The tiny but deeply beautiful west London flat of gallerist Lyndsey Ingram
'I made a rule for myself when I moved here,’ says Lyndsey Ingram. ‘Absolutely everything had to be beautiful, or it must go.’ We would all do well to adhere to such a dictum, but when you live in a flat that is under 50 square metres, as Lyndsey does, it is more a question of necessity than choice. Happily, as the founder and owner of an eponymous post-war and contemporary gallery in Mayfair, she has an eye for beauty – though that did not make the task any easier. ‘I had to be brutal,’ she says.
Brutal is the last word that comes to mind as I sit on Lyndsey’s chocolate-velvet sofa. Bijou is more like it. Often, that adjective is applied much too generously to small apartments, but at this Victorian ground-floor flat in west London, it is entirely appropriate. Petite but perfectly formed, this jewellery box glints with precious treasure.
Works by artists Lyndsey represents and those she admires, hang on almost every flat surface. There are prints, paintings and sculptures, naturally, but look more closely and you will find art everywhere, elevating the prosaic into the pleasurable. Plates mounted on the kitchen wall; a serried row of Eric Ravilious mugs holding bathroom miscellanea; a bowl of glossy cherries that look good enough to eat until you realise they are made of blown glass. Even some of the fabrics and wallpapers are works of art, created by Georgie Hopton, who is represented by Lyndsey. It is an extraordinary display of an equally extraordinary array of things and yet, to Lyndsey, it is the most natural thing in the world: ‘Art helps us understand ourselves as human beings and makes our lives on this planet better.’
Her flat was not always as well suited to display. When she bought it, she explains, ‘everything was in the wrong place’ – split with stud walls into a series of cramped rooms. Lyndsey recognised the potential, but knew taking counsel would be wise. Her first phone call was to architect Simon Jones of Jones Neville who, in 2016, refashioned a diminutive, derelict mews house in Mayfair into Lyndsey’s light-filled gallery. The next call was to her friend Edward Bridges, an under-the-radar decorator and doyen of details. Together, the three of them solved the puzzle, removing partitions, sacrificing a slice of what then became the bedroom and moving the bathroom to the back of the flat. Edward remembers the project as being very much a collaboration: ‘Lyndsey had clear ideas of what needed to happen.’
‘I know how to pick out the right brown fabric for my sofa,’ Lyndsey says. ‘That’s not hard. What I don’t know how to do is ensure that the proportions of my kitchen cabinets make sense in a room with hugely tall ceilings.’ When she wanted to fill in a closed-up doorway with a mirror, Edward was the one who convinced her to mirror the entire wall, a move that has magically appeared to double the size of her hallway.
Edward credits Lyndsey as ‘the master’ of hanging art, and it is clear that consideration has been given to what goes where. ‘It’s a balancing act,’ she says, explaining that you can group pictures, but they need space to sing. You can theme, but not be too on the nose. In her kitchen, for example, there is a Miles Aldridge sketch of an egg and a Dani Trew painting of a ham. So far, so culinary – but there is also a print of Wenceslaus Hollar’s 17th-century engraving of a dead mole.
The hard bit, Lyndsey says, is collecting with longevity. ‘You can’t always buy something that you will love forever. But you can buy something of quality and, that way, even if it loses its relevance for you, you’ll be able to find another home for it.’ That said, she feels the electric Suzy Murphy that presides over the sitting room will always be important to her, as will Sarah Graham’s exquisite drawing of a magnolia, which sets the tone for her peaceful off-pink bedroom.
Lyndsey says, ‘The art I love is the art I sell.’ But she does not treat her home like her gallery; she is not constantly rehanging. But she does admit to yearning. She would love a David Hockney and has her eye on a tiny Whistler etching of a champagne coupe. It turns out that, even when you set yourself as strict a dictum as Lyndsey did here, there are just too many beautiful things in the world.
Lyndsey’s advice on collecting art
1 Buy with your eyes, not with your ears. People can get caught up in what they hear and don’t actually look at the object, which is often a disaster.
2 Don’t be afraid to mix and match. Buying across categories, materials, periods and cultures is a fun way to collect, and creates an interesting and dynamic dialogue. An object’s value isn’t necessarily dictated by its price.
3 Look, look, look – visit as many galleries and museums as possible but, ultimately, find a gallerist you can trust and grow with over time. This can be a very rewarding relationship.
4 Buy art that moves you. It’s worth stretching your budget or working out a payment plan to acquire something you fall in love with. Galleries value genuine enthusiasm and a good one will work with you to help to bring that perfect piece home












