Charles Saatchi

• Born: June 9, 1943
• Place of Birth: Baghdad, Iraq

Art collector, advertising executive

On December 8, 1998, when Christie’s London auctioned off 130 pieces of modern art from the collection of Charles Saatchi, the reaction was mixed. Part of the proceeds from the auction went to establish scholarships at four art schools in England, yet few journalists were convinced that Saatchi’s motives for selling the works had been purely altruistic. Some pointed out that any new talents emerging from the schools would feel beholden to Saatchi, who has a reputation for voraciously snapping up the work of young artists while they still command modest prices. Others noted that Saatchi had intended to keep a portion of the profits himself and stood to reap a financial windfall. In the past the collector had almost monopolized the works of certain artists, such as Sean Scully and Julian Schnabel, causing a shortage of available pieces and driving up their prices. He had then divested himself of much of the art, and their market value had later collapsed. “He’s really a commodities broker who’s been let loose on the art world,” Scully declared to the New York Times Magazine (September 26, 1999). “He claims to love art, but his is the love that the wolf has for the lamb.

The owner of one of the largest private collections of contemporary art in the world, Saatchi started his career as a copywriter for an advertising agency. With his brother Maurice, he founded Saatchi & Saatchi, which was the largest advertising firm in the world in the 1980s. Because of his long connection to the business of persuasion, many of his critics wonder whether he has used advertising techniques to generate hype about his private collection of art. Saatchi favors controversial and iconoclastic pieces, such as Damien Hirst’s preserved animal parts and Chris Ofili’s dung-strewn canvases. The shock value of Saatchi-owned works has attracted enormous media attention, leading to speculation that the hype has helped inflate the value of his collection. Others, however, maintain that Saatchi has acted no differently than any other art collector, and that his devotion to contemporary art has helped bring attention and money to talented young British artists.

The questions surrounding Saatchi will not likely dissipate, because he rarely gives interviews, does not like to be photographed, and is almost never seen at the usual art-related functions. That Saatchi tried to remain reclusive even though he championed some of the most controversial art of the 1980s and 1990s is just one of the paradoxes in his life. A nonreligious man who built a synagogue in honor of his parents, a host who throws lavish parties and often does not even make an appearance at them, Saatchi is a person around whom an aura of mystery developed. When, in 2010, he announced that he would donate his Saatchi Gallery in Chelsea, with 200 works of art, to the nation, his offer was met with as much suspicion as gratitude.

Education and Early Career

Charles Saatchi was born on June 9, 1943, in Baghdad, Iraq, to Nathan and Daisy Saatchi, both Iraqi Jews. The second of four sons, he was particularly close to his younger brother Maurice, born three years after him. In 1947, after purchasing two textile mills in northern London, Nathan Saatchi had the foresight to move the family to England. After World War II conditions became difficult for Jews in Iraq. Among other restrictions, they were excluded from government-run schools, prohibited from buying land, and denied jobs in the civil service. Shortly after the Saatchis left, about 120,000 of the 135,000 Jews in Iraq also fled the country.

Using contacts he had established in the Middle East, Nathan Saatchi turned the textile mills into thriving businesses, and the family eventually moved into an eight-bedroom home in Highgate, an expensive and exclusive section of London. Saatchi was sent to Christ College, a secondary school in the Finchley section of London, but he was an indifferent student and dropped out at the age of seventeen. Afterward, he reportedly spent most of his time riding his motorcycle around London and partying. A dark-haired, handsome youth, he was enamored with American popular culture. “I grew up on Chuck Berry and Elvis Presley,” he told Deborah Solomon for the New York Times Magazine. “I grew up in the cinema. I was completely in love with anything American.” Saatchi spent a year in the United States when he was nineteen. During a visit to the Museum of Modern Art, in New York City, he saw a Jackson Pollock painting for the first time. He has described the encounter as a “life changing” experience.

When Saatchi returned to England, he was no closer to deciding on a career. He returned to school to study design and was, by all accounts, a mediocre student. Eventually he decided to enter the advertising business. During his year in the United States, he had developed a taste for television, and he was often amused by the humor and boldness of American advertising. In 1965 he was hired as a junior copywriter in the London office of Benton & Bowles, a large advertising agency based in the United States. He met Ross Cramer, an art director at the agency, and the two discovered that they worked well together. Benton & Bowles was a relatively conservative agency, and the pair soon felt that their creativity was being stifled. They defected to Collett Dickenson Pearce, a new company that had already garnered a reputation for nurturing talent. They flourished there, creating a series of highly successful ads for Selfridge’s department store, one of which brazenly proclaimed, “The most valuable thing shoplifters get off with in Selfridge’s are the girls at the cosmetic counter.” Openly defying the British Institute of Practitioners of Advertising, which frowned on showing a competitor’s product in an ad, the pair produced a campaign that favorably compared a Ford car to a Jaguar, a Rover, and a Mercedes.

