Tag Archives: old masters

The Nude

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For the next in my series of articles on what inspires artist to paint, I have chosen The Nude. This is such a vast subject, that I intend to look at Western Art, exploring only paintings from the Renaissance to the present day. Of course sculpture has a very important part to play in the history of The Nude, but for the most part, I am going to ignore it for brevity’s sake.

Sir Kenneth Clark, as he was then, in his brilliant book “The Nude”, (published by John Murray 1956), begins chapter one thus:

“The English language, with its elaborate generosity, distinguished between the naked and the nude. Naked is to be deprived of our clothes and the word implies some of the embarrassment which most of us feel in that condition. The word nude, carries, in educated usage, no uncomfortable overtone. The vague image it projects into the mind is not of a huddled and defenceless body, but of a balanced, prosperous and confident body: the body re-formed.”

Since classical antiquity, the human body has been central to art. We are mostly familiar with sculpture, as so little painting has survived. During the Renaissance, excavations of ancient sites in Rome, Naples and elsewhere unearthed a vast treasure trove of naked gods and goddesses.

These antiquities invited scholars, collectors and artists alike to embrace a classical notion of ideal beauty and Diana, Venus, Danae, Sea Nymphs and various other creations of Greek and Roman mythology became a rich seam for admirers of the nude to mine. Gods and goddesses seldom wore clothes!

The Bible, too has a store of subjects involving the nude from Adam and Eve in the garden of Eden to Lot and his daughters and Bathsheba.

The obvious potential for eroticism, was reduced by certain conventions in depicting the nude. The bodies, although adult, were hairless and had the look of polished marble rather than flesh – the look of a classical statue, as opposed to a “page 3” girl. This anodyne look, with a few subtle variations, lasted until the mid-19th Century.

There was a convention that allowed little boys to be painted completely naked and they are, frequently, as Cupid and Putti (winged cherubs). Little girls, however, have their lower abdomens covered by draperies. Sometimes adult females are draped too but the folds in the draperies often merely accentuate what is hidden.

The 17th Century ushers in a new aesthetic in Western painting. The dramatic light and shade of Caravaggio’s art in Italy found its way to the North of Europe, via Utrecht artists who worked in Rome. Rembrandt was one who embraced this new realism. When he painted his mistress, Hendrikje Stoffels, as “Bathsheba at Her Bath”, she is very much a woman of flesh and blood. Rembrandt records her rather large feet and hands and slightly tubby torso. He also includes the lump in her left breast, which may have been the cause of her death, aged 39, but her death may have been caused by the Plague, which killed thousands in Amsterdam in 1663. In any event, she is nothing like the classical ideal nude of a century earlier.

With the painting of François Boucher in 18th Century Paris, we return to a notion of ideal beauty. Against a background of political and social turmoil, Boucher depicts a world where elegant and beautiful gods and goddesses float and frolic blissfully.

In the 19th Century painters had a new and potentially devastating invention to contend with, photography. What could a painter do, that a photograph could not? The answer is, interpret the object in front of it, rather than merely record it, which is why, nearly 200 years after the invention of photography we still have war artists.

Édouard Manet’s “Olympia”, exhibited at The Paris Salon in 1865, is partly a return to the ideal, with Olympia’s marmoreal body, but it is also a snapshot of the moment her maid arrives with a bunch of flowers.

In England, three decades after Olympia, John William Godward is painting Campaspe as a living sculpture. She is not as pale as Olympia, but she is definitely statuesque and conventional, to conform with Victorian sensibilities. It is worth remembering that some Victorians draped the legs of their pianos, as legs were suggestive – of what I wonder? Furthermore, librarians separated books by male and female authors, lest they jostle against one another on the bookshelves – I think I know what they are getting at, the possibility of two books turning into a library.

Now we come to the 20th Century, when, as we all know, the rule book is thrown out of the window. There is no norm. Whilst Amadeo Modigliani, is painting an ideal nude, inspired by Italian Renaissance painting, Picasso is producing Cubist nudes in strokes of muted grey and Egon Schiele is producing sexually explicit nudes, which still have the power to shock profoundly and are the subject of censorship in many parts of the world. I’m not going to illustrate one!

