Turner: discovery of JMW Turner
Questions and answers
expert opinion, consultant; expertise both scientific and
curatorial CCI Marilyn Laver Tate / Clore Gallery.
Joseph Mallord William Turner Research, studies, society and news
Shipwreck, the Rescue c1802
J.M.W. Turner R.A. (161 x 222 cm)
Shipwreck, the Rescue: historically, this painting was 'the prize' of several Connoisseurs (provenance), all were English. So how did this major work from Turner's early monumental sea-disaster series leave the country in the first place! A series of somewhat shocking revelations will soon answer this question. Joseph Mallord William Turner
This website is largely based on a recent re-discovery of one of J.M.W. Turner's most historic and monumental paintings--Shipwreck, the Rescue. The efforts needed to uncover the history of this 'sea piece' were arduous but truly enlightening. Sharing the anxiety, torment, and excitement of this five year adventure will hopefully assist those with a similar challenge. It will also help those who want to understand how the art world functions at the top. In conjunction there are other important points of connoisseurship introduced. For example issues pertaining to Copies.
What follows is a brief outline of the story the website is meant to expound. For those with a deeper interest, the full tale is being captured in the forthcoming book Art World’s Dirty Little Secret jmw Joseph Mallord William Turner
-Introduction (below) This leads to a short overview of related artwork from Turner's earliest period, as well as, an in-depth discussion about Turner's style, a topic that is woven throughout the website.
-Scientific examination This entails a detailed look at the painting using leading edge testing techniques. Questions are raised over contradictory statements made by Tate Gallery officials. This seemingly obstructive contribution, although a difficult matter at first, becomes somewhat understood by the end of our story. See Tribal Instincts, and Institutional Evolution. jmw
-The Scientific report unravels much of the puzzle involved in dissecting a painting for forensic purposes. jmw Joseph Mallord William Turner
-Provenance (Christie's) Provenance is held as a critical part of the art authentication process, and in turn, the level of Connoisseurship of the previous owner of an artwork becomes the ultimate test of quality. In this regard Shipwreck, the Rescue is no exception.
-Fingerprints and Inscription jmw
Butlin's Visit Here, Martin Butlin, a fêted
JMW Turner aficionado,
co-author of the
Butlin and Joll catalogue on
Turner's work, and art
world insider makes a pilgrimage to spend a week in Canada. This visit is
briefly described at various points throughout the website i.e. 'Ehrenbrietstein;
the hand theory'. The discussions that took place during the entire stay are
dealt with more substantially in the book. In fact roughly a quarter of the book
is allocated to an ongoing discourse of art-world revelations. Beside issues
over Turner's body of
legal fears, and monopolistic practices;
dialogue concerning art dealers, auction firms, and the art establishment
generally, is presented verbatim.
The most unspeakable result of what might be considered dirty art politics, was what happened to the American legend, John Anderson Jr., author of The Unknown Turner.
-Portrait of a Hero In the end - it's all about Turner, the hero of our story.
As an Introduction - we begin our story knowing full well that the veracity of the book falls firmly on the clear and indisputable verification of the painting that lies at the center of the story - Shipwreck, the Rescue. As part of the discovery process we all have an opportunity to learn about art and the art world on various levels. The site is meant to develop individual skills necessary for becoming a well-groomed collector, and at the same time provide key information about art-world politics. It is learning by osmosis whereby the ultimate goal is to better understand humanities and culture. The bonus is that Joseph Mallord William Turner R.A. (1775-1851) was one of the greatest artists that ever lived.
J.M.W. Turner engraved by W. Roffe after a statue by E. Baily R.A.
Turner's Style early Sea Pieces
[xli] Turner 1775-1851, (The Tate Gallery; third impression with corrections, 1975), 38.
[xlii] John Rothenstein and Martin Butlin, Turner, (George Braziller Inc., New York, 1964), 26.
[xliii] Gerald Wilkinson, Turner’s Early Sketchbooks, (Watson-Guptill Publications, New York, 1972), 52.
