Burgundy expert Jasper Morris MW has had his finger on the region’s wine pulse for several decades. Especially for FONDATA, he profiles eight domaines to watch, producers that are bringing vital energy and fresh winemaking talent to the celebrated wine region 

Jasper Morris MW on eight of Burgundy’s most exciting domaines – including Eleni & Edouard Vocoret, Chantereves, Alvina Pernot and more 

The new Burgundians – Jasper Morris MW 

The new Burgundians

The 2019 vintage in Montalcino has been hotly anticipated – following on from two trickier years, 2017 and 2018 (although we found the latter to offer some very elegant wines), it’s a year that seemed set to receive critical acclaim to match the lauded 2016.  A wet winter replenished water reserves, with a damp spring and warm, dry summer. There were no serious extremes in the conditions, with rain showers arriving in September allowing for a harvest of juicy berries, with little disease pressure, from the middle of the month, finishing in early October. It delivered both quality and quantity, and from what we’ve tasted the wines are extremely impressive – combining power and elegance, offering approachable yet clearly age-worthy styles with effortless balance.  Vinous – Antonio Galloni  For Antonio Galloni, one of the defining features of the 2019 vintage is its consistency: “The entire region excelled, from southwest to east and northeast to west. Frankly stated, finding a 2019 that doesn’t show remarkable balance, vivid fruit and freshness is a difficult task,” he writes.   The stress-free growing season produced wines of “utter harmony”, “a blending of power and elegance in a way seldom seen”. He explains that many producers describe the wines as “crunchy”, something he feels is apt, and compares the wines to the 2016s, but with more energy and the aforementioned crunchy tannins. “This is a vintage of radiance and appeal,” he says of 2019, a vintage with wines that are aromatically expressive, offer sense of place and typicity – often earning descriptors such as “classic, racy, cool-toned, crunchy and sleek”, as well as being built for the cellar (maturing over the next 10-15 years or more). It is, he writes, “the vintage we’ve all been waiting for”.  He emphasises that it isn’t just the 2019s that are so enticing, but that the “high-energy and fruit-forward” 2021 Rossos that make for “an embarrassment of riches” with the current releases. The 2021 Rossos offer “charming, wildly aromatic, drink-me-now personalities” – and are, he says “an excellent choice for collectors”, he suggests, providing “open drinking windows and gobs of pleasure” while the 2019s mature in the cellar.  Antonio Galloni’s top 2019s: Canalicchio di Sopra Vigna La Casaccia, Il Marroneto Madonna delle Grazie, Le Potazzine, Pian dell’Orino Bassolino di Sopra, Valdicava Vigna Montosoli, Mastrojanni Vigna Schiena d’Asino, Canalicchio di Sopra Vigna Montosoli, Baricci, Le Ragnaie Casanovina Montosoli, Argiano Vigna del Suolo, Altesino Vigna Montosoli  Explore Antonio Galloni’s full report, notes and scores on Vinous (subscribers only)   Wine Advocate – Monica Larner  “Now is the time to take a closer look at this storied Tuscan appellation,” advises Monica Larner – who is clearly excited by the quality of the 2019 vintage in Montalcino.   For Larner, 2019 offers “good balance between acidity, concentration and tannins” – with the latter more elegant than those of the 2018s. The wines are concentrated and weighty, yet balanced and elegant, and therefore remind her of 2007 or 2015. As other critics note, the wines are likely to be approachable in youth yet have the acidity and structure to age. The season was “uniformly easy” in both the vineyard and winery, and she highlights the large number of wines scoring between 97 and 99 points.  While both Kerin O’Keefe and Antonio Galloni feel 2019 has the edge on 2016, Larner believes that “2016 remains superior in my view in terms of elegance and longevity”, although 2019 “ranks close”. For her, one of the reasons the vintage feels so significant is that it marks the beginning of what she perceives as a “new wave” for Montalcino, with a group of producers pushing quality forward, inspired by Burgundy and Barolo to make wines with “vibrant flavors, light and energy”.  Monica Larner’s top 2019s: Le Ragnaie V. V., Il Marroneto Madonna delle Grazie, Poggio di Sotto, Giodo, Salicutti Teatro, La Ragnaie Passo del Lume Spento, Canalicchio di Sopra Vigna Montosoli, Castello Romitorio Filo di Seta, Casanova di Neri Giovanni Neri, Ciacci Piccolomini d’Aragona Pianrosso, Pieve Santa Restituta Sugarille  Explore Monica Larner’s full report, notes and scores on the Wine Advocate (subscribers only)  Kerin O’Keefe  You may not be familiar with the name Kerin O’Keefe, but she is one of the leading Italian wine critics. She was the Italian Editor for Wine Enthusiast for almost a decade, before she set up her own platform, however she is perhaps best known for her most recent book, Barolo and Barbaresco: The King and Queen of Italian Wine, and also wrote a book on Brunello di Montalcino in 2012.  