Surrealism, of course, has its own take on the nude and Rene Magritte’s “Attempting the Impossible” of 1928 has the artist wearing a brown suit painting a living female nude model in 3-D, standing in the same space that he occupies. It is a witty take on Art imitating Art. The model is little more than a painted statue.

No Study of The Nude is complete without an in depth look at the work of Lucian Freud, a man obsessed with the nude, although he hated the word. In his maturity, he possessed a technique which uses thick impasto (paint) with light scumbles (like light washes) over the top to create a sense of the colour and texture of living flesh. Freud’s sitters are as far removed from the ideal as it is possible to be. The men often appear vulnerable and awkward, as do many of his women.

Sue Tilley, the model for one of his most famous nude portraits, “Benefits Supervisor Sleeping”, became a muse for him in the 1990s. The painting of her asleep on a sofa in Freud’s studio is a masterpiece of observation, empathy and reportage. She is seen from above, lying on his sofa, and the sense of her volume and the space she occupies is breathtaking. She sold at Christie’s for $33.6M, which, at the time, was the world record for a living artist.

The Nude has provoked much thought and inspired the spilling of litres of ink over the centuries. The Guerilla Girls, a group of anonymous American female artists produced a poster of Ingres’ “Grande Odalisque”, a white-skinned female nude seen from behind, with a gorilla’s head and in bold type posed the question: “Do women have to be naked to get into the Met. Museum?” It went on to say “Less than 5% of the artists in the Modern Art Sections are women, but 85% of the nudes are female”.

Through all the convulsions and twists that art has taken from the Renaissance, through Abstraction to the modern day, it is interesting to reflect that Life Classes, drawing the human body using a live model, still go on in every corner of the globe. There are three within a five mile radius of where I live ! To be able to draw the human form is clearly the starting point of all art.

World record prices at auction for the artists mentioned:

Lucas Cranach £9.43M
Cavaliere d’Arpino £325,000
Rembrandt van Rijn £20.2M
François Boucher $2.4M
Édouard Manet $65.126M
John William Godward £1.3M
Amadeo Modigliani $170M
Pablo Picasso $179M
Rene Magritte £59.4M
Lucian Freud $86.2M

New York Leads the Way in Old Masters

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The recent Old Master Sales in New York, at the end of January, were in marked contrast to the December results in London. For a start, there were many more sales, three of them single owner catalogues, but then there are probably more serious collectors of Old Masters in the New York and Boston areas, than the rest of the world put together!

The combined sales of Christie’s and Sotheby’s totalled $171.5M (£139.4M), beating the previous New York record of $133M (£97.1M), achieved in 2021 and dwarfing the £51.05M for London in December.

Apart from the huge number of good collections and collectors in the Eastern Seaboard of the USA, a minor contributing factor to the success of that arena, is that New York is the favoured destination for UK dealers to place their “sleepers” (discoveries), which, like all paintings, will forfeit 20% of their gross profit if sold in the UK. The USA is treated as an export sale and, therefore, is exempt for dealers operating under “The Special Scheme” for art and antiques.

I have chosen three pictures from these sales to illustrate, because they are the three I would most like to take home, perhaps in my next life.

The continued strengthening of prices for Old Masters means that anyone who owns one should consider having it revalued.

A review of the December Old Master Sales in London

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December is an exciting month, not just because Christmas is coming, it is also the last hurrah for the Old Master Painting season in London. Sotheby’s had the better pictures and therefore, the better of the results. Their Day Sale (lesser fry) at a total of £3.34M was roughly three times the value of Christie’s at £1.185M. Furthermore, Christie’s had a large total of lots unsold on the day, 40 out of 104 lots.

The Evening Sale (the top lots) followed a similar pattern with Sotheby’s sale to talling £32.72M, with Christie’s coming in at a more modest £13.14M. In fact, Sotheby’s top lot, Titian’s ‘Venus and Adonis’, at £11.1M made almost as much, on its own, as Christie’s whole sale.

They had a beautiful still life by the Haarlem painter Floris van Dijck, very similar in composition to the painting in the Rijksmuseum and one of my favourite pictures in that collection. This made £2.09M against a pre-sale estimate of £600,000-£800,000.