Postscript Tribal Instincts
Rescuing Turner: A New Age of Art Discovery:
r malcolm setters / graham setters
"...What followed was a report from Martin Butlin on behalf of Christie’s dated 3 September 2001. It is difficult to understand why a report which Martin must have felt was well considered, dealt almost exclusively with trying to refute the established evidence supporting an attribution to Turner rather than presenting concrete reasons why the painting might not be by the artist. For lack of such reasons, and even if there were only stylistic anomalies that could rightly be plied against the painting, surely these would have been carefully articulated first and foremost.
Nonetheless, lucid style-cognition, although in the eye of the beholder, may not always be in the arena of the authority. Not to make a direct link here, but F. M. Cornford in his introduction to The Republic of Plato describes how unimpeachable authority went wrong: “despotic man, who the Greeks called ‘tyrant’, the three most powerful motives, ambition, fear, and greed, have finally triumphed over reason and humanity.”[i]
It is vital to realize that there are great advantages to private collecting by connoisseurs like James Orrock; it is important to have scholars outside the strictures of officialdom in order that there is freedom to do undirected research driven by passion alone. Involvement in independent study must hold sway over dogmatic policies of a status quo that confine the lust for knowledge and eventually conceals the truth. Policies and procedure that develop on the basis of self-interests and for political expedience can only dislodge good judgment and distort reality. The desire to control ones environment is natural, and is ever the case in the hierarchal-world of governing bureaucracies; but when any authoritative body gains a monopoly in a certain area, that particular area is bound to decay.
The Muses for Homer might tease us to believe that: “Hard as it may be for a state so framed to be shaken, yet, since all that comes into being must decay, even a fabric like this will not endure for ever, but will suffer dissolution.”[ii] In the short term control can be propped up by force of influence, but eventually if the regime is controlled entirely by self-interested officials, it will eventually not only destroy itself, but also, that which it stands to represent. At this point, albeit inadvertently, the management of Turner interests has forced the art of their namesake to suffer immeasurably through successfully controlling private connoisseurship and denying the rediscovery of lost paintings (of which there are probably many).
It is inarguable that authentic Turners have been condemned, shuffled around and possibly destroyed by such contempt for the private collector, independent scholarship, and connoisseurship outside of officialdom. Sadly, in our times this virus of the intellect is not isolated to Turnerism, but is prevalent wherever the stakes are greatest; whenever a particular artist or group of artists is considered rare, precious, and of course valuable. And also where there is the need to protect prices at an artificially high level.
On the other hand, in sympathy with officialdom, once they support or condemn a painting, they do, automatically have a legal attachment to it. People will undoubtedly come back for reckoning if the status of the work changes. In his ‘heart of hearts’ would Martin Butlin have the heart to make such a big commitment and support a multi-million dollar picture even if he believed it to be absolutely right? What if he had been in some way involved with condemning the picture in the past? We already know that he dreads the courtroom and considers lawyers “a terror,” could this be one reason for his adamancy even in the face of indisputable evidence. “In light of new European laws, which place greater liability for misrepresenting works of art onto the art merchants,”[iii] and the inevitable sharing of such liability by any who mistakenly support a wrong attribution, it is understandable that even a brave expert might cower. What if they were not even aware of its former status?
Certainly many are afraid to change the status of any potentially important work of art because of the legal ramifications and getting tangled in lengthy and expensive ballyhoos. If a work was determined to be by Rembrandt and a multi-million dollar transaction took place because of the attribution, then, if at a later time the piece were denounced, somebody would likely be drawn into battle. If a work by Picasso were denounced and later accepted by a different expert, the former owner who had sold it as a “corking dud,” (as Martin would call it) would be out for blood. Fallout from this would be that the erring expert would try and cover-up any former transgression or misjudgment. This largely makes modern connoisseurship, art dealing, collecting; and for that matter, scholarship, somewhat of an exercise in futility.