Despite their success, Saatchi and Cramer were not content to work for others, so in 1967 they decided to open CramerSaatchi, a consulting firm with cutting-edge creativity that could be hired by more established agencies on a single-project basis. They were joined by Jeremy Sinclair, a recent graduate who agreed to write copy for ₤10 a week. The trio was responsible for several ads so memorable that they are still cited, decades later. One particularly famous piece was done for the Health Education Council (HEC), which wanted to promote birth control. The ad showed a visibly pregnant man with the caption, “Would you be more careful if it was you that got pregnant?” Another ad for the HEC showed a saucer full of thick, unsightly tar and was captioned, “No wonder smokers cough.” The consultancy gradually evolved into a full-fledged advertising agency, thanks in part to the success of the HEC ads.

In 1970 Cramer announced that he was leaving the firm to pursue a long-deferred dream of directing films. In search of another partner, Saatchi thought of his brother Maurice, with whom he had remained close since childhood. Maurice had been working as an assistant at Haymarket Publishing, a publisher of trade journals, among them one that covered the advertising industry. Although he had no direct experience in advertising, Maurice had a good grasp of finance, and the two reasoned that they could benefit from each other’s skills. They called their new enterprise Saatchi & Saatchi and announced the partnership with a full-page ad in the London Sunday Times, trumpeting the agency’s creativity, efficiency, and economy. Saatchi has credited the ad, which cost almost one quarter of their start-up capital, with bringing the brothers national attention.

The partnership was allegedly tumultuous. One oft-cited, possibly apocryphal story involves Charles beating Maurice to the ground with an office chair during a dispute. But the brother’s collaboration was unquestionably a success. Maurice, charming and gregarious, was the ideal front man. Charles, increasingly more reclusive as time passed, oversaw the creative aspects of the agency and avoided clients. (In one instance when Maurice brought a client into the agency, Charles posed as a janitor to avoid having to be introduced.) One of their highest-profile accounts came in 1978, when the agency was asked to create an advertising campaign for Margaret Thatcher, then the Conservative Party’s candidate for prime minister in the upcoming election against the Labour Party. This marked the first time that an advertising agency had been hired by a political candidate in England. The brothers produced a now-legendary poster that showed an endless unemployment line under the slogan, “Labour Isn’t Working.” Although the poster was placed in only about twenty sites around the country, Thatcher partially credited it with her electoral victory on May 3, 1979. The brothers were even invited to the victory party at 10 Downing Street, the British prime minister’s official residence.

Known as “the brothers” in advertising circles, the pair rapidly expanded their company, buying up so many smaller advertising agencies that the press began calling them Snatchi & Snatchi. The brothers also bought consulting agencies, hoping one day to form a company that could offer, in addition to advertising expertise, services in public relations, research, and finance. Commentators have theorized that the brothers’ status as immigrants in the class-conscious atmosphere of Britain was responsible for their incredible drive. Whatever the reason, by 1986 Saatchi & Saatchi was the biggest ad agency in the world.

Having reached the top, however, the Saatchis found that the agency’s gigantic size had begun to create headaches. Upset that Saatchi & Saatchi was handling the accounts of some their competitors, some clients defected to other agencies. RJR Nabisco, a large manufacturer of tobacco and food products, stopped consulting the brothers when Saatchi & Saatchi produced an antismoking campaign for an airline. Moreover, some stock analysts questioned the amount that the brothers had paid to buy out other agencies and became even more skeptical when they attempted to purchase Midland Bank. Combined with the lackluster performance of the brothers’ consulting businesses, these doubts caused the share price of the company to tumble. By the time the 1990 recession hit and dried up the money companies were willing to spend on ads, Saatchi & Saatchi reported losses of almost $100 million and verged on bankruptcy.

