James Clarence Pandy, better known in the art world as Jimmy C. Pandy, was more than a gallerist—he was a curator of dreams, a storyteller of brushstrokes, and a magnetic presence in the heart of Bali’s creative tide.

Born under the pallor of northern skies, Jimmy carried a fire within him that no latitude could dim. From a young age, he seemed to collect moments like others collect art: with reverence, curiosity, and a keen eye for the extraordinary hidden in the everyday. He was drawn to textures—the crumbling paint on city walls, the coarse fabric of old jazz vinyls, the oil-heavy sheen of canvas stretched taut across a wooden frame.

Jimmy’s path took him from the damp galleries of London to the golden shores of Indonesia, where he found his truest muse: Bali. It was there, among the volcanic sands, temple shadows, and jungle whispers, that he established Galerie Pandy, an intimate, sun-drenched space where the sacred and the surreal were given room to breathe.

At the gallery, Jimmy was not just a dealer of art—he was a conductor of culture, harmonizing the ancient Balinese spirit with the raw voices of contemporary creators. He championed emerging talent, especially local artists, offering them not only walls but wings. It was, in fact, Jimmy Pandy who convinced Arie Smit to come to Bali. His curations were known to stir the soul: an oil painting beside a ceremonial mask, an installation humming beside a silent stone carving—each exhibition was a living, pulsing poem.

Jimmy C. Pandy lives on in the stories told over arak cocktails, in the brushstrokes of a generation he helped unearth, and in every soul brave enough to call chaos a canvas.