Over the past year, we visited the homes of numerous collectors. These three art-filled retreats, each secluded in nature, stayed with us. Christian Levett, a British billionaire who has appeared on the Forbes list for years, spends every summer in Mougins, one of France’s most beautiful towns. He transformed an 1980s villa whose balconies look out toward the distant Alps and Mediterranean.
Inside are nearly 2,000 works collected over thirty years, each with a story and a stature to rival a museum. Arthur de Villepin is the son of Dominique de Villepin, the former prime minister of France. His home is in Hong Kong’s Southern District, where nature can be seen from almost every angle: water from the living room, mountains from the bedroom. Every work in the house revolves around an olive tree.
Tas Careaga is a designer from Spain. He lives at the center of a forest in a Basque town, in a sixteenth-century church surrounded by greenery. Secluded and beautiful, the house is hung with art and feels like a private museum marked by a singular personality. Editors: Huang Xirui and Chen Youran. Christian Levett (top) and his garden (bottom). Levett, a British billionaire, has appeared on the Forbes list for years and once ranked as high as No. 17.
A collector for nearly thirty years, Levett owns close to 2,000 works, ranging from one of the world’s largest private collections of ancient weapons and armor to works by such canonical masters as Picasso, Matisse, and Van Gogh, and contemporary figures including Damien Hirst and Tracey Emin. Levett’s home and the view from its second-floor terrace. For twenty years, he has spent every summer in Mougins, a town in the south of France with a population of only 19,000, transforming an aging 1980s villa into a museum-like “collector’s home.”
This summer, he also founded FAMM (Femmes Artistes du Musée de Mougins), Europe’s first museum devoted to women artists. We visited FAMM exclusively before its opening and were guests at Levett’s home in Mougins. The mountain view from Mougins. Six kilometers north of Cannes, along a winding mountain road, lies Mougins, one of France’s most beautiful towns, where Picasso, Man Ray, Fernand Léger, and other major artists once lingered.
The town has a population of only 19,000. After twenty minutes circling its stone-paved streets, nearly everyone seemed to be sunning themselves and drinking something small and cold. Levett was probably the only person in town in a state of near-total frenzy. On the day of our visit, he had just finished preparing for the museum’s opening and conducting two interviews. He collapsed on the sofa and slept for a few minutes; when he heard us come in, he casually pulled on a baseball cap and greeted us warmly, without a trace of ceremony. Under his care, the pink, two-story villa built in the 1980s rivals a museum.
From medieval tile floors and Verona stone columns 800 years old to antique sculptures, furniture, and lamps, and from modern and contemporary masters’ paintings and manuscripts to the knives and forks on the table, everything has a pedigree. For twenty years, Levett has come here with his family every summer.
“There’s no work, no entertaining, and no need to go out and socialize. We stay home to recharge, gathering in the outdoor living room beneath the vines and the arcade to talk, or going up to the second-floor balcony to look out at the distant Alps and Mediterranean. This year, of course, is an exception. To open the museum, I’ve gone back to the life of an entrepreneur at an age when I’m supposed to be retired.” Levett, 54, said this with a laugh. He founded what was once the world’s largest commodity hedge fund.
“I like to give each home a different theme. The house in Mougins pays tribute to the modern and contemporary masters who spent time in the south of France, including Picasso, Matisse, Van Gogh, Chagall, Picabia, Derain, and others.” *Portrait de jeune fille*, Pablo Picasso, 1944. Picasso and Gilot. Upon entering, one is met by Picasso and his lovers.
On the right hangs Picasso’s 1944 portrait of Françoise Gilot. When they fell in love, Gilot was 21 and Picasso 60. Ten years later, she became the only one of his lovers to leave him of her own accord.
“Gilot herself was also a very accomplished artist. In fact, Picasso may have been influenced more by her, but she lived constantly in his shadow. Even after they broke up, Picasso used his network to blacklist Gilot and destroyed the paintings she had not managed to take with her.” *Autoportrait en manteau*, Dora Maar. Below it stands a first-century statue of a goddess. On the left hangs a self-portrait by Dora Maar.
“The Tate once held a major retrospective of Dora Maar’s photography. It was excellent. But Picasso urged her to abandon photography for painting, and many people believe he simply could not tolerate the idea of his lover being better than he was.” The first-floor bathroom is the most “luxurious” room in the house, displaying paintings by Paul Delvaux and Chagall, as well as a sculpture by Diego Giacometti.