The brothers stepped down as co-chief executives and were replaced by Robert Louis-Dreyfus. Maurice was eventually ousted as chairman, in 1994, and the siblings sold their share in Saatchi & Saatchi, which was later renamed Cordiant. In 1995 they moved a few blocks away to start, with Sinclair, the ad firm M & C Saatchi. With the combined experience of the brothers and Sinclair, the enterprise has provided stiff competition for their old firm. It managed to steal, for instance, one of Cordiant’s most lucrative accounts, British Airways. Although Charles maintained an office at M & C Saatchi, most observers feel that he stayed involved in advertising for his brother’s sake. He worked with a few select accounts that caught his interest, but for the most part, his energy was focused on his art collection. Charles Saatchi sold his remaining stake in M&C Saatchi in October 2006, having ended his active involvement with the agency two years earlier.

Later Career

Saatchi’s interest in art was sparked by his first wife, Doris Lockhart Dibley, whom he had met while working at Benton & Bowles. Then a senior employee of the firm, Dibley was a tall, sophisticated blond who was described by one journalist as looking like a heroine in an Alfred Hitchcock thriller. She was married to a race-car driver, and after their divorce, she agreed to move in with Saatchi. They lived together for six years before marrying, in 1973. A Sorbonne graduate, Doris encouraged Saatchi to collect contemporary art. His first acquisition, in 1969, was a canvas by Sol LeWitt, of the Minimalist school. The couple flew regularly to New York to frequent galleries and make purchases. At one point estimated to be worth more than $250 million, their collection included 21 paintings by LeWitt, 17 by Andy Warhol, 27 by Julian Schnabel, and the work of scores of others. Saatchi was given a ₤100 million credit line from Citibank with which to buy art, and he tended to buy it in bulk, several pieces at a time. In 1985 the couple’s holdings had become so extensive that they opened the Saatchi Gallery in St. John’s Wood, a residential neighborhood in London.

In 1987 Saatchi and his wife divorced. Saatchi began to sell off much of the artwork they had purchased together. “I loved Minimalism very passionately,” he told Deborah Solomon, “but when you realize there are other things in life besides Carl Andre and Robert Ryman, it’s difficult to look at them and have the same love affair.” Journalists sympathetic to him reported that Saatchi was merely trying to shed some of his past, as any man painfully ending a marriage might. Others leveled what would become a familiar charge over the years: that Saatchi was clearly trying to make a profit and was more an avaricious dealer than a real collector.

Gary Hume, a young artist known for unusual paintings of wooden doors, didn’t dispute that Saatchi had made a profit when selling his work, but still came to his defense. “I think Charles Saatchi is really great,” he told Kevin Goldman, the author of Conflicting Accounts: The Creation and Crash of the Saatchi & Saatchi Advertising Empire (1997). “Without him, the young contemporary art world here wouldn’t happen. And, although he takes your work and makes money out of it, although he is the biggest dealer in Britain, Saatchi is the saving grace. His purchases early on enabled me to live for six months. He bulk-buys when he buys. It’s good for the people because they make more money.”

As he divested himself of the art that he and Doris had jointly chosen, Charles replaced the pieces with the works of a group of artists in their early 20s who had attended Goldsmiths, a progressive London college that focused on the humanities and arts. In 1990 he acquired his first piece by Damien Hirst—a work called A Thousand Years, which features a glass case containing a decomposing cow head, complete with flies and maggots. “I thought of it as punked-over Minimalism,” he explained to Solomon. Saatchi enthusiastically began collecting and displaying pieces by Hirst and his fellow Goldsmiths graduates. He attended one- or two shows a day, often before they opened to the public, and frequented artist-run exhibits in unfashionable areas as well as slick, established galleries. Sometimes he would buy an entire show, as he did in 1993 when he stumbled upon an exhibit of five paintings by then-unknown Simon Callery.

The popularity of the artists he was supporting spread, and Saatchi began lending his pieces to other institutions to exhibit. The response of the press to this practice was mixed. Saatchi’s critics saw the loans as blatant self-promotion and a chance to boost the profiles of his chosen artists. The debate came to a head in 1997, when the staid Royal Academy of the Arts, which had been established in 1768, mounted a show called Sensation: Young British Artists from the Saatchi Collection. It featured several works by Hirst, including Physical Impossibility of Death in the Mind of Someone Living, a piece consisting of a dead shark suspended in formaldehyde. Mark Quinn’s Self, a bust of the artist made out of eight pints of his own frozen blood, was shown in a special refrigerated case. Ron Mueck’s contribution was a 3-foot-long sculpture of his dead father, and the Chapman brothers were represented by a tableau of deformed, childlike mannequins seemingly engaged in erotic activity. The work that caused perhaps the biggest furor was Marcus Harvey’s portrait of Myra Hindley, a convicted murderer of children. Composed of children’s hand prints, the portrait shocked even the imprisoned Hindley. One newspaper called the museum the “Royal Academy of Porn,” and some critics charged the museum administrators with promoting sensationalism for the sake of revenue. Although the academy denied a financial motive for mounting the show and declared that its only intention was to display a wide range of art, the exhibit was a resounding financial success, decreasing the museum’s operating deficit by almost $2 million.

