Original railway art sold at railwayana auctions in 2023

This account covers the sale of original paintings of Britain’s railways at the main railwayana auctions up to the end of 2023. Other auction house and fine art sales that may also have included railway paintings are not listed. Of the main railwayana auction houses that attracted most advertised artwork lots in 2023, GWRA, GCRA and GNRA, remained as online sales, continuing the pattern established during the restrictions associated with Covid. Talisman in Nottinghamshire have bucked the trend, successfully returning to live events at the Newark Showground. The operators will have saved on outgoings by not running live events, but the theatre of the live auction is impossible to recreate via a computer monitor.

The number of original railway paintings sold at railwayana auctions rose steadily from 32 in 2011 to 144 in 2021, but has fallen back since then to 71 by 2023. The number of railway artists represented followed a similar pattern, up from 25 in 2011 to 59 in 2021 and then down to 32 in 2023. In 2023, ten paintings by six different artists reached or surpassed a £1,000 hammer price at railwayana auctions. The number of paintings sold in this way since 2011 and the artists concerned were:

2011 - 3 paintings, by Heiron [2], Broom,

2012 - 3 paintings, by Bottomley, Hawkins, Broom,

2013 - 8 paintings, by Broom [2], Breckon [2], Heiron, Root, Price, Freeman,

2014 - 7 paintings, by Root [3], Elford, Breckon, Freeman, Hawkins,

2015 - 11 paintings, by Breckon [3], Hawkins [2], Root [2], Beech, Ellis, Elford, Price.

2016 - 13 paintings, by Breckon [4], Price [3], Hawkins [2], Freeman, Root, Broom, Greene                

2017 - 7 paintings, by Freeman [2], Price [2], Broom, Root, Breckon,

2018 - 9 paintings, by Hawkins [4], Breckon [2], Price [2], Root,

2019 - 9 paintings, by Breckon [4], Broom, Cuneo, P. O. Jones, Root,

2020 - 7 paintings, by Price [4], Freeman, P. O. Jones, Shelbourne,

2021 - 11 paintings, by Breckon [3], Price [3], Hawkins [2], Fearnley, Broom, Freeman,

2022 - 9 paintings by Breckon [5], Root [2], Price [2],

2023 - 10 paintings by Breckon [5], Fearnley, Root, Heiron, Hammonds, Marshall,

The work of a relatively small group of favoured contemporary railway artists continues to sell at well above the rates achieved more generally. Over the last thirteen years, works by Don Breckon [30], Barry G. Price [18], Malcolm Root [13], Philip D. Hawkins [12], Gerald Broom [8] and Barry Freeman [7] have been most prominent in this category. Don Breckon’s painting, The Haymaking [1987], sold for a hammer price of £5,500 at GWRA, in March 2023. The leading railwayana auction houses keep archives of the results of previous sales on their websites, where it’s possible to see images of the paintings themselves and the sums that they reached.

Paintings by Terence Cuneo and David Shepherd - both former fellows of the Guild of Railway Artists - appear infrequently at railwayana auctions. Both artists are recognised nationally as having a wider remit than just for their railway pictures. Hoping that examples of their railway work could therefore appeal to a wider range of prospective buyers, potential vendors might logically prefer the fine art or general auction house sale option, instead. For those artists who are primarily [or solely] known as railway artists, the railwayana auction route may be considered as the more logical route to take, so, perhaps a case of playing it safe by reaching out to the already converted!

 This painting of a 1960s shed scene by Chris Holland was one of those sold at a railwayana auction in 2023. 

Glasgow Central

If Queen Street was all about the glass, then the first impression I gained on arrival at Glasgow Central was that this one was all about the wood. Though this turned out not to be the whole story, the large oval-shaped former booking office and train information building that was added to the concourse at the start of the twentieth century, and which now serves as a restaurant, still gives the station an initial and distinctive appeal today.

Scotland’s busiest station was built in 1879 by the Caledonian Railway. It’s got a good bustle about it that befits its location and the terminus of the WCML from London Euston, and like Queen Street, it is also hemmed in within the central area of the city. It is approached by rail over the bridge that straddles the River Clyde. The main pedestrian entrance is marked by ornate and substantial iron gates and a lengthy porte cochere that opens up onto Gordon Street. Above that is the old Grand Central railway hotel, which was added in 1884. The station concourse gains light from a vast overall glass roof, which then extends over the platforms, giving the whole entity a real sense of importance. Simon Jenkins gave it five stars in his book, Britain’s 100 Best Railway Stations, describing it as the “custodian of the city’s soul”.

