I was saddened to hear Torben Kristiansen passed away earlier this year. Although I hadn’t seen him for quite some years, he was a larger-than-life mentor for me through my late 20s and early 30s as I began dipping my foot into the fine art world.
I first met Torben around 2003, shortly after graduating law school and at a time when I was trying to set up a practice that catered to artists and art dealers. While I ended up moving a different direction with my law practice, I was fortunate to build a great friendship with Torben.
I’ll never forget the first time entering the Art Emporium, his unassuming second-floor dealership on South Granville in Vancouver. Even though I knew I would be seeing originals by some of the best-known Canadian painters, I was totally unprepared for the historic, rare, and jaw-droppingly expensive collection of Canada’s most celebrated artists.
Walking from the main lobby/gallery into his back office was like walking through a cave of wonders, where each chamber revealed more treasure than the last. His office was covered floor to ceiling with rare paintings stacked up and against each other. Even more interesting was the casual way in which he would say “this is an original Tom Thompson from 1917” or “I just bought this Emily Carr for $1 million”, all while looking at the art with a mixture of awe and admiration as if he was looking at it for the first time. Here was a man who truly loved art.
Torben in the late 1970s (credit: Vancouver Sun)
During that first meeting he treated me, a cold-calling stranger, like a childhood friend. He showed me some of his most rare and expensive pieces, took me to lunch, and gave me a coffee table book on the Group of Seven.
That day was the start of a truly great friendship. I would drop in at his gallery every few months and he would inevitably show me some new pieces that he had purchased as well as regale me with stories from his childhood in Denmark, training as a fighter pilot in the Danish Air Force, and his life in the Canadian Art World, all punctuated with his big, infectious laugh.
We would always walk from his office down to Primo’s Mexican Grill on 12th, where I would sit in amazement as he quickly downed up to four margaritas in rapid succession. Some of his favourite stories are now legendary, including the one where he flew a fighter jet down the main street of his hometown, and his retelling of how he beat an unwarranted art auction price-fixing investigation. His stories were filled with laughter and him imitating giving the finger to incompetent authorities.
At some point he decided it was time for me to start collecting art. He called me up very excited, sometime in late 2005, and said he had found the perfect piece for me to purchase. He presented me a unique work by Jack Shadbolt, oil on board. One side of the piece was a landscape of Buccaneer Bay from around 1947. On the reverse side was an abstract from the 1970s, as Shadbolt had basically reused the board to create a new painting on the reverse side. So it was quite unique in that there were basically two paintings from two different periods of his career.
When Torben saw me look at the price tag, knowing that I had barely started my legal career, he told me to take the piece home with me and I could just pay for it later when I had the money.
As my life got busy, and my family began to grow, I saw him less often, but we still periodically had our lunches together at Primo’s. I also accompanied him several times to the Heffel Art Auction where he reigned king over the auction crowd, as people often would try to read his reaction to various pieces. I also got to join him one year at the Joyner Waddington auction in Toronto, where he introduced me to some other heavy-hitters in the art world.
Torben as I remember him (pictured with his daughter, Credit: Vancouver Sun)
Several years later in my early 30s, when life and its unforeseen expenses started catching up to me, I realized I hadn’t seen him in quite some time and I still had his yet-unpaid-for Shadbolt. I called him up and we spent a few minutes catching up. I told him I was not in a position to pay for the painting and that I had to return it. When I got to the gallery a couple days later, he had a cheque waiting for me for a few thousand dollars. When I asked what it was for, he told me that while I had the painting in my possession, its value had gone up, and the cheque represented the additional value I had “theoretically” made during that period. He insisted I keep the funds and put it toward my next art purchase when I could afford it.
It’s a gesture I’ll never forget. And now that Torben’s passed, I wish I had seen him one last time to let him know how his kindness that day means even more to me now with the passage of time and a little more maturity.
I think fondly of Torben and all I learned from him, his generosity, and the introductions he made for me in the art world. Looking back, I regret never getting a photo together or at the very least taking a photo with him and the Shadbolt piece, since it became such a defining mark in our friendship.
At the very least, I can pour a margarita and toast to his memory and the incredible mark he left on an impressionable young would-be art collector.