Also estimated at £600,000 – £800,000 was a dramatic seascape by Ivan Konstantinov Aivazovsky titled ‘The Wrath of the Seas’. I was particularly interested to see what happened to this painting, by a 19th Century Russian artist, bearing in mind what is going on in Ukraine. On the day it made a very healthy £1.729M, proving that Aivazovsky has an international reputation and is not just for local consumption!

During the view at Christie’s, I was intrigued to speculate what would happen to two portraits, in particular. The first was a portrait of Erasmus by Hans Holbein the Younger, court painter to Henry VIII and the second was, to my mind, a very beautiful portrait of Henrietta Maria, by Sir Anthony van Dyck, court painter to Charles I.

In the event, they both disappointed with the Holbein making £1.12M against an estimate of £1-1.5M and the Van Dyck limping away at £2.44M against an estimate of £2-4M. The highest price was £2.92M (estimate £2-3M) for ‘Reading Party’ by the French Rococo artist Jean Francois de Troy.

These sales told us nothing new about taste for Old Masters, but they did reinforce what I said in July and that is that there is keen interest in paintings by good hands, fresh to the market and in good state. Selling lesser things, which have been seen before, is a struggle.

Winslow Homer

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I went to the Winslow Homer exhibition at the National Gallery last week and strongly recommend it to you. It is the first time his work has been shown en masse in the UK and there are no paintings by him in British Public Collections, despite his being a household name in the USA.

He started life painting scenes from the American Civil War and much of his work describes conflict, racial tensions, and other social problems. He also had a real obsession with the sea and spent nearly two years on the Northumbrian coast at Cullercoats, observing and recording the activities of the local fishing community and its struggle with the sea. For Homer, the sea was a source of pleasure, livelihood and terror depending on its mood. He painted numerous scenes of people being rescued from the tempestuous ocean.

I was very struck by a painting executed in 1904, which shows three men wearing sowesters and waterproofs in a rowing boat where the swell is so immense you can’t see the boat , and its title is ‘Kissing the Moon’. It reminded me of a passage in Joseph Conrad’s novella ‘Typhoon,’ where the waves are so great the characters in the boat see the moon disappear below the horizon and when it returns to view, appears to be dripping water. I wondered if this book could have had an influence on Winslow, so I googled it! Conrad began the novel in 1899 and it was subsequently serialized in Pall Mall Magazine between January and March 1902. It was first published in book form by Putnam in New York in 1902, two years before Winslow Homer painted the picture. I think I have answered my own question.

Winslow Homers don’t come up for auction very often, only 68 in the last 35 years. The world record for him (at auction ) was achieved in November 2014, by Sotheby’s in New York, when Mrs Paul Mellon’s ‘Watching the tide go out’, a tiny canvas, just over 12 x 16 in , made $4.5m.

The Light of the World

The last version of the Light of the World by William Holman Hunt o.m. (1827-1910)

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This famous painting, ‘The last version of the Light of the World’, nearly life size, hangs in St Paul’s Cathedral, where it is admired by thousands of visitors every year. Sales of postcards and bookmarks of it also run to thousands annually. Very few people, however, will know of its peregrinations before it arrived in St Paul’s.

The painting was commissioned by Charles Booth, a rich ship owner and friend of the Hunts in 1903, by which time Holman Hunt was virtually blind, a combination of glaucoma and working in that minute painstaking Pre-Raphaelite way had taken its toll. So most of the painting was done by E R Hughes under Holman Hunt’s instruction, but this fact was not made public and Hunt took all the credit. When the painting was finished, it was decided that it should go on exhibition to the Christian parts of the Empire.

After a brief exhibition at the Fine Art Society in the Spring of 1904, ‘The last version of the Light of the World’ and its vast frame, together they weighed just under a ton, were crated up and sent to Glasgow. They set sail for Halifax, Nova Scotia in February 1905. In Halifax, where frame and canvas were reunited, it was exhibited in the York Theatre Assembly Rooms. Booth had already employed two men to accompany it and a third was hired here with the sole task of removing it from its frame in under three minutes in case of fire. Percy Fennell, one of its custodians, gave lectures about its symbolism during day and took up station in a hammock beside it at night, with a loaded revolver at the ready. From Halifax the painting went by train to Montreal, Toronto and Winnipeg. It reached Vancouver in September.

