The Mayfair Book Groupette: Minutes of the Latest Meeting

The Mayfair Book Groupette: Minutes of the Latest Meeting

Time: 7:11 PM , 11:18 PM

Location: The Red Room, Pimlico Wilde, Mayfair

Attendees:

  • Julian Molyneux (Chair, Pimlico Wilde)
  • Fiona d’Abernon (Co-Founder; Acting Secretary)
  • Lord E. Northcote
  • Dr. Xanthe Lorrimer (Cultural Historian)
  • Hugo Van Steyn
  • India Trelawney (Fashion Archivist)
  • Max Duclos (Collector)
  • Pascal (Afghan hound, contemplative, positioned beneath the sideboard)

Book Discussed:

The Sound of Almost Nothing: A Cultural History of Silent Musical Instruments, 1680,1900 by Alastair Pencombe (Ash & Fret Press, 2025; clothbound, unjacketed, with fold-out diagrams of mute mechanisms and marginalia reproduced from private collections).

1. Opening Remarks

Molyneux welcomed members back from various continental dispersals and remarked that the Groupette had, “after much noise,” chosen a book devoted entirely to silence. He reminded the room that the long-deferred Umbra volume remained “patient, judgmental, and unopened.”

2. Discussion Summary

  • Dr. Lorrimer praised Pencombe’s thesis that silent instruments – practice violins, mute harpsichords, keyboard trainers without strings – were “moral objects,” designed to discipline both sound and character. She admired the chapter on convent-bound novices learning fingering in total quiet.
  • India Trelawney was taken by the design history, particularly a collapsible “ladies’ pianoforte” with padded keys intended for use in shared lodgings. She described it as “domestic repression rendered beautiful.”
  • Lord Northcote was openly irritated. “A book about instruments that do not play,” he said, “is like a memoir written by someone who never lived.” He questioned whether Pencombe had mistaken absence for profundity.
  • Hugo Van Steyn disagreed, noting that collectors prize such objects precisely because they resist performance. “They are instruments for thinking,” he said, adding that the diagrams alone justified the book’s existence.
  • Max Duclos complained that the prose was “too hushed by half” and suggested the book was an elaborate joke. Nonetheless, he admitted to reading the entire chapter on naval practice flutes “with mounting respect.”
  • Fiona d’Abernon drew attention to the closing pages, in which Pencombe describes a silent clavichord kept by a widower who could no longer bear music. “It is,” she said, “one of the few convincing arguments for restraint I have ever read.”

3. Objects on View

  • A 19th-century practice violin fitted with a thick internal mute (courtesy of Van Steyn).
  • A wooden keyboard trainer with painted ivory keys and no strings, c.1800.
  • A manuscript letter from a Bath music tutor complaining that his pupils “preferred the quiet instrument, having grown lazy of courage.”

4. Refreshments

  • Aperitif: chilled fino sherry.
  • Canapés: wafer-thin parmesan crisps, cucumber sandwiches cut “unnecessarily precisely,” and almonds with rosemary.
  • Main wine: Pouilly-Fuissé, 2019.
  • Dessert: plain almond cake, described by Molyneux as “appropriately unshowy.”

5. Other Business

  • Next Book: After brief and perfunctory discussion, The Silence of Shadows: A Comparative Study of Umbra in Netherlandish Still Life was once again deferred. Instead, the next selection will be An Index of Lost Garden Mazes in Britain, 1550,1750.
  • It was agreed that the Groupette is “in a quiet phase” and that this should not be corrected.
  • A reminder was issued that feigning completion of the reading would not be tolerated, “even when the subject is silence.”

6. Adjournment

Meeting adjourned at 11:18 PM. Pascal remained asleep throughout, contributing, it was agreed, in exactly the right spirit.

