James Butterwick Gallery

16/10/2026

02/10/2026

Preparing to TEFAF..

20/09/2026

Another exercise in excessive narcissism.

This story has absolutely nothing to do with art, and it’s probably a huge piece of what is now commonly known as virtue signalling.

In 2016, with nothing better to do, I decided to take up a two-week course in humanitarian work in Kyiv. Yes, I actually did something that didn’t concern me.

Being a narcissist, I also have a conscience, and that conscience tells me that I’m probably far too full of myself and therefore need to be brought down to earth every now and again.

So I ended up teaching English to about ten or twelve kids. They were absolutely delightful, but one of them was a particularly nice boy called Pavel — Pasha.

He was cripplingly shy, one of three children living in one room with his mother and two siblings. Pretty depressing stuff. But he was a particularly nice boy, and we sort of hit it off.

By the end of the two weeks, I had all of them talking rather like me, as a matter of fact. They sounded like a bunch of pompous t***s.

But Pasha managed to stand up in front of 30 people and recite Tennyson to the assembled company.

I was hugely proud of him.

And then I didn’t hear from him again.

Until 24 February 2022, when his mother contacted me after the invasion and asked whether I could somehow help her. I have to confess, I was utterly, utterly useless.

Then, in 2024, I was lecturing in Stirling in Scotland.

Before the lecture, a very tall, extremely confident young man came up to me and said:

“Hello, James.”

I said, “Hello.”

He said, “I’m Pasha.”

“You’re not.”

“I am. You taught me in Kyiv all those years ago.”

Now, I may be over-emotional, but to say that I broke down in floods of tears would be one of the understatements of the year.

Talk about a blinking coincidence.

Eight years later, there he was again — studying in Stirling, going great guns, likely to go to Edinburgh University.

And he had changed dramatically: from this very shy, rather unprepossessing kid into this tall, absolutely confident, charming young man.

What a coincidence

16/09/2026

Hi guys. Welcome to my channel.

I’m going to talk to you about lecturing. That’s L-E-C-T-U-R-E, as opposed to L-E-C-H-E-R, which is something completely different.

In the background of this exciting speech, you’re going to see some of the places where I’ve lectured over the years. Because yes, my little cuddlies, I am a registered Art Society lecturer.

Now you might ask yourself what on earth the Art Society, a distinguished organisation going back almost to the times of William the Conqueror, would have to do with a loser like me.

Well, of course, it’s the theme of my lectures, which is all to do with - yes, you’ve guessed it - faking and Oleksandr Bohomazov.

I have lectured the world over: New Zealand, the United States, Europe, Scotland, Wales, Ireland, Darlington and, of course, the Home Counties.

What distinguishes my regular audience is, let’s be honest, its age. I reckon the average age of those who have to sit through 50 minutes of me whining about fakes is roughly 432. That’s a slight exaggeration, but I think the number eight might feature fairly close to the average age.

But by and large, oh my God, these audiences are completely wonderful. They laugh at all my jokes, which is more than my three followers on Instagram do. They are immensely polite and utterly charming.

At my last lecture at the Ballinger Art Society in scenic Great Missenden, I was asked one of the cleverest questions I’ve ever been asked. It came when I listed all the “experts” - ah, I use the word advisedly. It’s a word laced with irony.

There have been numerous experts who are utterly, utterly compromised. I could name them, but I’m frightened of a visit from the Thought Police.

Oh, and before I am accused of being trite and frivolous, I have lectured at the Royal Academy, the Tretyakov Gallery and, God help us, Sotheby’s Institite. Pay is crap, but the conditions are good.

So enjoy the slideshow, guys.

All the best,

James

15/09/2026

Being an expert, part III..

08/09/2026

My dear friend
 
I hurry to congratulate you, in the company of all the joy of the angels, on the birth of a new being in the Universe!
 
Now you have a granddaughter, and your granddaughter has you, a mother, a father, and a whole group of relatives who bless her birth and we, too, are also happy to receive this news.
 
Congratulations on the new status that you have in which, I think, you are already finding your footing. My friend, I can imagine the thoroughness of your thoughts in building frameworks: ‘what needs to be done for the newborn granddaughter.’ However, life is not brief, and there are many stages of human development in it. How much patience it takes to wait for the favourite period of your granddaughter growing up, my friend! And also: how hard it is to take into account the views of others in your family, who may have kaleidoscopically different priorities.
 
I want to wish you, my dear, to skilfully find mutual understanding, remembering all the wisdom passed down to you through centuries of the your family. I wish enormous love and luck to the new generation’s life that is at its beginning, a life that will only bring you joy and give a new impulse to your will to live! I also wish that your granddaughter, in her future memory, will find nothing destructive from the war in which we fight to her own World. 
 
I embrace you! Thank you for your golden positivity and silver lined desire to preserve your traditions and beliefs. 
 
Sincerely, your friend and fighter for freedom
 
Dima Didorenko

03/09/2026

The Mecca of Futurism

The gentleman in the green T-shirt and brown sort of bomber jacket is my very good buddy Misha Sayany, who, in his eternal wisdom, works at the Kharkiv Regional Museum.
Some years ago, before Vladimir Putin thought it would be a marvellous idea to expand his already overreaching and revolting ego, Misha decided to pay homage to a house outside Kharkiv called Krasnaya Polyana “the beautiful clearing”.
Before the Revolution, it was home to the Sinyakov family - five daughters and three sons, a completely bonkers family who, after losing their parents in childhood, essentially brought one another up.
Lilya Brik, Mayakovsky’s lover, once said that this was the house in which Futurism was born.
And it is an extraordinary place.
Pasternak went there. Mayakovsky went there. Burliuk went there. Kamensky went there. And, most famously of all, Khlebnikov.
They spent their summers there in this extraordinary bohemian, sexually frivolous world, about an hour outside Kharkiv.
The photographs you see are of Krasnaya Polyana as it is today. I’ve been there twice, including in 2022, and, as you can see, it is now a complete ruin.
Misha is a remarkable man. He has also written a huge book on the Holodomor, which we are now in the process of translating and, hopefully, finding a publisher for.
He has considered the restoration of Krasnaya Polyana almost his sworn duty and has managed to secure a government grant to begin restoring the house.
With Misha’s extraordinary energy and integrity, I do hope that this extraordinary piece of cultural history will one day be brought back to life.