From Canada, it travelled to Australia. In Sydney it was seen by 25,000 visitors a day. People thought they had seen Jesus. They prayed in front of the painting, fainted and had profound religious experiences. The crowds in Sydney were pushing through turnstiles at the rate of one person every 2.99 seconds, ‘ladies had their hats crushed, sashes torn and blouses deranged’, to quote a local journalist and the Police struggled to keep order.

“The Light of the World” visited Adelaide, Broken Hill, Melbourne and Sydney and then arrived in Auckland, New Zealand on the morning of Easter Day, April 15th, 1906. After Auckland, it spent a day in New Plymouth and then went by train to Wanganui (I once sold to the National Gallery of New Zealand some drawings made by a Scots doctor of his house and garden which was the first building in what became Wanganui. I hadn’t a clue about the importance of what I was selling and completely under-sold them. I’m happy they found their way home, however!)

In Palmerston North it was displayed in the Opera House, where 15,000 people came to see it. Then on it went to Napier, Wellington, Christchurch and finally Invercargill. After a terrifyingly stormy crossing of the Tasman Sea it arrived in Hobart. Artificial lighting in Hobart was a problem, but the Tasmanian Woolgrower’s Association had a vast and well-lit warehouse, which they offered as a venue. “The Light of the World” was exhibited there, propped up on sacks of wheat, surrounded by bales of wool and seen by over 11,000 visitors in the first two days.

It made a return trip to Adelaide. The Director of the Museum there wrote a letter to Booth thanking him for the loan and telling him that 104,000 people had seen it in eight days. After exhibitions in Brisbane and Rockhampton, it set sail for Capetown and was shown there. It was also exhibited in Durban, Pietermaritsburg and Johannesburg, where, just as in Australasia, it drew vast crowds, 25,000 in Johannesburg alone.

By the time it returned home in 1907 after two years abroad, it had been seen by more than seven million people. It is extraordinary to reflect on what an impact this old fashioned, latter-day Pre-Raphaelite painting made on Britons and their empire when one considers that Fauvism was raging in France at the same time and Impressionism was dead.

But what of the model for Jesus, then one of the most recognisable images on the planet. He was called Domenico Mancini (b.1873) and he was a handsome, athletic lad who stood over six feet tall. He and six or seven siblings left Picinisco, the highest village in the Abruzzi mountains in central Italy and settled in Hammersmith in the late 1880s. They became barrow boys, often defending their pitches with their fists. Domenico’s nephew, Alf, in fact, became a professional boxer and had a career of 148 fights, between 1920 and 1931, starting as a featherweight and ending up a middleweight. The Golden Gloves pub in Fulham Palace Road, owned by the Mancini family, was a famous local landmark, when I first arrived in London.

It was in 1889 that the good-looking Domenico was first approached by Sir William Blake Richmond to model for him. Richmond had settled in Hammersmith after his second marriage and was an Italian speaker, having worked for some years with Nino Costa and the Etruscan school. He was also an old friend of Holman Hunt and may well have introduced the two.

It wasn’t long before Domenico suggested to his brothers that they, too, could make a decent living as models, posing in the studio in the winter and keeping costermongering for the summer months.

In the end, Domenico gave up the street life and became a professional model for the rest of his days. Amongst others, he posed for Alma Tadema, Sargent, Frank Brangwyn and Sir Jacob Epstein. He is the boy riding the horse in G F Watts’s magnificent sculpture “Physical Energy” in Kensington Gardens. He wore Edward VII’s robes for a state portrait of the King. Whilst posing for this, they had to slice the King’s patent pumps to accommodate Domenico’s bunions! Getting models to pose for portraits, notably full-length ones, is a tradition going back centuries. Grandees, and especially monarchs, have better things to do than stand for hours in heavy clothing. John Evelyn described going into Van Dycks studio and seeing, propped up against the wall, countless eight foot canvases of men in armour. This work was carried out by assistants. The portraits had no hands and their faces were blank ovals waiting for the great man to paint the important bits from life.