For O’Keefe, the 2019 vintage is clearly an excellent year for Montalcino. “I’ve never tasted so many drop-dead-gorgeous young Brunellos from a single vintage,” she writes. It “has definitely lived up to its lofty reputation” and “the 2019s are overall even better than the 2016s”, she says. The wines combine “intensity, exuberance and great fruit as well as balance”, with many estates making their best wines ever. The growing season was “ideal”, and most 2019s offer “vital energy and refined tannins that allow the wines to showcase their [terroir]”.  Of course, while “it’s hard to find any defects with the 2019s”, there are of course some “more densely concentrated wines with generous alcohol levels”. Most, however, are “incredibly fragrant”, “full-bodied”, with “great energy” and “taut but refined tannins”, with the best combining body and finesse. She anticipates the wines ageing beautifully over the next 20 or so years.  Kerin O’Keefe’s top 2019s: Conti Constanti, L’Aietta, Le Chiuse, Ciacci Piccolomini d’Aragona Pianrosso, Gianni Brunelli, Canalicchio di Sopra, Gorelli, La Gerla, Lisini, Mastrojanni Vigna Loreto, Podere Le Ripi Cielo d’Ulisse, Salicutti Sorgente, Talenti Piero, Ciacci Piccolomini d’Aragona  Explore Kerin O’Keefe’s full report, notes and scores on her site (subscribers only)  jancisrobinson.com – Walter Speller  The comparison between 2016 and 2019 continues in Walter Speller’s report and he highlights how divided producers are on which is better. All agree, however, that 2019 provided a growing season without extremes – something “which has become the definition of a great year”.  He draws comparisons between 2004 (which offered quantity and quality), as well as 2015. “I’m not entirely convinced 2019 has the same pedigree as 2016,” Speller writes. While there are some outstanding wines, he feels there are wines with stubborn tannins – and he doesn’t find it as consistent as other critics, but rather confirms that the best producers make fantastic wines year in, year out. He emphasises, as well, that quality is determined by producer rather than location in the region.   Walter Speller’s top 2019s: Il Marroneto Madonna delle Grazie, Canalicchio di Sopra Montosoli, Conti Constanti, Le Chiuse, Canalicchio di Sopra, Pieve Santa Restituta Sugarille, Le Ragnaie Casanovina Montosoli, Capanna, San Polino Helichrysum, Le Ragnaie V. V., Sesti, Fuligni  Explore Walter Speller’s full report, notes and scores on jancisrobinson.com (subscribers only)   James Suckling  James Suckling remarks that, as a growing season, 2019 was “a throwback to the late 1990s”, echoing other critics in saying that producers found it an easy year with no major challenges in the vineyard and winery. “I loved them,” he writes of the wines, enjoying a “crunchy and pure fruit character” in many. His two 100-point wines (Casanova di Neri Giovanni Neri and Valdicava Vigna Montosoli) have “incredible clarity of fruit and fine tannins as well as a transparency that takes them to their unique soils and locations on the hillsides surrounding Montalcino”.  Suckling also highlights how there is decreasing emphasis on new barriques, with old oak and larger casks increasingly favoured by producers in the region, as well as a growing number of single-site wines.  While he notes that producers compare the year to 2010, 2015 and 2016 (or some combination of those years), for him they are closest to 2004, 1997 or 1998 – having a “neoclassical character” thanks to their “agility and harmony”, and recommends giving them three to five years in bottle “to come into their own”. Whichever year you compare it to, however, Suckling is clear that “2019 is definitely a vintage to buy”.  James Suckling’s top 2019s: Casanova di Neri Giovanni Neri, Valdicava Vigna Montosoli, Giodo, Siro Pacenti Vecchie Vigne, Argiano Vigna del Suolo, Cerbaia, Fuligni, Tenuta Luce  Explore James Suckling’s full report, notes and scores on his site (subscribers only)  Jeb Dunnuck – Audrey Frick The latest report to be released on Montalcino is courtesy of Audrey Frick, Jeb Dunnuck’s Italian correspondent. She reports that 2019 wines are “exceptional and offer consistent greatness across the region”. She compares the wines to those of 2015 for their depth and concentration, 2016 for the vibrancy and tension, and 2010, saying that they offer “outstanding freshness, incredible balance of richness, and a great deal of complexity”. No matter your tastes, there is, she says “something for everyone regardless of style”. The easy growing season, with no major heat spikes or challenges, has resulted in a vintage that is defined by its “completeness” and advises “collectors are going to want to snatch up top bottles from across the region”. She highlights Poggio di Sotto and Il Marroneto Madonna delle Grazie in particular, identifying them as two, contrasting wines that “highlight the incredible potential of this vintage”. Audrey Frick’s top 2019s: Il Marroneto Madonna delle Grazie, Canalicchio di Sopra Vigna La Casaccia, Casanova di Neri Giovanni Neri, Gianni Brunelli, Giodo, Le Chiuse, Le Ragnaie V. V., Pieve Santa Restituta Rennina, Poggio di Sotto, Val di Suga Poggio al Granchio Explore Audrey Frick's full report, notes and scores on the Jeb Dunnuck site (subscribers only) Browse all current listings of 2019 Brunello di Montalcino or read more Editorial 