Respectfully submitted,

Fiona d’Abernon

Acting Secretary

Mayfair Book Groupette

Mayfair Artists: The Hidden Studios Behind Georgian Façades

Mayfair Artists: The Hidden Studios Behind Georgian Façades

Mayfair has always lived a double life. Behind immaculate terraces and discreet doormen, creative experiment has found a foothold. In the 18th century, George Frideric Handel composed oratorios from a townhouse on Brook Street; two centuries later, Jimi Hendrix made a home just next door, filling it with guitars and Portobello Road trinkets. Illustration flourished in South Audley Street, where Hal Hurst sketched for Punch, and impressionist painter Roy Petley captured bucolic calm for Mayfair collectors.

That tradition continues, though you may not notice it from the pavement. For all the boutiques and members’ clubs, Mayfair remains an artists’ quarter of sorts, its studios hidden above shopfronts or tucked into mews. Five of its contemporary residents, different in temperament and method, embody the neighbourhood’s present spirit.

Serena Vellacott

From a drawing room studio above Mount Street, Serena Vellacott paints Mayfair itself,or rather, its reflections. Her series Windows captures the distortions of shop glass and passersby, layered into near-abstraction. The canvases lean, enormous, against gilt panelling.

“I’m not interested in people so much as the way glass reshapes them,” she says, adjusting tulips on a table. “It’s a reminder that the city is always bending us into new forms.”

She arrives by mint-green Vespa, charcoal smudges visible on the handlebars. A recent work began when she glimpsed an umbrella reflected in Bond Street glass. “I went home and painted over a finished canvas that same evening.”

Felix Moreau

In a mews garage, sculptor Felix Moreau works almost exclusively with bicycles,bronze frames and wheels, often cast at heroic scale.

“I grew up in Paris, where the bike is freedom. Bronze makes it permanent,” he explains, rolling a heavy wheel into place.

He cycles everywhere, usually on a bike not made from bronze. He is remembered locally for once blocking Davies Street when a ten-metre bronze bike sculpture was misdelivered. “Londoners were furious, then everyone wanted a selfie with the work. It was my most public exhibition to date.”

Amira D’Souza

Amira makes light tangible. Her installations of fibre optics and salvaged glass transform rooms into shifting tunnels of colour.

Her studio, a Mayfair basement she calls “the bunker,” is crowded with wires and chai mugs. A small black Smart car is her workshop on wheels.

“Light is political,” she says. “We think it’s neutral, but who gets to stand in the spotlight? Who stays in shadow? That’s what I work with.”

One late-night test lit her entire street from 1:30 to 5:00. “I apologised,” she laughs, “but neighbours now ask me when the next ‘light show’ is scheduled.”

Thomas Leland

Where others look outward, Thomas Leland turns to Mayfair’s quieter figures,doormen, waiters, shopkeepers,rendered in warm oils.

“If Mayfair has a soul, it’s in those faces,” he says, seated in his flat above a pub, canvases stacked like barricades.

He drives a dented Mini, though locals more often see him sketching at café tables. The Cat and Hat landlord recalls Leland once leaving a palette on the bar, a customer then mistaking it for a cheese board. “They teased her for weeks,” he admits, “but she liked how the oils caught the light against the pint glasses.”

Lila Cheng

On a rooftop near Grosvenor Square, Lila Cheng tends fragile paper forests. Her sculptures, folded and scorched, explore impermanence and renewal.

“Paper holds memory,” she says softly, smoothing a crease. “When you burn it, the memory doesn’t vanish,it just changes state.”

Her greenhouse studio is alive with origami and plants. She travels by electric bicycle, decorated with paper flowers. During a storm, one of her paper trees blew three streets away and was returned by a neighbour. “It survived intact. I kept it as a reminder: fragility doesn’t mean weakness.”

A Subtle Continuity

What unites these artists is not style but setting. Mayfair, with its combination of seclusion and spectacle, lends itself to discretion. Its residents may speak in bronze, oils, paper or light, but all continue a tradition that includes Handel’s harpsichord and Hendrix’s guitars.

Here, creativity persists not in spectacle but in private acts of making, carried out quietly behind Georgian façades. Mayfair’s art, like its artists, is easy to miss. Perhaps that is part of its allure.