One should not understand this as an entirely modern phenomenon confined to an English speaking world. As noted by J.H. Duveen, litigation was a pervasive worry for him and his Dutch cohorts nearly a century ago; “I can’t afford to be cited as a witness in any notorious law case. You know what the Dutch Courts are like when it comes to delays and enquiries: I shouldn’t be my own master for two years!”[iv]
“Who said what,” is clearly part of the problem. Not to know what authority has made what attribution to establish the status of a work creates a concern that can never be forgotten. Timid bureaucrats that are interested in there job firstly might be the biggest problem in this regard. Those that are willing to “going to the stake” or at least go to court in support of the truth seem few-and-far between? We must remember that some public institutions have been refusing to give opinions on works in private hands for over half a century now. If the only accepted authority has a monopoly position and at the same time works for a mute institution, one might ponder: “what has happened to honest scholarship?” Give the collector a form letter of indifference, sweep the matter under the rug and hope that “they will just go away,” is this the answer!
There appears to be no respite for those that are being damaged by this profound level of cowardice. The only recourse must be to take the problem out of the political realm and apply science with a vengeance. There must be a thrust toward developing more reliable tests and trials in order to mandate acceptance of such evidence by those that have up until now been able to maintain control through privileged appointments rather than honest scholarship. Would it work for the injured parties to play the role of martyr and subject themselves to the slow, expensive, and tormenting fuse of litigation in order to smoke the timid out of their ivory towers?
Martin must have realized the reciprocal risk involved in his decision over Shipwreck, the Rescue; he may have been in a precarious position regardless of whether he supported an attribution or not. What if a work had at one point been condemned and assigned to a non-autograph category; such as, school of, follower of, ‘after’ a particular artist, and it sold as a dud, then later, it was supported as authentic and sold for many millions? I wonder what Frosty, the former owner would think if he saw his once condemned picture sell to the Getty Museum for a huge sum. How certain must Martin be before change the status of a painting such as this, and particularly if he was implicated in condemning it in the first place?
Someone in this precarious circumstance might not be willing to jeopardize himself, friend, or foe by supporting a piece that he had once condemned; even if there was irrefutable evidence subsequently discovered in support of authenticity. It would make more sense for him to put up the battle of his life. If this is true, why had Martin come to Penticton in the first place if he had a conflict of interest? Alas, therein is the chafe, by his own confession he is effectively the only Turner expert that could get the picture into a Christie’s or Sotheby’s sale, and without this reference, the painting would always have a cloud of suspicion hanging over it.
The fundamental problem here is that the consumer of art-services is clearly at risk of being damaged, and especially if there is only one authority available to give a fully accepted authentication. This holds true also if there is only one sales venue to get top dollar; for example, auction houses that collude effectively to create a single venue. This is a given if the two or three top firms will accept only one authoritative opinion before standing behind a work and promoting it to the fullest.
One other question still remained. How willing might any auction house be to stand behind an important work, or how willing would a consumer be to expend a huge sum without some equally large guarantee? This is a major problem. Imagine paying a million dollars at a good auction house in California for a small Manet, only to find out later that Wildensteins, the venerable art dealers with offices in Paris, New York, London, and Buenos Aires did not like it! If such a high-level authority questioned the authenticity of the Manet from California, there would certainly be turbulent times at the auction house.
In the face of art-politics this problem can be capricious; over a half-century ago Friedlander was already talking about the impact of this sort of vacillation by the influential: “Let us say that he [the expert] recognized a picture as a work by Rembrandt. Out of confidence in him somebody acquires it at a high price. Later he arrives at the conclusion that he has made a mistake. Even if his love of truth now overcomes his vanity, he is yet reluctant to harm someone who has believed in him… Most people do not confess their mistake or they try and confuse the hard facts, more particularly as they know from experience that their clients never forget a financial loss.”[v]
Have we ended our subplot with an antihero of sorts? In the beginning our guest was seen as a charming comedic celebrity; had he become a slapstick villain? A villain, not only because he had condemned Shipwreck, the Rescue, but also, because he discharged brilliant connoisseurs such as: Griffith, Robinson, and Orrock in the process. Although gravely dishonored by Leviathan practices, “like incest in a way”—Friedlander comforts: “There is no choice but optimistically to rely upon the fact that ignorance and unscrupulousness will gradually be discovered in the circle of collectors.”[vi]
The gentle Amiel, brooding upon his terrace at Geneva, came to more just conclusions about Wagner than did the professional litigants battling nearer Bayreuth, with louder but since forgotten words.[vii] – Henry McBride: The Flow of Art
It is fair to say that the sometimes subtle and sometimes not so subtle politics and conferred rites at the uppermost level of the art-world, beg a moral inquisition. And that the vainglory inherent in what might be considered the most sophisticated of professional endeavors—art historical scholarship—has oftentimes, because of selfishness and fear, resulted in the neglect of truth. In an effort to maintain their special post, and the status quo; progress to a position of more influence, escape litigation, or control the market; several heavily endowed institutions, privileged individuals, connected dealers, auction houses, and museum officials appear to have been debased. Or, they are at least running scared in front of the momentum of forces larger than themselves.