“The last time this sculpture was auctioned, it sold for $500,000—about 3.65 million yuan. I originally kept it on the coffee table in the living room, but at a New Year’s party a few years ago, someone got drunk and used it as an ashtray. I quickly moved it to the bathroom, where it may be safer. If you need a long time in the bathroom, congratulations: you have plenty of good things to look at.” He laughed. *Still Life and Couple Walking: recto/verso*, Vincent Van Gogh, 1890. In the spacious living room, the warmth of a family home becomes more pronounced; photographs of Levett’s children are everywhere.
His collection, meanwhile, is arranged in a series of carefully composed “curatorial corners,” moving among and setting into conversation different eras and media. A preparatory drawing Van Gogh made before his death had just returned from a traveling exhibition at the Musée d’Orsay. Beside it are a first-century Roman statue, an eighteenth-century French dining chair, and a late-eighteenth-century Italian cabinet. *Femme nue endormie*, Kees Van Dongen, 1920 (left); *Nu académique*, André Derain (right). Below a watercolor by the Dutch Fauvist painter Kees Van Dongen and a nude study by Derain is a highly designed antique chair: its legs are spoons, its seat a frying pan, and its back depicts a galaxy.
*Bretonne de trois-quarts à gauche*, Paul Gauguin, 1886. “I like putting my favorite works in the living room. In this house, the one I like most is Gauguin’s drawing. In the upper-right corner, he drew a caricature of himself. We’ll never know why, but when you stand in front of it, you seem to travel back to that moment and be with Gauguin.”
“I like collecting drawings because you can feel the artist’s hand in the lines. Drawings are also relatively affordable. For £20,000 to £30,000—about 180,000 to 280,000 yuan—you can acquire a first-rate drawing by a master.” At the bend of the stairs, the bedroom holds Dalí’s *Flowers and Fruit* and Miró’s *Le lézard aux plumes d’or – Etude*.
As one climbs, the collection’s media become increasingly varied: sculptures by César Baldaccini made from flattened milk and beverage cans; three-dimensional paintings by Arman, a leading figure of Nouveau Réalisme, made with paint and brushes—he once collaborated with Andy Warhol on the film *The Daley Dinner*; late collages by Dalí; Miró’s crayon drawings on xuan paper; and Picasso’s works on ceramic plates. For the past seven years, Levett has devoted himself to collecting postwar and contemporary women artists. His home in Florence displays that part of the collection.
Levett describes himself as “fanatical.” “I started collecting when I was eight, and I can’t stop. As you’ve seen in the house, I’ve always liked collecting things from different fields. Once I become obsessed with a field, I want to do it as well as possible.” Arthur de Villepin at home in Hong Kong. Arthur de Villepin is the son of Dominique de Villepin, the former prime minister of France.
He traveled the world as a child with his diplomat father, living for extended periods in the United States, India, France, and Britain, and meeting such artists as Zao Wou-Ki, Anselm Kiefer, Pierre Soulages, and Kang Myung-hee. At 22, he chose to put down roots in Hong Kong, where he has lived for more than ten years. Arthur de Villepin’s living room. The mountain and sea view from his living room. Photography: Anastasia Grouvel. Arthur de Villepin on the terrace of his home. In March, we visited the home where de Villepin lives alone.
His home is in Hong Kong’s Southern District, a duplex with two sunlit terraces. Nature is visible from almost every angle: water from the living room, mountains from the bedroom.
“I feel particularly ‘Chinese.’ Mountains and water give me a quiet strength.” In 2022, he moved into this house. “My roots are in Europe, but in some sense I’m also Chinese, because I believe in Eastern ways of behaving. I also love the food here. I love the taste of plain white rice so much that I eat it every day. In this city of concrete and steel, I wanted to find a ‘nest’ where I could rest quietly.” The olive tree in Arthur de Villepin’s home. Photography: Anastasia Grouvel. When renovating the house, the first thing he thought of was that he wanted a tree.
He wanted to bring a part of nature indoors. The olive tree is one of de Villepin’s favorite trees. It can live for hundreds of years and represents contemplation and healing; it “makes me slow down,” he told us. Seeing the tree also recalls the happy times he spent with his family in India and Italy, as well as a film called *The Lovers Under the Olive Tree*. The antiques in Arthur de Villepin’s home. Everything in the house unfolds around the tree: an olive-green sofa, a fifteenth-century table, antique chairs from Brazil and France, a Moroccan table lamp, a ceiling light designed by Isamu Noguchi, and contemporary art.