A similar furor erupted when the show traveled to the Brooklyn Museum of Art, in New York City, in the fall of 1999. Even before he saw any of the artwork, Rudolph Giuliani, the New York City mayor, criticized the exhibit and threatened to pull city funding from the museum. The painting that most raised the mayor’s ire was a depiction of the Virgin Mary by black artist Chris Ofili. Ofili is known for using elephant dung, which in Africa represents power and fertility, to embellish his canvases. The mayor found the juxtaposition of a beloved religious figure with animal excrement and cutouts of pornographic images to be highly offensive, and many Catholic groups agreed with him. The museum attempted to appease Giuliani by promising to remove Ofili’s painting and accepting a reduction in the city’s subsidy for the duration of the show. But museum officials became upset when details of the negotiations were leaked to the media prematurely. They decided to mount the exhibit as planned and initiated a lawsuit in federal court against the mayor, accusing him of violating the First Amendment. The City of New York filed a lawsuit of its own, in an attempt to evict the museum from its city-owned building. Despite all the legal wrangling, the show opened on October 2, and on opening day alone more than 9,000 tickets were sold, a record number for the museum.

The exhibit sparked additional debate on both continents about the ethics of a museum exhibiting a one-owner collection. It was feared that the prestige of a museum’s name could later inflate the monetary value of the artworks and thus provide an ulterior motive for the collector to loan his pieces. Although Saatchi asserted that he had no immediate plans to sell any of the featured works, more doubts were raised when it was revealed that the show was sponsored, in part, by Christie’s auction house. The Royal Academy and the Brooklyn Museum have both taken the position that individual collectors throughout history have often acted as arbiters of popular taste, and that it is therefore valid to exhibit a private collection.

The exhibit traveled next to the National Gallery of Australia in Canberra, and the controversy in the United States abated. Meanwhile, in England, Saatchi continued to be subjected to skeptical treatment from some members of the press. Of a 100-painting gift he made to the Arts Council of England, Art Monthly (March 1999) wrote, “They say you shouldn’t look a gift horse in the mouth, but when the gift horse comes from Charles Saatchi, it is worth taking a long, hard look at those teeth.” Saatchi’s seemingly generous gesture was said to be an attempt to save on storage charges by having the Arts Council warehouse 100 of his lesser pieces. Attention next turned to an exhibit at Saatchi’s gallery entitled New Neurotic Realism. The 1999 exhibit featured the works of a group of British artists even younger than the YBAs, some of whom had even studied under the original YBAs at Goldsmiths. Far from causing the kind of stir that Sensations did, this show was seen by some journalists as simply a weak attempt to make Saatchi’s new stable of artists seem trendy and relevant.

In April 2003 the Saatchi Gallery moved to a larger space, in County Hall (the former Greater London Council building) on the South Bank in London near Westminster Bridge. Saatchi was pleased with gallery attendance, but the two Triumph of Painting shows he mounted there suffered what Stuart Jeffries of the Guardian (September 6, 2006) called a “critical mauling,” and Saatchi continually clashed with the landlord, the Shirayama Shokusan company of Japan, and the building’s manager, Cadogan Leisure Investments. In October 2005 landlord and manager succeeded in getting the gallery evicted on grounds of having violated its lease, an. By this time, however, Saatchi had already announced that he would move to a new gallery in Chelsea.

Nealy a year and a half earlier, in May 2004, a catastrophic fire in a London warehouse rented by the art packing and handling company Momart had destroyed a number of the signature pieces in Saatchi’s so-called BritArt collection, including Everyone I Have Ever Slept With 1963–1995 by Tracey Emin and the Chapman brothers’s Hell. According to James Meek of the Guardian, who wrote a two-part investigative story on the fire (Sept. 22, 2004), the “media focused almost exclusively on the loss of works in the collection of the former advertising mogul Charles Saatchi, and on three artists in particular: Tracey Emin, Damien Hirst and the Chapman brothers, Dinos and Jake. This was partly because Saatchi released the news of the damage to his collection early … and partly because Emin, Hirst and the Chapmans were lead characters in Britain’s great popular narrative of celebrity, money, talent and scandal.” Meeks wrote of the “hostility and skepticism” toward contemporary art exhibited in reactions to the fire—“always focusing on Emin, Hirst and the Chapmans and on how easy modern art was to make” while neglecting the destruction of significant amounts of work by a number of important but lesser known artists, such as Gillian Ayres (18 paintings lost), Patrick Heron (50 paintings lost), and Adrian Heath (40 paintings lost).