         

Stirling Station, 1887

William Kennedy [1859-1918] was a Scottish artist and part of the Glasgow School, perhaps better known as the Glasgow Boys. A selection of their work was on display at the Kelvingrove Art Gallery and Museum during our recent visit to the city. What an extraordinary building it is, described as Spanish Baroque in style, and proudly announcing the second city of the Empire as a major cultural centre, in addition to ship building, manufacturing and commerce. You need to give it a few hours once there, helped along by a café in the main entrance hall, a very reasonably priced restaurant below stairs and free organ recitals to see you through lunchtime in splendid fashion.

William Kennedy attended Paisley School of Art before moving to Paris for further study. At his studio in Stirling, he painted landscapes and military subjects, but luckily also this one of the station, which was the only railway painting I found displayed on the day. The twilight scene surely has both Impressionist and late twentieth century Realist elements. It shows a busy platform and quite a lot of activity on the adjacent lines, as well. The lad selling goods from his basket was likely to be well rewarded for his efforts.

      

Farnsfield’s Shanks and McEwan Connection

[With thanks to Gill Sarre, Secretary of Farnsfield Local History Society, for providing the images and prompting this article, which can also be found in the current FLHS newsletter. They are an intriguing set of snaps and there may be more to the story than this, so, if anyone can add any more details or correct any misinterpretations, I’d be pleased to hear from them. My account is informed largely by the information written on the back of the photos, so, as the article stands, any assumptions I’ve made that are factually inaccurate are currently down to me.]

This set of six photographs of industrial steam locomotives attracted attention because of the mention of Farnsfield on the back of each picture, and they were subsequently acquired from the online market place that had advertised them. There were also further hand-written clues to what had brought them to “Farnsfield, Nr. Ollerton, Notts”. Each one mentions Shanks and McEwan, one adding “of Glasgow”, another “Farnsfield – Ollerton LMS/LNE contract 1929-1931”, a third “stored following a contract at Farnsfield c. 1939” and finally “to be cut up at Farnsfield 1942”.

Shanks and McEwan Ltd was a Scottish construction company, starting off in 1880 and becoming a prominent civil engineering firm involved with railway construction. It had also developed quarrying interests before settling on environmental services and waste management, including a landfill site at Corby. It still operates today under the name of Renewi, primarily in the Benelux countries.

The photos show the company’s name written across the flank of the engines. This shows that they were owned by the contractors and not built by them. It’s not possible to make out the information on the builders’ plates, which all locomotives carried, usually as oval-shaped brass or cast-iron plates attached to the cab side. The numbers given to the engines would be those describing their position in the company’s own fleet. Numbers 1, 49 and 82 are present and another is named Liverpool, with shots of both sides of that loco included. The engines are described as 0-4-0 and 0-6-0 saddle tanks, the former being the normal way that the size of a locomotive is classified - with reference to its wheel arrangement, and the second being how the engine carries the water it needs, in these cases in a saddle-shaped tank that straddles the boiler. There is a reference to “Peck” next to a number on the other side of the Liverpool engine. I think this refers to a locomotive built by Peckett, a well-known and prolific Bristol-based industrial locomotive manufacturers, though online lists show that the builder’s number given, 564, does not coincide with the date offered for construction of 1897. The smaller locos resemble Peckett’s W4 class.

So, what brought them all to Farnsfield in the first place, only for them to languish there for some time afterwards? Between the world wars the eastern part of the Nottinghamshire coalfield was still being developed and Bilsthorpe pit was due to open in 1928. The London Midland and Scottish Railway and the London North Eastern Railway proposed a new seven-mile-long joint railway line between Ollerton and Farnsfield to take out coal southwards. Using a junction at Farnsfield and opened in 1931, this allowed them to gain access to the existing former Midland Railway route to Southwell, before taking a spur beyond the town to join what we now know as the Castle line at Fiskerton Junction on the edge of the village of Morton.

Shanks and McEwan were presumably contracted to build the line, bringing in their own locomotives to get the job done. What seems to have happened after construction was over is that the engines were no longer needed elsewhere and were allowed to rot slowly in sidings at Farnsfield - of which there were sufficient number to accommodate them - before there were cut up on site in 1942. Perhaps the war effort needed the scrap metal more urgently by then. It’s possible also that the company had already decided on its move towards environmental services and away from civil engineering by that time, so the engines were suddenly surplus to their future requirements after completion of the new link.