Last, but by no means least, his legs were used by Alfred Drury for his sculpture of Sir Joshua Reynolds, completed in 1931 and now in the courtyard of the Royal Academy, most of us will have seen them. Domenico Mancini died in 1958, the year I went to prep school.

NB

This article was only made possible by the brilliant, scholarly research done on the painting by Jeremy Maas, an old friend of mine and father of Rupert, who entertained our Wednesday Club in his gallery in the Summer. Jeremy published a 240 page book on this one painting in 1984. I dedicate the article to his memory.

Reflections on the old master sales

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It is hard to know what to make of the Old Master Sales at the beginning of July. The totals of Christie’s, Sotheby’s and Bonhams at under £50m were only just above half of what they were last year at £80m.

The wonderful Lucas Cranach (lot 6 in Christie’s evening sale) of the Nymph of the Spring, a naked girl in a rocky river landscape, sold for £9.4m. More than the whole of the Sotheby’s Evening Sale put together (£7.1m).

There were some strong individual prices, just not enough of them. I’ve chosen 3 pictures from last weeks crop of Old Masters to write about, one from each of the major London salerooms.

What these three have in common is that they are all in beautiful state and, to my mind, are attractive images, but they are all slightly old-fashioned English “Country House” taste. It was going to be very interesting to see how they fared, in a market obsessed with the quirky and the novel.

My Bonhams choice was lot 60, a fine horse portrait by James Seymour. It was described as “a brown thoroughbred”, traditionally identified as “Spanking Roger”. I thought the presence of two foxhounds and a groom who looked as if he was wearing Beaufort Hunt livery implied that he was a hunter, but my brother-in-law, Hamish Alexander, who is in the racing world said the horse was too fine-boned to be a hunter. I take his word for it. He is an expert and Bonhams got it right.

Despite a suggestion that the signature and date were added later, he galloped away from an estimate of £30,000-50,000 to a very respectable £157,000.

My Sotheby’s choice was the star lot, a marvellous Willem van de Velde the Younger of “The Surrender of the Royal Prince during the Four Days’ Battle”. Although the subject was war, there was no gore, not too many burning vessels, nor drowning sailors and the composition was well -balanced and harmonious, but it didn’t find a buyer. I think the problem was the estimate; at £4-6m the top end was already a world record for the artist at auction. At half that estimate, it would have sailed away.

We finish on an optimistic note! Christie’s offered, as lot 12 in their evening sale, a Pastoral Landscape by Jacob van Ruisdael, the great Haarlem landscape painter. There was a panel join in the sky, but it hardly showed and the evening sun catching the sandy bank of the stream in the foreground, was just the sort of touch that appealed so much in Jacob’s work to John Constable. He owned four of them and made copies of others. This painting more than doubled the estimate with the price of £3.4m including buyer’s premium. It was painted in oil on a small oak panel, just over 2 feet wide and it was a very gentle subject, but it struck a chord in the hearts of several bidders.

If there is a lesson to be learned from these sales, it is that good Old Masters still command strong prices, but it is difficult for auctioneers to persuade collectors to part with their paintings in a time of conflict and inflation.

The one that got away…

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The “ones that got away” would be a more apt description of my career! Jan van de Capelle, Hugo van de Goes, John Constable, they have all slipped through my hands.

When you are young, you don’t always back your own judgement: you buy paintings speculatively and then start to research them. This involves showing photographs or the picture itself to whoever is the acknowledged expert. If they come back to you and say: “no, it isn’t by such and such”, you take it on the chin. You would never have the temerity to ask them to justify their opinion. That comes later, when you are older and have seen how fallible scholars are.

The picture I have chosen is a Transfiguration by Ludovico Carracci. I bought it at Phillips Son and Neale (now Bonhams) 40 years ago, catalogued as Italian School. I thought it was beautifully painted and probably Bolognese. It had a noble provenance “The Earl of Darnley” and was housed in a fine, if bulky, William IV carved and giltwood frame, all of which felt very positive to me. My brother, James, still has the frame with a mirror in it, in his hall.