Following on the heels of 2017 and 2018, the 2019 vintage seems like a blessing for Montalcino – a year to rival 2016. As the Brunello di Montalcinos from the year are released, we provide a round-up of what the top critics are saying about the vintage – as well as their top-scoring wines

The leading critics’ views on 2019 Brunello di Montalcino as well as their top-scoring wines: Antonio Galloni, Monica Larner, Kerin O’Keefe and Walter Speller

Brunello di Montalcino 2019 – critics’ round-up 

Brunello di Montalcino 2019: what the critics are saying

The sheer number of distinctive styles of wine that emanate from France never fails to amaze. From the full-bodied, sumptuous Cabernets and Merlots of Bordeaux to the ethereal Pinot Noirs of Burgundy; from the mineral whites of the Loire to the aromatic spectrum of Alsace – everywhere you look there is variety. The Jura, situated in the remote central-eastern frontiers of France (bordering Switzerland) is another completely unique and distinctive French winemaking region – one which, perhaps because of its limited size and isolation, is not quite so universally known. But in recent years the region has grown in prominence and is now a real point of interest for collectors today – most notably for the quality of its white wines. Chardonnay and the native late-ripening white grape Savagnin produce wines that rival top Burgundy and, in many cases, offer better value. But it hasn’t been an easy road to recognition for the region. Following the phylloxera outbreak in the late 19th century, the Jura was on the brink of being wiped out altogether. Historically, it was a significant wine-producing region – 10 times bigger than it is today. But, in terms of size, it never recovered. Many of the vineyards were grubbed up, becoming farmland pastures; what remained amounts to just 2,000 hectares (a mere 10% of its original size). The leftfield oxidative style of the region’s wines also meant that as France’s wine exports grew, the Jura remained largely unnoticed. Traditionally, the region’s uniqueness came from the oxidative style of its white wines – the most famous, distinct and extreme of which is vin jaune. This white wine is made from Savagnin that is aged in barrels for over six years. During this time, the wine evaporates, allowing for oxygen ingress and a yeast film to form on top of the wine – protecting it from oxidation and at the same time strongly influencing the flavour. The process and effect is not dissimilar to Fino or Manzanilla Sherry, but the ageing is typically longer and the wine is neither fortified or blended – remaining single vintage. This style is distinct and, at its best, produces wines of outstanding complexity and fantastic ageing potential, but its intense flavours were never going to create mass appeal. Over the last 25 years or so, the younger generation of winemakers in the Jura have started to move away from only producing this oxidative style, influenced by their neighbours in Burgundy – whose vineyards are not dissimilar. The Jura – just 100km directly east of the Côte d’Or – shares similar soils of clay and Jurassic limestone and has the same continental climate, as well as growing both Chardonnay and Pinot Noir. In fact, many of the Jura’s younger vignerons cut their teeth making wine in Burgundy. Returning to their family domaines, they were more interested in producing wines styled on those of the Côte d’Or, focused on expressing site, rather than the region’s traditional style, dominated by oxidative characters and the influence of yeast. Young producers such as Jean-François Ganevat and Stéphane Tissot started to top their barrels, producing less oxidative, “ouillé” cuvées. This switch in style is arguably the most important recent development in the Jura. As these modern styles grew in popularity, the region started to attract a wider audience of fine wine drinkers.  Despite the similarities to Burgundy, the Chardonnay (sometimes blended with Savagnin) produced in the Jura brings its own elevated tautness and mouth-watering salinity and has acid-loving Chardonnay fans drooling. Burgundy producers themselves have even started to buy up land in the Jura; most famously Domaine Marquis d’Angerville set up Domaine du Pélican in 2012. Supposedly Guillaume d’Angerville was served a Chardonnay blind at Paris’s Taillevent restaurant and was convinced it was a top bottling of Burgundy. When he discovered it was from the Jura, he soon started exploring the region and before long had bought vineyards there. Fatter and richer in texture than Chablis, but more laser-like than the Côte d’Or – Jura whites have found a niche. What’s more, the vignerons’ knowledge of producing oxidative wines has given them the freedom to experiment with both reductive and oxidative characters (without going to the extremes of vin jaune), producing truly original wines. It is another distinct trait of the region that brings a lot of freedom to the winemaking and a lot of variety – even from just one producer. The Jura’s rise to prominence is also due to its association with low-intervention or natural wine – most notably the influence of Domaine Pierre Overnoy, based in the Jura hamlet of Pupillin. Overnoy is seen by many as the godfather of the natural wine movement – and his wines are today some of the most fiercely collected. The fanfare around this remarkable producer has been hugely influential on other producers in the region, at the same time raising the reputation of the region to an ever-widening audience. Other in-demand stars of Jura, who to one degree or another are classed as low-intervention producers and who make ouillé wines (though not exclusively) include Jean-François Ganevat and Stéphane Tissot. The difficulty today, at a time when Jura wines have never been more popular, is volume. Of all the regions in Europe, few have been hit as hard by spring frosts than the Jura. Successive vintages back to 2015 have seen production slashed. With rising demand, perhaps it’s time for the Jura appellation to expand once again and seek out sites that are less susceptible to frost. Domaine Pierre Overnoy aside, the top wines of Jura, for now, remain brilliant value – another reason fans of Burgundy are looking further afield. The white wine styles of the Jura Ouillé: Also described as modern or floral. In any other region, this is typically the “normal” style of any dry wine – in that the wine has no overt oxidative character. While traditionally barrels in the Jura might not have been topped up, allowing oxygen to influence the wine, for ouillé wines they are topped up to protect them from this. Sous voile: Also described as traditional or oxidative, these are the more traditional style of white wines from the region. Literally meaning “under the veil”, the wines are biologically aged with a film of yeast – like Manzanilla or Fino Sherry. Following fermentation, the wines are extensively aged in oak barrels that are not fully topped up. This encourages a film of yeast to form on the top of the wines, protecting them from oxidation and introducing yeast-influenced flavours. Depending on the winemaker, wines can be aged for one to 10 or more years using this method. The longer the wines are aged in barrel, the more oxidative flavours dominate the wine. Vin jaune is the most famous wine made in this style (see below). Vin jaune: A specific style of sous voile, with an official classification and made only with Savagnin. The wines have to spend over six years under flor before being bottled. Rich and complex, the most famous vin jaune is Château-Chalon. Vin jaune is also always bottled in a distinctive, squat 62cl clavelin bottle.

Macvin: This fortified Vin Doux Naturel is produced only in the Jura. It is made from the must of Savagnin which is then boiled – concentrating the must. It is then fortified with brandy to around 16% alcohol. Strictly this is not a wine since there is no fermentation process. Once fortified it is then aged for six years in oak. Vin de Paille: While not a style unique to Jura, it remains an important style of the region and with quite distinct rules under the appellation. Grapes (usually Chardonnay and Savagnin, and sometimes the red grape Poulsard and Trousseau) are typically picked early to retain acidity and then dried, concentrating the sugars. The wine is then fermented and must reach 14% alcohol. Depending on the grapes’ concentration, the residual sugar of the wine can vary from 60-130g/litre. The wine must be aged for a minimum three years (which includes 18 months in oak). The wines can be made in a fresh or oxidative style depending on the producer’s preference. The wines are always sold in half-bottles. Recommended wine producers in the Jura Domaine Pierre Overnoy: Since he was a boy, Pierre Overnoy was taught how to make wine by his father using traditional methods and without sulphur dioxide. Despite studying modern winemaking in Burgundy during the mid-1970s, he was disappointed by the results. Returning back to the Jura, he adapted his father’s traditional approach to produce wines to his liking – as well as making wines in a fresher non-oxidative style. In 1984, Overnoy stopped using sulphur during fermentation but continued to use a little at bottling. By 1986, he had stopped using SO2 at all. He has been hugely influential in the natural wine movement. In 2001, Pierre Overnoy retired at the age of 63, handing it over to his protégé Emmanuel Houillon, who worked alongside Overnoy from the age of 14. Overnoy’s almost evangelical following, along with miniscule levels of production, have made the wines highly sought-after. The release dates of the wines are not set, only released when Houillon deems them ready to drink, making it sometimes challenging for collectors. Houillon even bottles the same vintage of a wine at different dates – and only began to note bottling dates on the wine labels from 2018. Domaine Jean-François Ganevat: Ganevat is the 14th generation of his family to make wine in the Jura, with the family estate founded in 1650. Before joining the family estate in 1998, he worked with Jean-Marc Morey in Chassagne-Montrachet. Although the estate has just 8.5 hectares under vine, the domaine grows 45 different varieties – many of which are ancient, native varieties to the Jura, including two distinct red varieties Poulsard and Trousseau which are the most planted in the region along with Pinot Noir. His best wines however are his ouillé Savagnin and Chardonnay that can be outstanding. Benedicte & Stéphane Tissot: This is one of the largest and most important estates in the Jura today. Although the domaine name is officially still Domaine André & Mireille Tissot (named after Stéphane’s parents) the bottlings are labelled Benedicte & Stéphane Tissot. The domaine has 50 hectares under vine in both the Arbois appellation (where the winery is based) as well as the Côtes du Jura and Château-Chalon appellations. There is plenty of experimentation going on with the estate producing a wide array of cuvées from the traditional flor-aged Savagnin bottlings of place-designated vin jaunes of Château Chalon, La Vasée and Bruyères to their more modern ouillé single-vineyard Chardonnays. Tissot also produces a rosé made from a rare Chardonnay clone that has a natural pink tinge. Of the top cuvées, their single-vineyard Chardonnays from the Clos de la Tour de Curon, La Mailloche, Les Graviers and Les Bruyères vineyards are the most sought out. 
 Other top Jura producers to look out for: Domaine Rijckaert, Domaine Dugois, Domaine Pignier, Domaine Montbourgeau, Domaine de la Tournelle, Domaine Labet, Domaine des Miroirs, Domaine du Pélican, Domaine de la Touraize Browse all Jura listings or read more Editorial

