B-R & H Finance ● The 4 Seasons

Mi-June 2026

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Today I’ll be wandering through the aisles of Art Basel 2026 with my wife. The buzz of the preview will be behind us; we’ll be able to take our time, to look, to take things in. For me it’s a return after several years of absence, and I’m impatient to get started. I hope I’ve gained some distance; I hope I’ll be able to separate the wheat from the chaff. But deep down I already know I’m going to be manipulated: by those artists who suddenly pop up on several blue‑chip stands at once, by the storytelling, by the hanging, by the forced juxtapositions between yesterday’s blue‑chips and today’s rising stars.

This newsletter was prepared using the following sources:

Table of Contents

B-R & H Finance / Purely indicative

B-R & H Finance / Purely indicative

B-R & H Finance / Purely indicative

Market Review

Markets are anything but restful

June has opened on an unusual score: European equity indices are leading, large-cap American technology names are treading water, precious metals are retreating, and a single initial public offering has, within days, redrawn the familiar scale of Wall Street.

The FTSE MIB leads all major indices month-to-date at +4.8%, followed by Spain's IBEX35 at +4.4%; the Euro Stoxx50 and CAC40 add 3.4% and 3.2% respectively. Over the same period the S&P500, Nasdaq100 and DAX are each down around half a percent to 0.8%, while the Dow Jones holds firm at +2.1%. The source of this apparent paradox is the American economy's own resilience. On 5 June, May payrolls printed at 172'000, roughly double the 85'000 consensus, and triggered a sharp correction: the Nasdaq shed 4.18% in a single session, its worst day since April 2025. A number that was "too good" became bad news. The prospect of higher rates resurfaced, long yields backed up, and high-duration technology names were the first to be repriced. The semiconductor sector, the engine of the rally for two years, dropped sharply, dragging down AI-heavy funds in its wake.

In Switzerland, the SMI's +1.6% month-to-date confirms its role as a quality haven: within the Swiss stock ranking, Belimo (+16.92%), VAT Group (+11.80%) and Givaudan (+8.64%) illustrate the resilience of precision industrials against global sector rotations. At the bottom of the table, Partners Group (-13.54%) pays the price of rising long rates. Globally, the month's winners are unsurprisingly in semiconductors and equipment (Marvell +36.55%, Tokyo Electron +35.44%, KLA Corporation +33.02%), while Super Micro Computer falls 26.25% following a dilutive Usd 7 billion equity offering. On currencies, the dollar strengthens 1.1% against the Swiss franc (USD/CHF at 0.7926) and 0.7% against the yen. Gold pulls back 4.8% to Usd 4'343.5 per ounce — far from its January record of Usd 5'589 and silver drops 7.7%. Brent corrects 13.1% to Usd 75.88, as hopes of a US-Iran deal weigh on prices. Bitcoin (-10.6% to Usd 65'916) and Ethereum (-11.7%) consolidate in line with the more demanding risk premium now required by markets.

The month's structural event is elsewhere entirely. On 12 June, SpaceX began trading on the Nasdaq under the ticker SPCX, priced at Usd 135 per share, opening at Usd 150 and closing at Usd 160.95, a 19% gain on day one. The company raised Usd 75 billion: nearly three times the previous global record held by Saudi Aramco in 2019 (Usd 25.6 billion), for an initial market value of Usd 1.77 trillion, carried to Usd 2.2 trillion by the close. With IPOs of this magnitude, Silicon Valley is minting billionaires at an industrial pace. Saint-Tropez, Porto Cervo, Mykonos ; the great hubs of the international jet-set are filling up fast, and the old crowd is quietly finding the price tags harder and harder to keep up with.

For the long-term investor, the question this month raises is less about daily fluctuations than about a deeper recentring: markets are rewarding companies capable of redefining entire industries ; whether in orbital access or AI infrastructure, while traditional "real" assets, from gold to oil, pause to catch their breath. Prudence is not the absence of ambition; it is knowing how to tell gravity from noise.

Few numbers

  • 59.6 billion dollars: total global sales of art and antiques in 2025, up 4% after two years of decline, but still 9% below the 2022 peak.

  • 30% increase in auction sales of lots above 10 million dollars in 2025, driving the rebound at the very top end while mid‑market segments remain more hesitant.

  • 35%: the share of dealers’ sales taking place at art fairs in 2025, versus 31% in 2024, while online‑only sales slip back to 15% of the market, far from the 25% peak in 2020.

Editorial

Consciously manipulated

We never “see” art history as it is being written; at best, we recognise certain markers that raise the probability that a work will find its place in it.