Queen Street, Glasgow

Well, here’s a nice station with a good vibe. What’s so good about it? It’s got an overall roof and its neatly hemmed in within Glasgow city centre. Walking round its northern boundary, where the road overbridge allows you a peak of the edge of the roof at the station throat and just before the tracks plunge into a tunnel, it reminded me of Liverpool Lime Street. It’s the south facing façade, however, that gives Queen Street its special attraction. Its all glass but set at a jaunty angle. Along with the train shed roof, that makes for a very light and airy concourse. I found it quite uplifting.

I had been here once before, taking an Edinburgh train in 1972 and just having enough time to photograph English Electric Type Four No. 261 at the head of an Aberdeen express. Last week and over half a century later, this service was in the hands of the HSTs, now enjoying their well-deserved swan song years and clinging on at the two extremities of the UK network.

What the ____ am I doing here?

[Written for Writers Live Open Mic at Southwell Library on 24/11/23]

Every now and then, I go off on a train day. Firstly, I head for a railway station in the car. I make for one where I know I can park easily and cheaply and is in the general direction of the place I want to visit. I start my day at about 9, so that when I buy my ticket, I will qualify for a cheap off-peak return. I also then avoid the rush hour on the road and I have not had to get up at stupid o’ clock. I buy my ticket at the station, having worked out beforehand my itinerary and likely timings. Most stations I start at still have ticket offices, which I’m pleased to say is likely to continue to be the case, for now, at least.

On arrival at my chosen location, I make straight for the loo - regular bodily function plus my “Sorry to rush you” medication. Secondly, I find a station sign as a backdrop to a selfie on my phone, which I then send to my mates, along with a witty comment. The subliminal message is what a good time I’m having in my retirement and how extraordinarily adventurous and fit I still am, breezily careering around the country on a whim. No one replies.

Then a go and find a platform bench. It has to be somewhere out in the open with a good view of the action on the tracks. I prefer an old seat with authentic railway heritage, common on the former Great Western Railway, but less likely anywhere else. I sit on my bench and relax. I am suddenly thoroughly at home again. I have been doing this all my life, off and on. This is my time, in my choice of place. It is my diversion from my real life - the one that occupies all the other times and spaces. This is who I am, I decide again.  

Within seconds, though, I occasionally have a sharply contrasting thought. What the fuck am I doing here? I should be out helping people - driving old people to hospital or chopping down vegetation to maintain a wildlife corridor on the trail. I could at least be doing something more constructive, like completing a useful DIY task at home, or creative, like writing a book. Instead, I am being totally self-indulgent with no benefit to humanity at all, and at some cost to the environment, thanks to my otherwise unnecessary car journey to the station.

So, what am I actually doing here? I’m writing down train numbers, looking up those numbers in a list in a book, in preparation, if I haven’t seen them before, for underlining them with my six-inch plastic ruler when I get home. I’ve been doing this for 62 years. I still get a buzz out of creating continuous runs of underlined numbers and even more so when I have seen all the locomotives in the same class to complete the set. Then I stop recording them, of course, now barely recognising their formerly so important digits.

Is this my version of the hunter gatherer gene? I’d have been crap at the hunting bit, for sure. Nevertheless, should I have given it up about 57 years ago? Maybe, but when steam ended and my friends packed in, I carried on. I must have needed it more than they did. In my twenties and thirties, when I was too embarrassed to admit to still being a train spotter, I wrote down the numbers in the margin of my dual-purpose copy of the Guardian during any rail journey I made. I obviously didn’t want anyone to think I wasn’t cool or anything.

My next move is to take some photos of trains. I like the challenges this poses. I have a modestly priced camera with a pretty decent telephoto lens, but no way have I mastered the art. Nevertheless, I get a kick out of trying for a clear image, a variety of subject matter, interesting angles, uncommon background settings and imaginative compositions. When I look through them all afterwards on the computer screen at home, I see that most of them have surprisingly morphed into some rather ordinary three-quarter front-end snaps of trains with no artistic ingredient evident at all.  

It must be lunch time. I won’t allow myself food until mid-day, unlike the early days when I’d finished the lot by half eleven. I absolutely love my one round cheese sandwich with crisps, enjoyed on my bench and surrounded - up to a point - by the sights and sounds of my youth. I can even get a decent cup of coffee to go with it these days. Now that is an improvement.