With names like Overnoy, Ganevat and Tissot making it a must for collectors, the Jura's cool slopes are producing Chardonnay and Savagnin to rival Burgundy. Here’s everything you need to know about the region's whites – from the styles made to the producers to watch out for

Everything you need to know about the Jura wine region, its signature grapes Savagnin, Chardonnay and their styles Vin de Paille, Vin Jaune and Ouillé

A guide to the white wines of Jura

Your guide to the white wines of the Jura

Exploring the world of eaux de vie with artisan distillers who are elevating the ancient harvest ritual to the realm of alchemy

Exploring the world of eaux de vie with Rochelt, Capreolus, Domaine Roulot and Capovilla, who are elevating the ancient harvest ritual to the realm of alchemy

FONDATA: The quest for distilled perfection - eaux de vie

Fruits of wonder: the quest for distilled perfection

I am too disorganised to call myself a collector, but I often find myself thinking about the multiple meanings of collecting. I have a room full of books left unread from one year to the next, whose mute reproach I feel every time I am in their presence. I have half a dozen radios, from Marco Zanuso and Richard Sapper’s folding Brionvega TS502 to a Danish-made Beolit 707 from Bang & Olufsen, with its slide rule tuning device. I have a manual typewriter.  Most of us accumulate such random clutter. These were never possessions that were primarily about being useful – the Brionvega and the Beolit have long since been supplanted by a bluetooth speaker and a smartphone. They represent my membership of the design tribe.  The books carry other layers of meaning. My five years at university are on one shelf. The traces of the eight years I have spent writing a just-completed biography of Boris Iofan – Josef Stalin’s preferred architect – are spelled out in the titles of the books on another shelf. The typewriter was inherited from my father and it serves to remind me of childhood. The closest that I come to having a collection that a serious collector might acknowledge is in my chairs: a Rover chair that Ron Arad salvaged from a car, a Gio Ponti Superlegera, an Eames Lounger, a Harry Bertoia, George Sowden’s Palace chair from the 1983 Memphis collection and a deconstructed armchair designed by Rei Kawakubo. On a larger or smaller scale, humans develop complex relationships with their possessions that can go from the professionalism of full-blown collecting, to the casual significance of a row of junk shop finds on a mantlepiece. They can tell us a lot about ourselves. Marina Warner’s guide to the house in Hampstead, now run as a museum, in which Sigmund Freud spent the last year of his life, offers an arresting insight into the significance that collecting had for him. She describes the ranks of ancient bronze, ceramic and marble figures parading across the desk that Freud brought with him to London from Vienna where he no longer felt safe due to Nazi occupation in 1938. Certainly, they are beautiful, and mostly they are precious. Thanks to their association with Freud, even the few that have been established as 20th-century forgeries will have become valuable. Some are almost 4,000 years old and reflect the religious and political practices of the distant past. Others, such as Freud’s art deco cigar case, come less freighted with history. But as Warner says, “they were also tools of thought, the kitchen utensils of his imagination”.   The batterie de cuisine of psychoanalysis included Egyptian coffin masks from the Roman period, Chinese jade and gold brooches, Roman glass, a 2,500-year-old sphinx, sarcophagus lids, Babylonian cylinder seals and Egyptian heart scarabs, as well as a 19th-century neck rest from New Guinea, modern metal porcupines, and Balinese figures. The pieces in pride of place on his desk, placed in apparently random order, were his special favourites, a tiny fraction of his collection that had become permanent fixtures. From time to time, Freud made space for a few new acquisitions to get a look in. “A collection to which there are no new additions is really dead,” he told his biographer Ernest Jones. After a short interval, most of the new things would be moved into the glass-fronted cabinets positioned around his study, where they were placed in more organised groups than those standing on his desk. Greek sculptures went on a shelf together. A cluster of representations of the Egyptian god Horus were grouped on another.  In Freud’s lifetime, the collection was continually changing. Before his move to London, he toured Vienna’s antiquities dealers almost every week on the look-out for new finds. He was ready to exchange pieces for items he could not afford to buy, and was generous in gifting pieces to friends and pupils he thought would appreciate them. Freud also had no qualms about buying items that came on the market in questionable circumstances, in particular, from the unofficial excavations (sometime after 1906) at a Roman fort in Hungary.   Despite the important part it played in his life, Freud wrote very little about collecting. The nearest that he came to spelling out what drove his interest in fragments of ancient sculpture, was when he compared his own exploration of the unconscious minds of his patients to an archaeological excavation of an ancient city. “The psychoanalyst, like the archaeologist, must uncover layer after layer of the patient’s psyche before coming to the deepest, most valuable treasures.”  Freud was known to share his dining table with choice specimens to act as companions during a meal. “I must always have an object to love”, he confessed to his colleague and rival Carl Jung. When he was writing his book The Interpretation of Dreams in 1895, Freud spent the summer at Schloss Bellevue outside Vienna. He took a selection of what he called “my old grubby gods who take part in the works as paperweights for the manuscripts” with him.  Before Freud left Austria for England in 1938, his desk, his consulting room, and his study at Berggasse 19 were photographed by Edmund Engelman. Engelman’s 150 images helped Freud’s architect son Ernst to transpose the desk and its contents from a dark back room in a Viennese apartment to a sunlit Hampstead villa.  