Idris Khan & Charlie Mortimer: 'I've got all sorts of health issues and Idris is a hypochondriac'

The art collector and the artist met at the Victoria Miro gallery in London

Khan (left) says of Mortimer: 'I'm far more serious than he is and I wish I could approach life the way he does' (Anna Huix)

Charlie Mortimer, 63

An art collector and author, Mortimer (right in picture) is the son of Roger Mortimer, the late author and racing correspondent. His book of correspondence from his father, 'Dear Lupin: Letters to a Wayward Son', became a bestseller in 2012. He lives in west London with his partner, fellow art collector Tim Parlington

Two years ago, I was going for lunch with my partner, Tim, and the director of the Victoria Miro gallery, who we found putting the final touches to an exhibition featuring an artist we'd never heard of. It consisted of very dark paintings, each more than 2m in size, with hundreds of sentences stamped densely over them. I said, "Blimey what did he do, live in the nut house?" I didn't know it, but the artist, Idris, was standing a foot behind me.

Luckily he was amused and not offended, and we went to a pub for lunch. I thought his work was fantastic, and when I got back home I got in touch again and acquired one.

Idris is a lovely guy with no ego. Tim and I both adore him and his wife, Annie, who is an accomplished artist in her own right.

I've got all sorts of health issues: I was one of the first people to get Aids and I have epilepsy and depression. But though I lead a narrower life than normal, I can still have a lot of fun: art is one way, and hanging out with Idris and Annie is another. We talk about health in the way people in a golf club talk golf, as both Annie and Idris are hypochondriacs.

While he is as sophisticated as I am philistine, Idris and I have a mutual passion for public access to art: I can't see the point of owning something great without sharing it, and Idris loves his work being shown in public. Tim and I try to buy art, such as Idris's, and then lend it to public galleries.

Given how fast he's rising in the art world, he's a modest guy. But he is conscious about his appearance. It amused me when we did a photoshoot; by the time he was ready, he had gone through three T-shirts and four jumpers – and was putting on these astonishing poses. I thought, 'I'm meant to be the homosexual!'

I wouldn't say I'm thick, but it worries me if Idris asks me my opinion of his pieces, as I'd rather not make an idiot of myself. I say, "Ask me after I've had a few drinks." If it wasn't for drink, I'd never have any art: I wouldn't take that risk without being mildly inebriated.

He sort of reminds me of my dad, who had a very decent, gentle energy, too, and an extraordinary dedication.

Idris told me that when his mother died, it had a terrible effect on him. We cope with grief very differently. I deal with it in a humorous way, while Idris expresses it in his work.

I love that Idris's background and religion are different to mine, as it makes friendship more entertaining. I hated being in a privileged school and I've spent my life reinventing myself as a yob, for want of a better word. We haven't known one another for that long, considering how close we are. As I'm at an age where I don't make new friends that often, I'm delighted to have done so.

Idris Khan, 36

A visual artist, Khan uses large-scale digital collages of photographs to explore concepts of compressed memories. His pieces have been exhibited in the British Museum and at the Guggenheim in New York. He lives in north London with his wife, the artist Annie Morris, and their two children

Charlie and his partner, Tim, are art collectors, and they visited my show at the Victoria Miro gallery in 2013, before the official opening. Apparently they really liked these black paintings I'd done and wanted to buy them.

The gallery set up a get-together for us, on a narrowboat pub in Islington. When you meet collectors, you never know what to expect; some can be quite serious. We bonded over our co-dependency with our partners – I'm with my wife almost 24/7, and they are with one another all the time, too.

A few months later Annie and I were invited over to theirs for dinner and had Charlie's famous stew – it's one of the only things he can cook. He has the most incredible way with words and such great wit and stories.

Charlie has this incredible memory about his mother and father. I lost my mother five years ago and while some people deal with their grief by harbouring it inside, as I did, Charlie talks of his memories of his parents in an amusing way that reminds me of that line from a Woody Allen film, about tragedy plus time equalling humour, and I find that inspiring. I'm far more serious than he is and I wish I could approach life the way he does.

We also bonded over ailments – Annie is a hypochondriac, while Charlie's had his share of problems to deal with. He has the best medical address book in the world. I'm always calling him up when something is wrong; he'll say, "Yes, I know a great back person…"

Charlie definitely knows how to drink – I do, too, but as he's an alcoholic, he now can't drink till at least 6pm. When we travel together he carries his own red wine around, as well as ice and sparkling water; it's wonderfully eccentric.

We went to the Whitworth Art Gallery in Manchester to see an exhibition of works he and Tim have bought. I love how they want their collection to be viewed by the public: they're actually donating it to the museum.

We grew up so differently. I was a young British Muslim going to a state scool in Walsall. At home there was no art or culture: just religion and sport. He was a rebel who got booted out of Eton, and in the 1960s was an antiques trader, going to parties with the rich and famous. But arts allows you to mix with all different classes and backgrounds, and Charlie and I have become close friends.

Idris Khan's new exhibition, Conflicting Lines, is at the Victoria Miro gallery, London W1 (victoria-miro.com), until 6 June