Sunday Times
The culture of dating

It’s a question lobbed at most couples eventually. “So where did you two meet?“. How about being able to lob back: “In front of a large abstract, actually”?

It used to only be in art house movies that romance sparked in, well, art houses. But every gallery goer has sometimes found their attention drifting from a stunning artwork to an equally stunning fellow admirer. Cue Art2Heart. Inspiration for Ranj Mujambar’s agency came at a private view in 2004 where he noticed how many single people were enjoying the combination of wine and stimulating vibe with a readymade discussion topic on hand. Why not be upfront about the romantic possibilities?    

London’s leading galleries have been keen to help, with two of the most successful outings last year at places as different as the V&A and the Saatchi Gallery. “Charles Saatchi thought it was a hoot,” Ranj reveals, as a happy hubbub goes on behind us at a Hayward gallery event.

The crowd are a spritely mix, from glammed up to boho, though as the champagne-fuelled conversation flows one woman confides with a laugh that an hour into things no-one has yet asked her what kind of art she liked!

While Lisa turned out to be a post-Impressionist gal, those with more leftfield taste might prefer to join the ranks of the Quixotic. This funkier ‘Beauty and the Beats’ alternative to mainstream gallery dating has launched at Rich Mix - a concrete and glass arts hangout at the edgier end of Bethnal Green Road in London’s East End - with visual stimulation courtesy of  Degreeart.com, a fast-expanding online showcase for newly graduated artists. 

The work is so fresh the paint has hardly dried, and includes some raunchy imagery by the likes of painter Kate Marshall to spark a lively crowd necking cocktails to a hip soundtrack.  “Quixotic isn’t just a dating event or a private view,” says Degree.art co-founded Elinor Olisa. “It‘s a gathering of people who to varying degrees like art, with a relaxed atmosphere and lack of gimmicky dating tactics.”

In the past, of course, those who didn’t get a romantic introduction through work/ friends or struck gold in the bar chat-up stakes could always turn to the Lonely Hearts. My own encounter with those came in the late 1980s, when it was tough for a sensitive cultured sort - most men sold themselves with boasts of Loadsamoney jobs and flash cars and the women weren’t much better with stipulations about solvency and suits. Looking for a romantic walk in the woods? Only if it’s on your country estate, sunshine. 

Not that a money-grubbing attitude to the mating game was anything new. In the 19th century, male advertisers in personals would often specify their annual income without feeling any need to add anything about physical appearance let alone interests!

Things got off to an even less romantic start with the first personal ran in 1727. Tired of the spinsterish life, Helen Morrison persuaded The Manchester Weekly Journal to accept a tiny advertisement to the effect that she would be happy to make the acquaintance of a pleasant gentleman to spend time with.  Unfortunately, scandalised readers saw this plea as barely one step up from soliciting, and poor Helen found herself committed to an asylum for four weeks as punishment for her madness!

God knows what the 18th century folk would have made then of speed-dating.  Despite the plethora of events and endless variations to inject life into the formula, the experience of joining a motley collection of singles for short bursts of chat seems to be less than fulfilling for many. “Three minutes of dreary small talk with 26 men I had nothing in common with,” was how one friend described her experience.

The “nothing in common” complaint is, of course, where cultural dating holds the aces. While galleries are providing one romantic forum, music provides another through agencies such as Classical Partners, whose typical event involves a pre-concert meal, then drinks or coffee afterwards to chat about the performance. Special outings include trips abroad, such as a forthcoming opera weekend in Munich. “A shared love of music and the arts is such a good starting point for a relationship,” enthuses owner Caroline Boon. “And people who love those things often share other interests - a love of walking, reading, other cultures.”

Personals, too, have taken on a new cultured sheen. When one of Britain’s most highbrow titles, the London Review Of Books decided to give ad space to Cupid it was, according to advertising director David Rose, “a simple exercise to help people with similar literary and cultural tastes get together". 

No-one was quite prepared, however, for the first ad to arrive: “67-year-old disaffiliated flâneur picking my toothless way through the urban sprawl, self-destructive, sliding towards pathos, jacked up on Viagra and on the lookout for a contortionist who plays the trumpet.” The tone was set for a gloriously British cult of comic self-deprecation that has reportedly attracted interest in Hollywood. 

You can see why the Yanks might find the LRB personals fascinating when you compare them with the paeans of self-glorification in its nearest US equivalent, The New York Review of Books. One typical female advertiser there “resembles a petite Julia Roberts". Another boasts "the sophistication of Diana Rigg combined with likeness to Lady Diana (cheekbones, eyes, hair)". This army of clever, gorgeous women vie to attract men who are all wealthy, smart sophisticates.

One can only imagine what Manhattanites would make of the following LRB effort: "Public school failure. Insipid, directionless, probably poor in bed”.  Others are terser still. “Angry trollop, 37. Offers?" Or how about: "Tap-dancing Classics lecturer. Chilling isn't it?"

If the ads are scary, what might the advertisers be like in the flesh? The magazine decided to find out in 2005 when it ran its first singles nights at the LRB bookshop. “You'd be amazed at how easily a bookshop can be turned into a pot of simmering romance and sexuality,” Rose confides. “And everyone was quite beautiful really.”

Rose believes the ads have been a force for good as well as hugely entertaining. “People have become lazy about how they approach dating. They fill out a questionnaire and wait for the work to be done for them - like pressing a button on a vending machine and waiting for the goodie bar to fall out. Cultural events, by asking people to think creatively and talk intelligently, require effort.”

“The meeting of minds is more important than physical attraction in the long term,” Rose points out, before stating a truth often lost in the dating game. “After all, the brain is the largest erogenous zone.” Smart stuff.