Like most collectors, Freud could never limit himself to a single field. Ronald Lauder the former MoMA chairman, for example, is known for the collection of Viennese modernism that forms the basis for his own museum, the Neue Galerie in New York. He also collects (in depth) in 15 other fields with little apparent connection between them. Lauder is fascinated by the work of the Japanese designer Shiro Kuramata. He has a collection of arms and armour going back to The Crusades, and another of World War Two memorabilia. He owns some of Egon Schiele’s finest works, as well as various 18th-century French artworks. Fellow collector Rolf Fehlbaum (head of Vitra) has one of the largest collections of modern chairs in the world, and gave Frank Gehry his first European commission to design a gallery for it, but he is equally fascinated by toy robots manufactured in Japan since 1937. He calls them tiny kinetic sculptures. Where possible, he acquires their original packaging too. Perhaps the best way to understand the psychology of collecting is to see it as a spectrum. At one end, it is about order and control. In a messy and uncontrollable universe, a collection offers at least a semblance of certainty. A collection of this kind is based on provenance, completeness and authenticity. An over-restored vintage Bugatti is less desirable to a collector than one in original condition.  Every previous owner, every detail of its making forms part of its record. A red Olivetti typewriter designed by Ettore Sottsass that once belonged to David Bowie was sold at Sotheby’s for US$65,000. You can buy one (that hasn’t been owned by Bowie) for US$750, which is still a lot of money for a piece of obsolete technology. Some collectors attempt to make patterns from the things that they acquire or, like jigsaw puzzlers, set out to complete a picture by locating every piece of a set. Some try to document the evolution of a species whether the subject of their interest is biscuit tins or the eggs of a particular type of bird. Some forms of collecting require the active engagement of the collector. Wildflowers need to be picked and dried quickly before they are pressed into a book. Butterfly collectors used macabre methods such as poison jars, or squeezing the thorax, to dispatch their prey without causing so much distress that they risk damaging delicate wings. At the other end of the spectrum, the accumulation of stuff by people who die alone in homes overwhelmed by stacks of ancient newspapers and tins of cat food, is a kind of sickness. It’s a condition that can overwhelm even the most celebrated of artists. In the last 17 years of his life, Andy Warhol filled a succession of cardboard boxes with a seemingly random accumulation of objects: taxi receipts, a vinyl Ramones single signed by Joey Ramone, a piece of an ancient, mummified foot, pastel-coloured corsets and a selection of metal dentures. Every time he had a full box, it was sealed and shipped off to storage in a warehouse in New Jersey. A typical box has 400 objects in it, some have as many as 1,200. Items in them include a piece of Caroline Kennedy’s wedding cake – Warhol seems to have been a regular guest at Kennedy weddings. He showed up 20 minutes after the wedding ceremony for Maria Shriver and Arnold Schwarzenegger had started, in the company of Grace Jones. He was in black leather, and wearing two wigs; she had on a huge green fur hat.   Warhol’s boxes are a collection of the uncollectable and the uncontrollable, which, thanks to the resources of the Andy Warhol Foundation, has been tamed after six years of work by a dedicated group of archivists and cataloguers. The Andy Warhol Museum in Pittsburgh has aestheticised the cardboard boxes. They sit on back-lit shelves in the museum to suggest that this is not a random collection of trash that Warhol never looked at, but, in the view of the museum, is in fact a time-based art piece, comprising at least 500,000 objects that took 30 years to complete. It presents a considerably less impressive sight than British Regency period architect Sir John Soane’s museum. The architect of the Bank of England put as much effort into adapting his Lincoln’s Inn Fields house (and subsequently the two adjoining houses) to display his Hogarth paintings, a sarcophagus and his architectural models, as he did to accumulating the collection itself. The Nobel prize-winning Turkish writer Orhan Pamuk’s novel, The Museum of Innocence is an eloquent exploration of the hoarding end of the collecting spectrum. What initially appears to be an account of a doomed love affair, quickly reveals itself as an exploration of the meaning of collecting. The story’s main protagonist Kemal starts acquiring things when his relationship with his lover Füsun is going well. When she drops an earring, he finds it and puts it to one side. As Füsun falls out of love with him, Kemal begins an increasingly desperate accumulation of objects that record their relationship. He picks up each of the cigarettes that she smokes. When she has stopped seeing him altogether, Kemal starts hanging around at her parents’ house and stealing pieces of cutlery that she might have used.  What makes Pamuk’s book particularly remarkable is that he acquired a house in Istanbul’s Beyoğlu district that had belonged to a Greek merchant in the Ottoman era, and transformed it into a physical Museum of Innocence. It is, of course, very far from innocent; everything inside it is a lovingly created fiction. The first thing that you see once you get inside, is a wall covered with 4,213 cigarette ends, each of them carefully annotated in Pamuk’s neat handwriting, with imaginary details of the time and place they were smoked. The rest of the house is full of equally carefully fabricated objects from cosmetics to movie posters that reflect Pamuk’s vision of the modernising Turkey of the 1970s. “I think getting attached to objects happens in traumatic times and love is a trauma,” Pamuk once said. “Perhaps when they are in trouble, people hoard things.”  