After cleaning, which revealed a surface in remarkable condition, I had it photographed and sent images to the two most eminent scholars on Bolognese Baroque Art, one in the USA and the other in Germany. Their names are available upon request! Sadly, neither of them had a clue who painted my picture, nor did they show any enthusiasm for it. I advertised it in Apollo (Art Magazine) as “Italian School” and there was no response to that either!

Several years passed and I got a call from a friend who had found an old copy of Apollo and wondered if I still had the painting and, of course, I did. By some extraordinary fluke he had been working in a provincial museum Print Room and had come across two 17th Century engravings after my painting where the author was given as Ludovico Carracci, so he immediately realised the significance of what he’d seen. He asked me what the best price was and we shook hands on £6,000. It had cost me £3,000 before cleaning and reframing so it wasn’t a greedy price despite looking as if I had doubled my money.

He was not a rich man so I knew that he must know who the author of my Transfiguration was and that’s when he told me about the two prints. Good luck to him but, why on earth didn’t the two scholars I had consulted know about the prints and, therefore, the missing picture? Anyway, my friend kept it for decades, but in 2007 he sold it to the National Gallery of Scotland where it hangs to this day.

The moral of the story is… be patient and back your own judgement.

Constable at the V&A

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Last month I was given the most wonderful treat. I started my morning in the V&A picture rooms, looking at the Turners and Constables in the Sheepshank Bequest. How his descendants must hate his philanthropy; there are hundreds of millions of pounds worth of paintings hanging there.

Then I moved on to the Isabel Constable Bequest. Isabel was the last surviving child of John Constable and in September 1888 gifted the residual contents of her father’s studio to the Museum. There are 395 oil paintings, sketches, drawings, watercolours and sketchbooks in the bequest, of which a mere twenty odd were on view.

However, I had the good fortune to be taken behind the scenes to the secure lock-up, where the others are stored, by Emily Knight, daughter of my old friend Richard Knight (ex-head of Old Masters at Christie’s, London), who curates these treasures for the Museum.

I am particularly interested in Constable’s oil sketches, most of which were painted out of doors and many inscribed with a specific date and time of day, revealing much about his working practices. Here I was, backstage, taking them off the racks and holding them in my hands for a closer look. I have done this sort of thing before, so they were perfectly safe! Nevertheless, to be holding such precious objects in my hands was a great privilege. Sketches by constable can make seven figure sums these days.

Oil sketches were not always so precious, well not in commercial terms anyway. Constable never sold any, but he had been sketching in oil from around 1802, for example “Dedham Vale: Evening” when he was 27 and was particularly active from 1808 onwards. In his lifetime they were not considered independent works of art, by John Constable or any of his contemporaries, but formed a database of scenes he felt worthy of recording, which might be used as inspiration for large easel pictures in the future. He was an inveterate recorder of things around him and travelled with a large and small sketchbook and pencil everywhere he went, even on honeymoon! He is famous for saying that he never saw an ugly thing in nature and no man has ever devoted his life to portraying the landscape of his childhood with as much passion and brilliance as John Constable did. Indeed, it is the brilliance of these vivacious and spontaneous oil sketches dashed off on card, paper, strips of canvas, wood, or whatever came to hand, that chimes so well with modern taste. When trying to catch the play of light, as a rainstorm passes over the sea, as in “Weymouth Bay” of 1816, Constable does not have time to conform to the painting style of his own age, as a result of which, his oil sketches are timeless.

A selection of these dynamic little paintings is about to leave for an exhibition in Romania and then on to further venues in Eastern Europe. I was glad to have the chance to see them before they go and wish them bon voyage.

Drama of Light and Land: The Martyn Gregory Collection of British Art

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For the second time in two years, a good friend of mine has offered a portion of his stock for sale at one of the major London Auction Houses.

Last time around it was Rafael Valls at Sotheby’s, consigning Old Master oil paintings. I need not have fretted, all but 2 sold, but this time, it was Martyn Gregory offering British watercolours at Christie’s, a far more challenging proposition.