I always leave the station but never venture very far from it. I’m on the look-out for an all-encompassing view of the station frontage. This can sometimes be surprisingly difficult and is subject to the configuration of the surrounding roads and the lay-out of nearby buildings. I have come to appreciate many different aspects of our railway heritage as time has gone by, so it’s not just the trains that I’m here for. Station design varies enormously. Some I love and some I really don’t, but increasingly, I understand how things got to be how they are and I find that quite rewarding.

Back on the station, I also spend time watching people making journeys. I’m usually drawn to larger and busier stations, anyway, so usually they are railway junctions. Places where people change trains fascinate me. There are the seasoned, purposeful travellers who know the ropes and just where they are heading, so confident and assured. There are also those for whom the whole experience is clearly an unfamiliar nightmare. Am I on the right platform at the right time? Is my train the next or the one after that? Do I have to change again? Can I sit anywhere? Is it just first-class at the front? Where is the quiet coach? Is there a refreshment trolley on board or should I get a sandwich now? Luckily, these days there is abundant help available, with VDU displays updated to the second and those pervasive staccato and rather robotic station announcements, so much clearer to make out than in the past, though without the evocative regional accents.

Then there’s the parting and meeting scenarios, perhaps most dramatically played out these days at international airports and the London terminus stations. Heartfelt moments of human interaction, those being torn apart, and those ecstatic at the very moment of their timely reunion. Stations are also great mixers of social class. Anyone who thinks that’s no longer significant, I’d point towards Kate Fox’s Watching the English for a bit of an eye opener. There may be first-class seats and first-class lounges, but the barriers, concourse, platforms, buffets, as well as the corridors on trains, are universal mixing points, sometimes uncomfortably so for those who usually go for exclusivity.

By early afternoon I’ve generally had my fix. I want to make my journey home in daylight so that I can appreciate the landscape I’m passing through once more. I never read or sleep on a train. My eyes are glued to the window as the world outside unfurls. I also miss the evening rush hour on the road. People travelling home from work by car can be a tetchy and gung-ho bunch. I’m already looking forward to refashioning my notes for my next blog and to underlining those numbers, of course.

Time wasted? Not for me. I’ve kept the faith, gone back to base, revisited my past and found plenty to amuse, intrigue and even surprise me. When the die was cast all those years ago there was certainly an element of escapism in it for me. There was nothing troublesome about trains. They never caused upset or disappointment. I found solace, with or without my mates. Perhaps it is simply that old habits die hard and it just became engrained, eventually becoming something that I was pleased to be associated with and in the end even proud of. I’m glad I’ve got interests, even if others can’t get their heads round this one. It has also made me more tolerant and interested when it comes to anyone else with a less than mainstream pastime. Each to their own, life’s rich tapestry, etc.

So, where does the self-doubt come into it? Am I alone in this? I got it at work, too, before the end of my time there, and in a sporting context when I have been on the receiving end of a comprehensive drubbing and felt incapable of making a difference to the result. It is that sudden realisation that I may be wasting my time. Time is of the essence, after all. Time is ultimately what we have. Is it the Protestant work ethic thing giving me a guilt trip? Is it a legacy issue? “Mike Priestley. Trainspotter. He saw all his Britannias but fell short with his Class 47 diesels” may not cut it, but in the absence of a guiding force in any particular direction, I guess it’s just a matter of keeping on keeping on, as Alan Bennett so appropriately put it.

 

Macclesfield

The down platform was heaving with young people intent on a good Saturday night out in Manchester. It was only three in the afternoon. It seemed like they must have been issued with an alcoholic beverage of their choice when they bought their tickets. They were clearly starting as they meant to continue. Being a guard on the last train home to Macclesfield must be a fun shift.  

Macclesfield station is uninspiring. Though train services are relatively frequent on the electrified Piccadilly to Stoke route, the buildings are very much from the Modernist and Brutalist sixties era. There is no trace of the original station of 1873, built jointly by the North Staffordshire Railway and the Manchester, Sheffield and Lincolnshire Railway.

Macclesfield itself was a pleasant surprise. The imposing town hall is perched on the top of a ridge next to the parish church and overlooking a tight-knit pattern of cobbled streets. We had no trouble finding cafes of individuality, that were clearly making an effort to please. Café ambience is so important, when you are using such places as a base for catching up with friends, and the first impressions created by the staff always seems to set the tone for what follows.

Back at the station, the delayed Manchester-bound train would have emptied the platform well before we’d finished our own afternoon refreshments of tea and cake. The party goers would have no doubt been hoping for a Pendolino from Euston equipped with a buffet to whisk them to the Northern Powerhouse. The alternative local Northern Class 331 unit from Stoke would probably have been totally dry.