whirlwind of energy. The staircases are painted in psychedelic murals and there are books and canvases scattered around. The effect is much like visiting an eccentric uncle: for one thing, Lazarides makes all of his notes with a fountain pen; for another, he darts around, showing me different catalogues and speaking rapidly and vehemently about the modern art world. ‘Some of the other galleries, I won’t name names for once, are shops for bad art,’ he declaims, while saying that his gallery is ‘more a ‘homework’ gallery than a ‘hit’ gallery’.
For a man who so espouses a modern, equalitarian view of the art market, Lazarides’s methods of communication are decidedly old-fashioned. He hates email, and hardly ever checks his. ‘I don’t think it’s a healthy way to live, being on call 24 hours a day. I can instantly switch off.’ Down-time is clearly important to him: he lives in south London, within a mile radius of where he lived when he first came to the city, with his wife of 20 years and their three children. Weekends are spent ‘playing with the kids, or watching football,’ or, best of all, escaping to the country for a spot of ornithology. ‘Being on the salt marshes in Norfolk is where I’ve had all my best ideas.’
The thing that really gets him going, though, remains art, which he is clearly passionate about. ‘Art is a basic human need,’ he pronounces, ‘whether it’s in a mud hut in Africa or on the walls of a penthouse in New York.’ It’s this enthusiasm, and his total lack of pretension and snobbery, that have made him such a hit. ‘I tend to have quite a populist eye,’ he says thoughtfully. ‘I’m trying to appeal to 30 million members of the public, not 30 critics.’ And he has huge faith in the public, and their appreciation of art. If he could stage an exhibition anywhere, it would be ‘slap bang in the middle of Oxford street’ because ‘the general public’s capacity for really dark art amazes me. I want them to feel welcome, not greeted by some sneery Eastern European in a suit with a clipboard.’ Another option is Tiananmen Square. It may sound crazy, but it’s not a million miles away – the Lazarides galleries are expanding, with a few international shows on the cards in the next year or so.
Meanwhile, he’s just plugging on, making one madcap idea after another come true with his imagination and energy. ‘I didn’t set out to break the rules,’ he says. ‘I just didn’t know what the fucking rules were.’,
By Violet Hudson
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