There are several reasons why watercolours do not chime with modern taste. The first is their fragility. We now know that light comes in particles and waves. We have always known that it generates heat and it fades watercolour pigments, if it hits them directly. This can take just a matter of a few years. They are also susceptible to attack from silverfish, if they are coated in Gum Arabic, the substance which made Osama Bin Laden’s family fortune, you may remember, and which was much used in the 19th Century by watercolourists to give depth to the colours. Silverfish love to eat Gum Arabic and when they do, it takes the pigment with it, leaving blank squiggles across the paper!

Watercolours are often painted on acidic paper and this can discolour and damage the pigments too. Furthermore, the big exhibition ‘machines’, the enormous watercolours ‘finished’ to a high degree, which the O.W.S. (Old Watercolour Society) and others produced in the early 19th Century, with a view to them holding their own, visually, when hung in exhibitions next to oil paintings, are totally out of fashion.

This is the background against which Martyn Gregory’s British Landscapes were offered. Christie’s were confident the sale would succeed and to sell 149 out of 194 lots proves them to be right. However, a closer analysis of what happened is revealing. The sale total was £559,864 including buyers’ premium, which adds nearly 34% to the hammer price. The lots averaged out at just over £3,700 each. When I was at Bonhams 10 years ago, we calculated that any lot selling for under £10,000 lost us money. (In this sale only 14 lots hit this threshold and that is including premiums) It must be the same for Christie’s. We can only speculate that they hope to get the rest of his stock in due course!

The landscapes that appealed most were wild places with dramatic stormy skies or lowering cloudy sunsets or both. The first 5 to exceed £10,000 were all Scottish scenes. Lot 5, the Turner of Oxford of Loch Torridon under a moody dawn sky was a very impressive example of this genre, as was his Sunset over Loch Coruisk on the Isle of Skye.

There was a classic harvesting scene by de Wint, painted on a warm late summer day at £15,000 and a fascinating and rare whaling scene in the Arctic by John Cleveley which made £20,000. However, despite these watercolours being well-chosen examples, in good condition, selected by an expert with a very good eye and promoted by the Christie’s International publicity machine, one came away with the feeling that British Watercolours, which were so sought after by collectors in previous decades, are somewhat passé.

In real terms most are worth a tenth of what they were 50 years ago. When will it be time for their re-assessment?

Reflections on The Old Master Sales

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“There are too many auctions and not enough collectors”, that is how Scott Reyburn’s article in the Art Newspaper in December 2021 began. It makes rather gloomy reading for any fan of Old Masters, but it is, sadly, the truth. Sotheby’s and Christie’s sales were down 20% on the year before the pandemic (2019). If a good Old Master in excellent state comes on to the market after an absence of several decades, it will make a strong price but there are simply not enough of them.

For those of you lucky enough to have come to our champagne private view at Bonhams, you might be interested to hear what happened to the paintings we examined there. The beautiful unlined, unrestored Lawrence of Jane Allnutt with her spaniel made £150,000 hammer, which I think is less than it deserved. The early Turner watercolour of North Wales, painted in rather muted tones made £40,000 which was twice the bottom estimate. The famous racehorse, Flying Childers, however, did not fly and is still under starter’s orders.

Rather than dwell on what were basically mediocre paintings making mediocre prices, I’d like to draw your attention to a couple of surprises. There was a very fine portrait of a man attributed to Frans Hals by Sotheby’s, which they offered with a very cagey estimate of £80,000-£120,000. The reason for their caution was that the two main experts on Frans Hals disagreed about its authenticity and the more recent of the scholars suggested it was by his son.

Not knowing what his son’s work looks like, I thought it looked like Frans himself. I was not alone in this as it made £1.95 million!

Sotheby’s also had, like Bonhams, an early Turner, theirs too was also Welsh, but this one was in oil and South Walian. It was a view of Cilgerran Castle dated 1799 and made £1 million against an estimate of £300,000-£500,000 proving once again the magic of the Turner name. The Constables on offer had a more varied outcome mostly due to the erratic estimating.
I am into my 6th decade of looking at Old Masters professionally and I am feeling the icy blast of change. The storm of interest in NFTs is going to have a detrimental effect on the way all collectors perceive art. The young are tech-savvy and non-materialistic, so is there a subtler way of collecting than virtually? Will the virtual supersede the real?