De Villepin said, “I wanted to create an atmosphere at home that could converse with time. For me, being surrounded by elements of nature is the most important thing. A home should remove what is unnecessary and let the necessary speak.” Arthur de Ville Villepin in the dining room. The work on the wall behind him is Marie de Villepin’s *Like Swimming*, 2022. The works in the house all come from artists with whom he has a special connection. Some were once close to him, or even lived with him. “The special relationships and bonds between artists and me are very important.”
In the dining room is a painting by his sister Marie, a birthday gift she gave him. In it, she created an underwater world whose forms resemble coral. As the natural light changes, the coral seems to change color as well. Marie works simultaneously with her fingers, brushstrokes, and a utility knife. Painting with her fingers gives the work a certain force. It is rough and sensual at once. Alfred Wallis, *Two Sailing Boats and a Lugger*. A painting by Alfred Wallis is another work he particularly cherishes.
Alfred Wallis was one of Britain’s earliest modern painters, though he was never a professional artist. He was poor and spent his life fishing. He would collect cardboard and similar materials from the beach, return home, and begin painting boats.
“Looking at these boats always reminds me that art is not necessarily connected with celebrities or capital.” Work on the wall: Kang Myung-hee, *Fleur de choux rouge*, 2020. A painting by Kang Myung-hee almost perfectly merges with the view outside the window behind it. “What we see is a primal forest of mountains and trees, not a perfectly manicured garden.”
“My father has been collecting her work for about 25 years. In her paintings, you seem to see the wildness of nature, without compromise. She doesn’t want you to think it’s beautiful. It is so primal that it is almost confrontational.” Arthur de Villepin and Kang Myung-hee in her studio. “Actually, I didn’t understand her paintings when I was young. I only thought the brushstrokes were scattered everywhere, chaotic. So I took one of her paintings with me when I went to school in Britain, and then to Hong Kong. It took me a long time to realize that what Myung-hee wanted to express in the painting was nature’s disorder. Imperfection is perfection; I was the one who needed to reconcile myself with perfectionism.”
Arthur de Villepin’s antique table and Japanese ceramics. Old objects appear throughout the house. De Villepin likes combining old and new; to him, things that have been used seem almost alive, merging with your house and your life. An old cabinet from Japan was broken when he bought it, so he repaired it. On top sits a work by Zao Wou-Ki, whose lines echo the natural curl of the flowers beside it.
Arthur de Villepin working at home. The desk was designed by the French design duo Guillerme et Chambron, and the chair by Pierre Jeanneret. Photography: Anastasia Grouvel. His everyday work desk is an antique from 1950, designed by Guillerme et Chambron. Its strong lines are remarkably spare, and a single leg supports one side of the desk, an unconventional and engaging solution.
The two terracotta flowers on the desk were gifts from Lucy Carroll, the wife of the late artist Lawrence Carroll. De Villepin treasures the two flowers on his desk; they were given to him by the late artist’s wife.
“It’s like a vessel for memory. It reminds me of my family. I’m a very home-oriented person, which may have something to do with the importance placed on family in Chinese culture. Your family supports and loves you, and that gives you the energy to do more.” The interior of the old church renovated by Tas Careaga (detail). Outdoor terrace facing the forest. Tas Careaga is a designer from Spain. His home is a sixteenth-century church in the center of a forest in a Basque town, secluded and beautiful, reached only by a series of winding paths.
In 2016, Tas happened upon a photograph of the church online. Everything matched his expectations, and after checking its location, he was delighted to discover that it was only a thirty-minute drive from his hometown, Bilbao. Exterior of the sixteenth-century old church in a Basque town. The historical record of the building, he told us, states that it was built in 1530 and reconstructed around 1850, when a bell tower and windows were added. Its overall style is Baroque.
The site covers 900 square meters, and the building measures 249 square meters. The Basque town where the church stands was originally established for mining. It had only 2.5 million residents; after the mine closed, everyone left, and no one returned to the church. The church closed in the late 1970s. Clearing the ruins of the old building. Recalling the first time he saw the church, Tas said, “It was a disaster! It was completely in ruins, full of garbage. The roof had collapsed. Only the bell tower and altar remained, along with walls saturated with damp.”
