Many years ago, I read an art review in Politiken about a young lady, Hanne Larsen, who held an exhibition of her artwork at Børge Birch's on Bredgade. It was written by Walther Schwartz. Hanne Larsen was 29 years old. Her mother, who herself was a painter, collected some of her daugther's paintings for a small exhibition hoping that her retarded Hanne could earn income with which to buy art supplies to further her work. The entire review was warmely positive. Here was an exhibition which sends a message from a human being.
As soon as I read it, I headed for Bredgade , struggeled up to, I belive, the fifth floor, where Børge Birch had his gallery. And, up here, in the old Phønix Hotel, I had two marvelous experiences: Hanne Larsen's exhibition and Børge Birch. I bought this painting and became completely spellbound by the owner of the gallery. I was given the option of a favourable payment plan and, what is more, I got the enjoyment of art injected into the future years by the fine arts wizardry of Børge Birch. Here began both my friendship with him and my pleasure, joy and delight with fine art. He later told me that I was the only one who bought anything at the exhibition, unfortunately, but for me it was a greatly enriching experience on all fronts.
Thank you Børge!
Yours,
Ove Sprogø
