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FINDERS KEEPERS | MASTERS & MUSES | WORLD OF CABANA
In this series, we ask antique dealers and collectors to share the stories of two special objects that have passed through their hands: their greatest find and the piece they'll keep forever. This week, furniture and lighting maker Matthew Cox, who runs his eponymous business with his wife, Camilla McLean, shares the stories of the salvaged brass handrail that launched his studio, and the £20 terracotta lion that has never left his side.
INTERVIEW BY CAMILLA FRANCES | MASTERS & MUSES | 1 OCTOBER 2026
Early 19th-century terracotta Dog of Alcibiades
My Greatest Find
I once bought a large, shiny, gloss-white dog that, under the paint, turned out to be an early 19th-century terracotta Dog of Alcibiades, perhaps my greatest discovery. And at a small antiques fair, before it was light and in the eye of a storm (the tornado made the news), I found four wonderful 17th-century putti and a large pair of Coalbrookdale serpents, perhaps the greatest odds against me! But of all my finds, my greatest is the inspiration behind one of the first designs that helped Camilla and me start the business that exists today.
Truth be told, I didn’t find it; it was run to me from Adam at Retrouvius by Howard of Society Antiques, and if I’m going to be even more honest, it was Howard who said, ‘You could make some lights out of that’. ‘That’ was two long lengths of high-quality brass handrail: English, probably 1890s. And Howard was right, the hollow, tubular handrail, beautifully patinated after 100 years of city life (Adam later told me he’d salvaged it from a London office), was wide enough to take a bulb, and the brass mounts were so elegantly designed that they would work perfectly as wall brackets. So, after cutting the rail into sections and finding a way to mount bulb holders inside the tube, we had our first ‘vesper’ wall lights. Ten of them.
They were so striking and sold so quickly that we took casts from the original components and began making our own. The light’s success has, to a degree, enabled us to quickly develop and grow a studio and workshop team who are confidently creating work every bit as considered as the original handrail, ensuring a continuity of excellence in craft, and work that will still be here and relevant in at least another 100 years. With any hope, we’ll inspire a best-selling design of the 22nd century.
Late 19th-century terracotta lion
Vesper wall light
English brass handrail, c. 1890s
Wren-style 17th-century putti
Mount made by Chris Cox
The Piece I'll Keep Forever
When I first saw this piece, it was lying on the ground looking very sorry for itself. It was the broken head of a late 19th-century terracotta lion, probably a recumbent lion and originally one of a pair. There wasn’t much left of them. This was around 20 years ago and I was viewing a quarterly architectural salvage auction, TW Gaze of Norfolk, held on a Saturday morning – they were great sales. I usually found a handful of pieces worth returning to bid on, but that day I didn’t find anything else I was interested in, so I left, and promptly forgot about the lion.
At some point during the following week, I thought ‘the lion!’, and called TW Gaze to see if it had sold. It hadn’t, and it was mine if I was prepared to pay the reserve of…£20. Yes please. I didn’t rush to collect, but when I did, I really liked him. He had a classical face, and the well-modelled terracotta was beautifully patinated. So I asked my brother [Christopher Cox], who had just set up a workshop in his garden shed, if he would make a mount for him, which he did: a beautifully simple steel mount that he colored to look like bronze. Squint, and he was a beautiful, ancient artefact.
Since then, he’s stayed with me, a companion who joined me in my adventurous early days in the trade, which now feel very special, and who’s been witness to all that’s happened since. He remains a stoic reminder that you never know what’s around the corner, and not to give up hope, even if you think you may have missed your chance. I love that he looks a million dollars but is worth next to nothing, and I love that he hangs on a mount made by my brother, Chris, when he was just setting out on his own exciting journey.
Late 19th-century terracotta lion
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