What it means to “have an eye”

Having an eye is not about spotting the next Picasso at a fair; it is about sensing what, in a work, might still stand once the noise has receded. The eye is never pure: it is fed by art history, by exhibitions seen, by thousands of images digested and stored as an inner memory against which every new canvas comes to rub.

Some signatures serve as milestones. Dürer, for instance, is the logo‑line ahead of its time: printmaking in multiples, series, a repeated motif that becomes instantly recognisable, even reproduced tiny in a dog‑eared handbook. Caravaggio is skin, darkness, the knife; a Machiavelli of the brush (Machiavelli dies in 1527, Caravaggio is born in 1571) who paints sacred stories like crime reports, with tavern light standing in for Gospel. Mondrian, for his part, pushes abstraction to the level of grammar: lines, flat planes, three primary colours, and yet enough tension that, a century later, those rectangles survive their proliferation on cushions, mugs and living‑room walls.

Markers of a future “great”

Certain constants recur when you try to pick out what stands a chance of being remembered. First, a strong artistic identity: a coherent, recognisable visual language that is more than a graphic gimmick repeated to exhaustion. Next, a clear response to its own time: the work is not floating in mid‑air, it is anchored in political, social, technological or existential tensions. Finally, an ability to hold its own: if you place the piece in an imaginary room, between its predecessors and its peers, it does not vanish; it enters into dialogue. At that stage, we are not talking about price yet, but about density: does the work still have something to say once you strip away the frame, the press release and the rumour of the moment?

The market, for its part, loves to muddy the waters. It adores crypto‑flavoured paintings, pseudo‑activism that is perfectly harmless yet surfs on a topical theme without ever really engaging with it. At fairs you see a flood of lots come past, with very few years of hindsight, and always this promise of a “new Basquiat” every six months, as if the street could be industrialised on subscription (see Banksy).

History starts to do the housekeeping

A painter like Balthus, long presented as essential, now finds himself overtaken by his subject: those half‑asleep, half‑offered adolescent girls, with Thérèse Dreaming at the Met a textbook case in the #MeToo era. Petitions to take the picture down, debates about the “romanticising of voyeurism”, directors caught between defending artistic freedom and political caution: Balthus’s place on the walls, and in the books, is no longer obvious. Art history is not just adding women, non‑Western artists or marginal practices; it is also erasing some names, or relegating them to a critical zone where admiration has become suspect.

Between those museum‑temple pillars stands a whole crowd of “next in line”: Soulages and his black‑light, Baselitz and his upside‑down figures, Barceló with his bulls and matter, Joan Mitchell, the Chapman brothers and many others who have had their years of grace, their champions, their mid‑cycle records. Some will remain as landmarks, others as symptoms of an era. The eye, here, does not predict; it records this uncertainty, it accepts that the 2050 catalogue will not look like the one from 2000.

The death of Bruno Bischofberger

In Zurich, the recent passing of Bruno Bischofberger gives this turning point a face. For decades, he held the threads between Europe and the United States, backing Basquiat when he left Annina Nosei, pushing Francesco Clemente and George Condo, supporting Julian Schnabel and even staging the Warhol–Basquiat–Clemente collaborations like a rock supergroup. The film Basquiat, Schnabel’s first feature, now looks like a time capsule: the hero has already entered legend, the director belongs to that generation of artists whose place in history is still undecided, and around them swarm all those names the market once took very seriously, for a while, with no guarantee of eternity.

Meanwhile, in New York and London, the very top of the market keeps piling up records. In May 2026, a Pollock climbed to 181.2 million dollars at Christie’s, joining the club of 100‑million‑plus paintings, alongside a Rothko and a Mondrian that also sold at historic levels. The Art Basel & UBS report notes that public sales above 10 million rose by around 30% in 2025.

Behind the scenes, the infrastructure is reshaping itself like any other sector: an Abu Dhabi sovereign fund has taken a roughly one‑billion‑dollar stake in Sotheby’s, platforms Artnet and Artsy have ended up under the same roof after Beowolff Capital’s manoeuvres, and the “after Gagosian” question is feeding dinner‑table conversations as much as financial columns. The art market likes to tell itself as a world of lightning‑bolt encounters; up close, it also runs on term sheets, data rooms and board meetings.

In the end, the only question that really matters for the honest stroller is not which artist will be up 30% next cycle, but how to look straight in the middle of all this noise. For a moment, we can forget Pollock’s records, the Balthus under fire, the Soulages in limbo, the mythologised Basquiats, the dealers quietly exiting stage left. What remains is a very simple test: what is left once you remove the price, the trend, the scandal, the hashtag (do hashtags still exist?)? If, once outside, the image comes back uninvited and refuses to leave the corner of your mind, then perhaps it has already earned, at least for us, its line at the bottom of the page.