When Pamuk gave me a tour of his museum, he told me about meeting Warhol’s archivist, and expressed his reservations about the significance of the boxes in Pittsburgh. “Hoarding objects reaches the level of collecting only when there is a story that unites them,” he said. But that is a novelist criticising another, less narrative art form. While Freud’s desk in Hampstead was always useable, if overcrowded, the desk in fashion designer Paul Smith’s office in Covent Garden is completely overwhelmed with a snowdrift of collected objects that sweeps over an office chair, down onto the floor, and back up to the shelves that line every wall. There are stacks of books and magazines, cameras and mountains of vintage cycling jerseys. There is an i-Mac computer, a gift from Jony Ive that Smith has never used. Computers aren’t Smith’s thing. In any case, it’s too late now, short of purging half the contents of the room: there is no way to get near it. There are toy tin cars, collections of bottles from Moroccan markets, a pink bicycle and a lot of rabbits. “I once said in an interview that seeing a rabbit brings me luck, and they haven’t stopped pouring in ever since,” explains Smith. Collecting began, as did so many things in Smith’s career, with his early enthusiasm for cycling. Growing up in Nottingham in the 1950s, there was a newsagent which occasionally had a copy of L’Equipe, which would portray the heroes of the Tour de France in their yellow jerseys in colour on the cover, but in sepia inside. He bought the magazine, fascinated by the images, even if he couldn’t read it. “I can remember once saying, ‘I really like Jacques Anquetil’ to my father, which baffled him, since none of our family had ever been abroad. I saved my pocket money so that I could upgrade the gears on my bike from Simplex to Campagnolo. The box it came in was as important to me as the gear itself.”  What attracted Smith to the Campagnolo box, along with stamps and matchboxes which he has in large numbers – not just in his office but at his Nottingham HQ where he has an archivist trying to make sense of it all – is the way that designers can say so much in such a tiny space. He showed me a Japanese book of matches produced for a Tokyo nightclub in the 1970s. “It so clearly says it’s ‘contemporary’. You can hear the jazz already.”  Despite the huge assortment of assembled objects, Smith is reluctant to describe himself as a collector. “I just have a large quantity of the same things,” he says, matter of factly. “In my head, a collector is someone who selects an item or a subject. They collect them because they know a lot about them. Maybe I have a little knowledge about cycling jerseys.  In the early 1980s, on my first trips to Japan and India, I just got a bit carried away. I bought lots of Japanese furniture. In India, for some reason, I bought 15 wardrobes, and a piece of furniture that doubled as a staircase with drawers.” Smith had them all sent home on the Trans-Siberian Express.  He suggests that his is a collection that has found him. “Things collect me,” he says. “For some reason I started to be sent things, and they still keep coming.” There is an individual who regularly sends Smith artefacts that come unwrapped but covered in postage stamps. Others send him letters, toys, books and even ancient packets of razor blades. One visitor took careful photographs of his office, and later sent him a precisely detailed model of his office, complete with its chaotic contents. Smith’s London home, where he lives with his wife Pauline, is much calmer. “The house is hers. I do have one room for my stuff, but it’s mostly at the office that I get to look at things.” In 1996, patron of the arts and barrister Jill Ritblat gave the V&A Museum the largest single donation of clothes in its history, more than 1,000 items. There are ski outfits in postmodern pastel shades from the 1980s, and challenging Japanese experiments from Yohji Yamamoto and Issey Miyake, as well as couture from Dior and Saint Laurent. There is work by Alexander McQueen, Biba, Mary Quant, and Christian Lacroix, Emanuel Ungaro and Victor Edelstein, and an evening outfit produced by a dressmaker based on an idea of Ritblat’s own design.  The early days of British fashion from the 1960s are represented by Foale and Tuffin, and Zandra Rhodes, and from the 1980s by Margaret Howell and Katharine Hamnett. There is tailoring from Tommy Nutter and work by Giorgio Armani. It is by no means a complete account of contemporary fashion, but it is certainly extensive, and like the personal wardrobe that it is, combines some very special pieces made for family occasions, with more everyday wear. The connecting thread of Ritblat’s collection is Ritblat herself. These were all pieces that she had bought to wear. They were not chosen like stamps, or old masters, or celadon vases to make a self-conscious collection, but were the result of a continuing sequence of choices over time. Taken together they are a reflection of her life as an English woman of a certain background, at a particular time in the country’s history. “I never saw it as a collection, it was more like my diary, though I have never had time to write a diary. Each piece brings back memories of when I wore it,” says Ritblat. She made her first donation to the V&A at the end of 1996, but kept back the things that she wanted to be able to go on using, and they formed the core of a donation to the Design Museum of another 400 items in 2013. Ritblat is ambivalent about fashion. As a child she was somewhat self-conscious about being dressed by her mother, who had studied fashion herself. She was relieved to be able to assume the camouflage of the complex uniform rituals of an English public school for girls in the 1950s. “I loved my school uniform at Roedean; we were expected to change our clothes four times a day, as chic as anything. Scratchy afternoon dresses, regulation school loafers, very nice blazers and pleated skirts.” As a student barrister, she found herself adopting the formal uniform of the legal profession, but then as a married woman began to build a wardrobe that reflected the life that she was leading. Later, when she was making her own choices, she was early to discover Miuccia Prada. “What you pick out is based on whether it suits you and on the zeitgeist,” she explains. Smith, Heseltine and Ritblat represent three very different approaches to collecting. For Smith, the unruly mountain of things in his office, is, like the collection on Sigmund Freud’s desk, part of the tools of his imagination, a source of imagery and ideas for his work as a designer. It’s also a means of establishing his personality. Heseltine’s garden is an investment of time, resources and creativity in the remaking of a place that speaks to the future using living organisms that will outlive us all. Ritblat’s clothes are a record of the full life of an individual. All of these collections provide insights into unique people, their lives and times. In their different ways all three reflect on the nature of collecting, and its ability to be a creative activity in itself. In a world in which technology threatens to abolish the material world altogether, objects have not lost their allure. Their physical condition marks the passing of time in ways that pixels and code cannot do. Collecting is the means all of us have to create histories of our times, and even more, of ourselves. This article was originally published in FONDATA, Issue Two. 