In October 2008 Saatchi opened his new Saatchi Gallery on King’s Road in Chelsea, in the former military complex known as the Duke of York’s Headquarters near Sloane Square. The gallery was to have opened with USA Today, showing Saatchi’s recent purchases of American art, but because of construction delays at the new gallery spcae, USA Today opened instead at the Royal Academy. “America has been in the doldrums for 15 years,” Saatchi remarked at the time, “and for me is now as exciting as Britain was in the early ’90s.” The Chelsea gallery opened instead with The Revolution Continues: New Art from China, which attracted more than four thousand visitors daily. The new gallery was praised by critics: “With its airy galleries, glass stairwells and walkways, its long views through rooms of all sizes, it’s one of the most beautiful art spaces in London,” wrote Laura Cumming in the Observer (11 October 2008). Of the opening show itself, Cumming commented, “What Saatchi is offering is a rapid glimpse of the kind of international art that circulates around the world’s biennales and auction houses, plus some finds of his own, before he sends it back out for sale again.”

To near-universal astonishment, Saatchi announced in July 2010 that he planned to donate the 70,000-square-foot gallery and more than 200 works of art to the British public in 2012. The art works offered, the value of which was estimated space at more than $37.5 million, included the Richard Wilson “Oil Room” installation, 20:50 (the only permanent installation at the Saatchi Gallery); Emin’s My Bed; and works by the Chapmans and Grayson Perry. The gallery was to become the Museum of Contemporary Art, London. The gallery entered into discussions with various government departments that might own the works on behalf of the public. “The gift would,” wrote Carol Vogel in the New York Times (August 20, 2012), “also include artworks that could be sold to acquire other art so that the museum could remain a showcase for the latest works. … The gallery said in a statement that [Saatchi] felt it was ‘vital for the museum to always be able to display a living and evolving collection of work, rather than an archive of art history.’”

By August 2012, however, Saatchi’s offer had had no takers. Discussions with Arts Council England (to which Saatchi had previously made gifts) evidently came to nothing, and the Tate did not step forward. As Carol Vogel had reported, there were complications in that the gallery building “does not belong to Mr. Saatchi. He rents it from Cadogan Estates, a London developer. (Cadogan Estates said in a statement that it hoped the government would keep the gallery there.)” Jonathan Jones wrote at the Guardian’s Art blog (August 20, 2012), “Two years on, Saatchi’s gift is without a home. The collector now plans to establish a foundation for the art works, and to appoint a board of trustees to manage it.” Jones went on to comment, “Perhaps there have been arguments behind the scenes about curatorial influence (Saatchi loves to curate: does he want a say in how galleries show his collection?) Perhaps there have been quibbles about obligations to show the work continuously, rather than keeping it in storage. This is speculation. … But [the] Tate prides itself on a very different aesthetic take on contemporary art from that identified with Saatchi. His art collecting in the 1980s and 1990s, a period when he was central to new British art, was strong on shocks and thrills, low on the sort of cultural theory that loves such forms as live art. By contrast, Tate has tended to champion what it sees as the “real” international avant garde, artists who are big on theory, and weaker when it comes to image-making power.” Jones concluded, “Tate did not light the fire of modern British art; Saatchi did. … The Tate made no such bold commitment, and now appears to want to write his achievement out of history.” In October 2013, Saatchi auctioned off 50 large sculptures and installations, including Emin’s To Meet My Past (2002) and the Chapmans’ Tragic Anatomies (1996; shown in the Sensations exhibit), in order to raise funds to support free public access to the Saatchi Gallery and its education programs.

In 2006 Saatchi launched Your Gallery (later Saatchi Online), a digital gallery for new art. As Carol Vogel explained, “Besides showing off his collection, it allows artists who register to post their work and sell it without having to pay a fee to a gallery or dealer.” She noted that it “also has a social-networking component, allowing art students to talk to one another and post their work.” School of Saatchi, a BBC program aired in November–December 2009, showcased the work of aspiring artists. In 2014, Saatchi Online was rebranded as SaatchiArt.com when it was sold to Demand Media, a US social media and content company for $17 million.