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Wealth

Two canvases, two fates: how the market makes (and unmakes) artists

At Art Basel, two canvases can face each other and have almost nothing in common, even though they are offered in the same price range. One is backed by a gallery that has been advancing its pieces for fifteen years, placing works in the right collections, organising the right loans, nurturing the right story; the other may look just as beautiful, but arrives more alone on the wall, with fewer advocates, less depth, fewer guarantees for what comes after. That is where the real wealth question begins: not only what we love, but what will manage to hold its own over time.

The art market prefers to tell the story of taste. It is often more honest to look at it as an economic theatre where beauty matters, of course, but where duration is built by very concrete hands: dealer, gallery, curator, anchor collector, institution, and one day an estate or foundation. A great artist does not become great alone; they become legible, visible and defendable thanks to a small number of actors who patiently align their interests.

The wealthy collector rarely operates at the absolute top of the market. He more often buys in that broad zone between Usd 250'000 and a few million, where prices can still rise sharply, correct brutally or freeze for lack of support. It is the soft underbelly of prestige: too expensive to be a pure whim, not canonical enough to be untouchable. In that zone, nobody is buying just an image; you are also buying the probability that your choice will be validated later.

On this stage, the awkward word is the right one: dealer. An art dealer is not trying to make the world fairer; he is trying to ensure that his artists and his clients are not the losers in the game. He filters, keeps some works back, pushes others, chooses buyers who will hold, negotiates loans with museums, sometimes blocks a public sale deemed dangerous for the artist’s prices. From the outside, it looks like clan behaviour; from the inside, it is risk management.

Louise Bourgeois or Joan Mitchell are good examples of this slow groundwork. For a long time, they were not in the pantheon of the “ten names” everyone reels off automatically. Then the major galleries and estates patiently spun their web: museum‑level shows, major catalogues, placements in leading public and private collections, regular inclusion in hangings on twentieth‑century art and on the place of women in the canon. Through sheer repetition, their work crossed a threshold: they are no longer just “highly sought after”, they have become positions that are actively defended, on a par with certain male artists who were long over‑represented.

This is where the Lindy effect becomes a discreet but useful tool for collectors. In a market where ultra‑contemporary art has shown its volatility, recent data underline that growth is once again concentrating on signatures that have already survived several cycles of euphoria and correction. An artist who sustains twenty, thirty, forty years of serious visibility – exhibitions, writing, a reasonably liquid secondary market – is mathematically more likely to endure than one who burns bright for three seasons. Faced with two works at the same price at Art Basel, the right question is not only “which is the most beautiful?”, but “which has already had time to prove it can outlive its first collectors?”.

What separates two canvases hanging opposite each other is therefore not just their visual quality. It is the invisible architecture holding them up. The major galleries have professionalised this strategic lead. Hauser & Wirth, for example, has made the representation of artists and estates a central part of its identity, with work that goes far beyond commercial display: publications, museum‑level exhibitions, archives, an international footprint, constant bridges between Zurich, Basel, London, New York and institutions. This model reveals a not very romantic truth: over the long term, an artist’s market value depends less on the flash of a vernissage than on the discipline of an organisation.

Even the latest data on the market point in the same direction. The Art Basel & UBS reports describe a more selective market, with greater pressure on the middle segment and a refocus on the most established names. Ultra‑contemporary art, which powered much of the post‑Covid euphoria, no longer offers the same assurances; many artists there are hitting a glass ceiling.

For a reader who thinks in terms of wealth, the key markers become clear. Who is the reference gallery? Where have the works been shown, not just sold? Which serious collectors have bought and lent them? Is there an archive, an estate, capable of carrying the story forward once the artist is gone? Art remains a matter of taste and desire; but beyond a certain price point, it is also a matter of positions, coalitions and time horizons. When two canvases look similar in apparent prestige, the real question is not which one shines brightest tonight. It is which one will still have someone to speak for it in ten years’ time.

Don’t pay attention to what they write about you. Just measure it in inches.

Andy Warhol

B-R & H Finance

Founded in 2004, B-R & H Finance SA is a Swiss entity specialized in wealth management. We offer a full range of personalized and independent investment services and advisory solutions. Regulated by SO-Fit and authorized by FINMA, we are also members of the ASG (Swiss Association of Independent Asset Managers) and work with leading custodian banks.

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