In order to explore the mindset of the collector, Deyan Sudjic shines a light on the collected objects of Sigmund Freud and Andy Warhol, and speaks to three British collectors to better understand what it is that makes collecting such a vital part of the human experience.

Exploring the mindset of the collector and why the act is a vital part of the human experience, with a focus on Sigmund Freud and Andy Warhol

FONDATA: Exploring the art of collecting 

 I Collect, Therefore I Am

Oak barrels have been used in winemaking for thousands of years. While initially their purpose was simply as a holding vessel, today it is much more than this. As we have learnt about wine production at a molecular level, we have discovered the unique interaction between oak and wine – adding flavour, textural complexity and increased ageing potential. These intrinsic qualities have seen oak at the forefront of fine wine’s greatest success stories – but also some of its greatest failures. The use of oak to improve a wine requires great skill and finding that balance has shaped the modern history of fine wine.  What is rather beautiful about winemaking, particularly in fine wine circles, is that despite the input from developments in science and technology, production remains an artisan craft, relying both on tradition and technology. The barrel-maker is a perfect example of this partnership and no one understands this better than François Frères. This lauded Burgundy cooper’s ties to the world’s greatest wines make it one of a very small number that have lived through the development and fashions within fine wine.  Today, business has never been better for François Frères; they produce 30,000 barrels a year and export to every major wine region in the world. The secret to the François Frères barrels historically, Gigandet believes, is their consistency, while the all-important signature toasting is paramount. To keep up with the ever-growing world of fine wine, François Frères produces tailor-made barrels that fit the varying climates and varying styles of each winemaker, meeting the standards set by today’s precision-led winemaking. Despite the growth of the business in recent years, François Frères still remains intrinsically linked to its homeland in Burgundy and the specific microclimate of Saint-Romain that is so important for the seasoning of their oak – another key factor behind the company’s success. “The microclimate of Saint-Romain, in a windy and pollution-free environment is ideal for the seasoning and drying of the oak. This oxidation of phenolic compounds under the influence of fungi, releases enzymes that hydrolyse the phenolic compounds, reducing the wood’s astringency, producing oak of the finest quality for wine production,” Gigandet tells me. The art of the cooper is much more than just sawing and toasting – it’s about sourcing, traceability, control of drying time and heating, hygiene, temperature control, sorting and more. With increased knowledge, the quality of the barrels, like that of the wines, has greatly improved. Even just a few years ago, Gigandet admits that in colder Burgundy vintages, sometimes their barrels jarred with the wine – they “brought too much tension and could sometimes seem too austere”. But now they have a better understanding of the qualities their barrels can bring to Burgundy: “François Frères barrels remain attractive to winemakers because they are great at retaining freshness and minerality.” Perhaps most importantly, François Frères wants its barrels to amplify a wine’s intrinsic qualities. “It wants to accentuate the beautiful tannic structure of a wine, contribute to its flavour but without excess of sweetness from the toasting, as well as amplifying the wine's tension and minerality, helping retain its freshness and its fruit,” Gigandet says. As technology has developed, so has François Frères. It is what Gigandet aptly calls “the evolution of taste” – “the cask has evolved considerably over the last few decades along with the quality of the wines. Today, the barrel is much more specific, manufacturing almost tailor-made barrels for each customer’s needs.” The business was founded by Joseph François in the early 1900s, never imagining that being a cooper would become a full-time job. Back then, Gigandet reminds us, “It took several trades to live.” But the next generation, Robert and Henri François, saw the demand for oak casks rise, at that time mainly used to transport wines. They took the operation full-time, creating the François Frères brand in 1942. In those days, as Gigandet points out, “The tradition of maturing wines in barrels was reserved only for the very top red and white wines of Burgundy and the great Bordeaux châeaux.” Even within these regions, barrels were a luxury, re-used year after year given their expense, therefore keeping the demand for new barrels low. By the 1960s the brothers were met by the development of stainless steel and plastic containers. The barrel quickly lost it supremacy as the preferred vessel for transportation and demand plummeted. It was only the top producers that helped keep the cooperage going. By the 1970s François Frères was producing barrels for one of the world’s most famous estates, Domaine de la Romanée-Conti – a partnership that would be instrumental in the continuation of the business through a difficult period. The next generation – Robert's son, Jean – was confronted by the economic downturn of the early 1970s and turned to export to save the family business. Fortuitously at this time, oenologists in the United States started to highlight how ageing wines in new oak barrels brought complementary flavours and complexity to the wines. In the 1980s, the French market caught onto the idea and both export and domestic markets grew. The oak barrel was entering an era where it would become the star of the show – and a must for all top producers. François Frères’s reputation for working with the best saw it perfectly placed to capitalise on this new-found love for the barrel. But according to Gigandet, it wasn’t just the fashion of using new oak in the 1980s and ’90s that saw such a huge increase in demand. This trend emerged just as wine exports exploded. What he calls “the democratisation of wine” saw the world of wine suddenly open up to the middle classes – and this increase in sales saw an ever-increasing need to maintain quality and improve consistency. Such demand prompted and funded a better scientific and technological understanding of wine production. More importantly for François Frères, it fuelled the need for a better understanding of what barrel-ageing does to wine – and why. It was already clear that contact with new oak changed wine profoundly. Most obviously the aromas and flavours of the wine develop, becoming more complex. These aromas and flavours are formed during the toasting of the barrels. “It is this toasting of the barrel that remains the signature of the cooper,” explains Gigandet. But the oak didn’t just impact the flavour, they came to understand that, being porous, oak allowed the wine to undergo “controlled oxygenation”. The exchange of air through the oak staves, in particular for red wines, helps stabilise the colour and polymerise the tannins. This polymerisation not only softens the wine, but brings a textural complexity, a millefeuille layering of mouth-feel brought about by the linking of long tannin chains, encouraged by the micro-oxygenation process that the wine goes through when aged in oak barrel. “François Frères barrels are ageing tools, which contribute to the textural improvement of wines, when used wisely,” Gigandet explains. As the wine world’s love of oak grew, François Frères’ main export customers went from little-known names to pioneers in their respective regions – with Robert Mondavi in the US, Angelo Gaja in Italy, Nicolas Catena in Argentina and Australia’s Rosemount winery. Each of these producers further cemented the cooper’s reputation, representing the very pinnacle of oak barrel production. Of course, like all fashions, the oak craze of the ’90s saw some extreme uses – 200% new oak ageing or an over-reliance on oak to provide flavour to wines that lacked the natural concentration to carry it. This saw many producers and consumers react strongly against its presence in wine at all. Even Gigandet admits that there are wines with “excess woodiness” to their detriment. Today, the barrel also has to compete with new trends in wine maturation – concrete eggs and clay amphorae, for instance. But while these new vessels have captured the imagination of the world’s top winemakers, it is not necessarily at the expense of the barrel. “The barrel has an important oenological role in the development of wines from certain grape varieties,” states Gigandet – notably Cabernet Sauvignon, Merlot, Syrah and Pinot Noir. But he also outlines how different ageing vessels combined can also benefit a wine’s potential for complexity. This is certainly the case amongst some leading producers in Bordeaux and Burgundy that are using both oak barrels and alternative ageing vessels. Coopers like François Frères have weathered the changing relationship wine has had with the barrel; with shifting views of critics and drinkers over the last century. Fortunately for fine wine lovers, there’s little sign of oak fading into the background. Oak remains a vital ingredient in many of the world’s greatest wines, adding to its flavour, textural complexity and – of course – ageing potential. Today oak has never been so deftly handled, bringing so much to a wine, while retaining the grapes’ natural expression. The art of the cooper lives on. Read more Editorial 