A July 3, 2010, editorial in the Observer addressed Saatchi’s achievement: “If Saatchi’s collection represents anything, it is the restless immediacy and attention-deficit search for sensation that has characterised his times. This one-man Medici understands as well as anyone the ways in which visual art has been forced to fight for space in mixed media lives.”

Chronically self-deprecating—before meeting Deborah Solomon of theNew York Times in London, he told her, ‘’You can’t possibly be serious about this interview. It’s just ridiculous that you would cross the Atlantic to meet a man who speaks in monosyllables and has nothing of interest to say’’—Saatchi seldom gives interviews and rarely answers the criticisms leveled against him. Yet regarding charges that he sought to manipulate the art market, he defended himself to Solomon: “If I were interested in art as an investment, I would just show Picasso and Matisse. But that’s not what I do. I buy new art, and 90 percent of the art I buy will probably be worthless in 10 years time to anyone except me. I don’t know how much of the art I like is significant; I hope some of it is. Who knows what will last?” In his interview with Saatchi for the Guardian, Stuart Jeffries—calling Saatchi the “most voracious of contemporary art collectors”—quoted him as saying, ‘Before, I was always mouthing off about how there aren’t enough collectors. Now there are just too many. They’re all very young and very rich, and they all like to collect art the way they buy their funds.’” Saatchi was increasingly repelled by the glitzy world of “uber art dealers” and their super-rich, status-obsessed clients; he carefully distinguished the “mega-art blowouts” from the majority of gallery shows. Writing in the Guardian (December 2, 2011), Saatchi commented, “Not so long ago, I believed that anything that helped broaden interest in current art was to be welcomed; that only an elitist snob would want art to be confined to a worthy group of aficionados. But even a self-serving narcissistic showoff like me finds this new art world too toe-curling for comfort. … I am regularly asked if I would buy art if there was no money in it for me. There is no money in it for me. Any profit I make selling art goes back into buying more art. Nice for me, because I can go on finding lots of new work to show off. Nice for those in the art world who view this approach as testimony to my venality, shallowness, malevolence. Everybody wins.”

In 1990 Charles Saatchi married Kay Hartenstein, a former ad representative, and their daughter Phoebe was born in 1995. The couple divorced in 2001, however, and two years later Saatchi married Food Network star and cookbook author Nigella Lawson. They were divorced in 2013. Saatchi, who simply claimed that they had become estranged, had been photographed seven weeks earlier “clutching the TV cook by the throat” during an argument on the terrace of a London restaurant, as reported by Sam Jones (“and agency”) in the London Guardian (July 31, 2013). Jones continued, “Saatchi later told the Mail on Sunday the pictures gave a ‘wholly different and incorrect implication. … I am disappointed that [Lawson] was advised to make no public comment to explain that I abhor violence of any kind against women, and have never abused her physically in any way.’”

Following his divorce from Lawson, Saatchi dated beauty entrepreneur Trinny Woodall for a decade. They split in 2023.

Saatchi began writing a column on advertising topics in 2015 that was published in the London Evening Standard newspaper. In 2017, the London Telegraph announced that Saatchi would write a weekly column entitled "Charles Saatchi's Great Masterpieces" on masterpiece art and artists, such as Pablo Picasso. In other writing ventures, Saatchi has authored books of visual images including Holy Cow! published in 2017, and his book of strange facts and arresting images: We Are Bananas (2017).

Bibliography

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Dunne, Carey. “Saatchi Gallery Congratulates Itself on First All-Women Art Show.” 25 Jan. 2016, Hyperallergic, hyperallergic.com/267576/saatchi-gallery-congratulates-itself-on-first-all-women-art-show/. Accessed 24 June 2024.

Goldman, Kevin, Conflicting Accounts: The Creation and Crash of the Saatchi & Saatchi Advertising Empire (Simon & Schuster, 1997)

Hatton, Rita, and John A. Walker, Supercollector: A Critique of Charles Saatchi, 4th ed. (Institute of Artology, 2010)

Kent, Sarah Richard Cork, and Dick Price, Young British Art: The Saatchi Decade (Booth-Clibborn Editions, dist. in North America by Harry N. Abrams, 1999)

McLoughlin, Lisa. “Trinny Woodall: I Felt ‘On My Own’ During Charles Saatchi Relationship.” 27 Sept. 2023, The Standard, www.standard.co.uk/showbiz/trinny-woodall-details-charles-saatchi-split-b1105469.html. Accessed 24 June 2024.

100: The Work that Changed British Art, text by Patricia Ellis (Jonathan Cape in association with the Saatchi Gallery, 2003)