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The record for a work of art sold at auction was broken yesterday at Christie’s in New York. When auctioneer Jussi Pykannen brought his gavel down on the bidding for Picasso’s Women of Algiers, the final amount was £102 million pounds. The painting was described by one executive as the most exiting to come on the market in ten years and ‘a big show-off picture.’ He added that in another ten years 102 million pounds would seem inexpensive.

He’s probably right. Ten years ago, when a Picasso was sold for just over £50 million, everyone said the market had peaked. And here we are. It’s not unlike the prices paid for football players. It seems futile to complain. In this world something is always worth what someone else is willing to pay for it. And, of course, it’s not just about the art. It’s about the investment. These high prices have as much to do with low interest rates as aesthetics. A fine painting can bring pleasure to its owner. An expensive one can bring them a return.

I know a brilliant artist who doesn’t quite make a living from the sale of his paintings, even though, to my eye, he should. Not so long ago it was suggested to him by the owner of a gallery that if he wanted to be taken more seriously, he should put the prices of his pictures up – by ten times! People would see more in them if they were more expensive.

Which brings me to an apocryphal story about a rich man who enjoyed collecting art. His many homes were full of Cezannes and Picassos. One day his son was killed in action after saving another man’s life. Months later the man whose life had been saved came to see the father, bringing with him a portrait he’d painted of the son. ‘It’s not great art,’ he said ‘But I thought you might like it.’

A few years later, when the rich man died, all his artworks went to auction. The auction began with the picture of the son. The connoisseurs complained that it didn’t constitute real art and when the auctioneer asked for bids nobody responded. So he asked again: ‘The son? Who will take the son?’ Eventually a frail gentleman – the deceased man’s gardener – offered $10 dollars. It was all he had. But nobody raised the bid, so it was his.

Suddenly, the auctioneer brought down his gavel and declared the auction over. There was an uproar. What about the real paintings? It was then that the auctioneer made known the rich man’s will. He’d stipulated that the person who bought the portrait of his son would inherit the entire estate. Including the Picassos. The art collector had recalibrated the value system. The man who got the son got everything.

It’s a parable that could have come from a gospel. For beyond the bang of the gavel, there is another beauty to be found. One that’s rooted in love and relationship, and always open to the lowest bidder.

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