Oak has played a vital role in the changing history of fine wine. In 2021 we spoke to Max Gigandet – Managing Director of leading Burgundy cooper François Frères – to explore the power of a good barrel and why oak isn’t going anywhere

Exploring the vital role oak has played in the changing history of fine wine and the power of a good barrel with François Frères

François Frères on the art of the cooper

Finding the balance: the art of the cooper

As the drone camera takes us up over the trees, you can see how dense the forest is around Promontory’s vineyards in the western hills of Oakville district in Napa. Apart from the small vineyard plots dotted along the canyon, the landscape is rugged and untamed. In total, just 10% of the Promontory estate is planted to vines, representing 34 hectares of the property.  The whole area is protected so this site will remain small and genuinely cut-off – but that is exactly how proprietor Will Harlan wants it. “Promontory is truly a world apart from the Napa Valley that most people experience,” he says. For a long time, this canyon was hidden in plain sight. Many locals born and raised in Napa were completely unaware of its existence. Looking up from Napa, all you see are the mountain ridges above, yet beyond theses ridges lies this hidden valley, its undulating hills ideal for vineyards. It was in fact Will Harlan’s father H. William, or Bill, Harlan (founder of Napa’s most prestigious cult Cabernet, Harlan Estate) that literally stumbled across the canyon while hiking back in the 1980s. Although his interest in the land spans over 30 years, the opportunity to buy the property only arose in 2008. At first, the family thought the vineyards might be used for Bond or Harlan – but the character of the fruit was so fundamentally different, Will explains, that they decided to make Promontory its own project. Fast forward to the current day, and the 2016 vintage – the eighth ever – is about to be released. With the second generation of Harlans (Will) and winemaker Cory Empting (also from Harlan Estate) at the helm, Promontory has fast become one of Napa’s most consistent and captivating, not to mention collectable, Cabernets. While only a 20-minute drive from the Harlan winery, Promontory feels remote – with a totally different microclimate. The vineyards are mainly on the valley’s cooler east-facing slopes (with an average gradient of 38%), but they have some decent elevation too, sitting at between 150 and 340 metres above sea-level. The fog that settles in the valley brings much-needed moisture to the vines, as well as moderating the temperature and allowing the team to produce cooler-toned and fragrant Cabernet Sauvignon. 
The first vines were planted in the mid-1980s and early 1990s, with a mixture of varieties, but the team started replanting in 2011, focusing entirely on Cabernet – the grape that they feel best expresses the place. The fruit from the young vines is being used for a separate wine (The Mascot) that isn’t part of Promontory. The older vines are dry-farmed, and the plan is for everything to be long term – with just a little irrigation being used to establish the young vines and “educate them not to be irrigated”, Will explains. 
Beyond the seclusion, these hillside vineyards have two distinct fault lines running through them, roughly demarcating the boundaries between volcanic, sedimentary and metamorphic soils. This diverse geology is another facet that distinguishes the Promontory vineyards from the rest of Napa and is what Harlan believes provides a distinct mineral backbone and tension to the wine. As we walk (virtually) through the winery, we arrive in the barrel room, faced with a gigantic piece of volcanic rock. It is a beautiful sight in itself – lifted out of the vineyard and displayed at the winery, underpinning the specificity of the terroir of this secluded canyon. The place is so different that Harlan feels they needed “to unlearn and relearn” an approach that suited the property. The barrel room holds another important element in creating these special wines – their Stockinger barrels. Austrian coopers Stockinger have become one of the most reputable for fine wine in recent years and Promontory was the first in the US to use them. They realised the wine’s tight but very fine tannins needed more time as it evolved slowly. As such, they started looking for larger barrels and in 2012 purchased a range from Stockinger – from 1,800  to 4,400 -litres.  The Stockinger barrels are praised for their ability to limit the influence of oak flavour, while carrying out all the subtle micro-oxygenation that enables the building of long tannin chains. These tannin chains produce a fabulous textural complexity in the wine, while at the same time the fine-grained oak preserves the natural aromatics and fruit purity. Harlan and Empting give the wines five and a half years between harvest and release – with two and a half to three of those in barrel, allowing the wines to “unfold” in these more neutral and “respectful” barrels.  The results are breath-taking. Tasting the soon to be released 2015, which was aged for two and half years in cask, the textural finesse and precision of the tannins in some ways make the wine feel almost weightless in structure, while at the same time being detailed and complex. It's astonishing that this property and its potential lay undiscovered for so many years. One thing’s for sure now, though: the secret’s out. Find out more about Promontory, or its sister estates Harlan and Bond

Promontory’s owner Will Harlan took us on a virtual tour of this remarkable property tucked out of sight in the Napa Valley.

Visiting Promontory in Napa’s Oakville district with Will Harlan (from the family who founded Napa’s most prestigious cult Cabernet, Harlan Estate).

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