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Wellington art dealer Peter McLeavey is no longer with us, but his legend lives on. Indeed, it grows stronger. Facebook is creaking with tributes, with everyone claiming a connection. McLeavey was a brilliant gallerist, a consummate salesman, a storyteller. It’s hard to imagine New Zealand art without him. In Wellington in the late 1960s and 1970s, he pioneered art dealing—at least, his brand of it. He was influential. Those who followed, especially in Wellington, had to contend with his example, his preeminence.

He had his shtick. Although visitors to his gallery had met him countless times before, McLeavey would sometimes pretend they were strangers. He’d greet them with an odd mix of humility and presumption. He’d say, ‘Hello, my name is Peter McLeavey. I show modern art. I know what the old people think of my gallery. But tell me, what about the young people in the discotheques—what do they think of my gallery?’ When Hamish McKay opened his gallery in Wellington in the early 1990s, he put his own spin on McLeavey’s routine. When people visited his gallery—the young people’s gallery—McKay would say, ‘Hello, my name is Hamish McKay. I show contemporary art. I know what the young people think of my gallery. But tell me, what about the old people on their heart-lung machines—what do they think of my gallery?’

Imitation is the sincerest form of flattery. And, with McLeavey, there was much to imitate. His departure creates a vacuum.