“But the high ceilings and the surrounding landscape were still magical. I loved the setting; you could see wildlife every day.” On impulse, Tas bought the church, intending to renovate it piece by piece with his own hands. His friends thought he was crazy. After years designing spaces for clients, he had always dreamed of “creating a home of his own, one that was unique.” Tas Careaga and Carlos Garmendi renovating the building. After buying the church, he called his designer friend Carlos Garmendi for advice. “You know what?
“I bought an old church. It’s crazy. I can’t believe it myself.” Tas and Carlos began renovating and restoring the building. Clearing the floor alone took three months, and removing the rubble took several more. Partial comparison before and after the renovation. Tas wanted to preserve as much of the original structure as possible. The church had stood for 500 years, and although it was in terrible condition, he believed the best renovation was one that “retained something.”
He preserved the mottled stone walls, altar, bell tower, and ceiling, then added the facilities required for modern life. In 2019, after three years of work, Tas Careaga finally completed the renovation. “It used up nearly all my savings.” The once-dilapidated church became a residence combining classical and modern elements. The original stone walls remain, joined by a wooden mezzanine, for three levels in all. A partial view of the first-floor living room. The roughly 160-square-meter first floor contains a primary bedroom, dining room, kitchen, and chimney.
The church’s original altar space was converted into an open kitchen. Original stone walls echo the wooden furniture, while floor-to-ceiling glass doors face the forest, filling the room with greenery and light. Bedroom on the second-floor mezzanine. Attic workspace on the third floor. Outdoor terrace. The second floor contains a bedroom with a bathroom; the third is an attic-style workspace. Both are about 40 square meters. Outside are a bathing pool and garden. Some of the furniture is old as well. The marble coffee table came from Tas’s aunt, while other pieces belonged to his great-grandmother. “My great-grandmother made some furniture for her house in Cuba. After she left, it was sent to my grandmother’s house in Bilbao. Now it’s my turn to ‘look after’ it.”
The renovated church retains the structure and walls of its Baroque architecture while incorporating contemporary elements and Tas’s own way of living. Art hangs throughout the house—in the bedrooms, bathroom, and beside the stairs. Skateboard graffiti works hang from the two columns outside the altar. The entire residence resembles a private museum with a highly personal point of view; the historic stone walls have become the canvas for his curatorial vision. To Tas, the walls and the works are inseparable. “The artworks were born for the stone walls, or perhaps the stone walls were born for the artworks. If I ever sell this church, I’ll sell the artworks with it, because this is their home.”
The large black-and-white work at the far left is by the artist Jaureguis. Most of the works in the house come from Tas’s artist friends. He also takes his dog, Tola, to visit friends’ studios. The first time he saw Jaureguis’s work, Tas decided he had to collect it. Once he began renovating the old church, he felt the moment had finally come to own it. He even built a wall specifically for the monumental work.
The kitchen converted from the altar. The blue work at the center is *Jesus*, by the Spanish artist Julian Lorenzos. In the altar-turned-kitchen, portraits of various sizes line the wall. Art, life, and time meet here. The blue portrait at the center, *Jesus*, is by the Spanish artist Julian Lorenzos, a close friend of Tas Careaga and, like him, a skateboard enthusiast.
In 2015, the artist made the work in Tas’s hometown of Bilbao. At first, he intended to paint a woman’s portrait. “As I painted, Jesus gradually appeared.” That is how Lorenzos described the work. In 2016, after Tas decided to renovate the old church, he gave the work to him. Tas Careaga creating on the terrace. Tas occasionally makes work of his own; the abstract painting beside the stairs is his. He jokes, “My work may be the worst in this house, but it is part of me.
“For now, Tas Careaga lives with his wife in the church house at the center of the forest. His daily life is simple: work, do-it-yourself projects, skateboarding, and occasional meals with friends. He is a “restless” inhabitant and moves often. Even though he has lived in the church for only five years, he has already begun building another house, this one beside a lake in Bilbao, his hometown. “I try to move about once every five years.
“I love the process of renovating a house, watching it evolve little by little. Once it’s finished, I start thinking about renovating the next one!” Tas Careaga said. “But in my heart, Bilbao is my true home. I’m always thinking about returning here. It matters to me because my family and childhood are here.” Asked what home means to him, Tas Careaga said, “Home is where the people I love are.”