Their priorities are centered on a perceived need to protect their own special interests and promote their somewhat confused ideology before all else, and in a voracious quest to control reputations and monopolize their own areas of interest, they often neglect what should be the heart of their purpose: scholarship, honest education, and art preservation. Unfortunately, those who are surely apt to benefit from, and contribute to these more altruistic principals are perceived as a threat and are discouraged from participation. For one example, the small independent collector is largely shunned. This seemingly unimportant situation is of course unacceptable when one compares the contribution made by those motivated more by emotion and curiosity; than by “ambition, fear, and greed.” According to Friedlander, “Enthusiastic lovers of art – at the same time mere amateurs – have contributed most and in the best fashion towards artistic reconstruction… Coldly analytical scholars make fewer mistakes; they perform, however, less in the way of positive perception; they discover less, with weaker flair.”[viii]
At the command center of the modern art world, London, there is a triumvirate of self-serving groups working in concert. These include: politically powerful aristocrats and bureaucrats, the auction firm group, and a select number of dealers. In fact, the last of what Bernard Berenson wrote in his lifelong diary broached with melancholy the aristocratically pyramidal structure of society that Great art serves.[ix]
Working parallel yet antagonistically toward debasing this pyramidal group were the Marxist intellectuals like Superintendent of the Queen’s Pictures, Sir Anthony Blunt, and other influential docents—those who had rejected the concept of private ownership, and in specific, private ownership of art. This ultimately allowed this same triad to take control by undermining the influence of independent dealers, and collectors; not to mention the less politically influential museums. “Steiner contends that the belief that, ‘great art is not and cannot be private property,’ played a crucial part in crystallizing Blunt’s, ‘contemptuous loathing for capitalism.’”[x]
Ultimately, things appear to have gone contrary to Blunt’s socialist dream of a personally controlled mother-institution full of the best works of art—works that were slated to be confiscated by him and his comrades. Latent sentiments derived from collectivist propaganda have in the mean time given ideological control over to the institutional sector; and ironically, the dim light that now emphasizes social interpretation via art historical criticism has enabled the triad—the ‘pyramid of capitalists’ to move in and take command. Clearly the left-leaning policies that have been spawned within the institutional and curatorial communities today have enabled the era of monopoly control by this contemporary form of the “bourgeoisie.” The interred Anthony Blunt should roll in despair.
Of the winners that moved into the void created by this quiet revolution of docile socialist educators, one might firstly envision the Invisibles, presided over by the Duke of Westminster. He and his group of the most influential British aristocrats reign over key institutions by means of interconnected board memberships and the laws of noble precedence. Near and dear to art interests, there are; the National Heritage Memorial Fund, National Art-Collections Fund, and the National Trust: which in turn coddle and hold sway over; The National Gallery, British Museum, V&A, the National Portrait Gallery, and the Tate Gallery.
Next are the closely related auction firms with their enduring grasp on the art market at the uppermost level. Finally, there is the limited group of influential dealers whose cooperation assists their overseers both financially and politically. This development is the only way that the market has been able to fly as high as it has and to the benefit of the select few. Benevolently, one should consider the result an evolutionary one, a tyranny of precedence and dutiful capitulation as opposed to a conspiracy.
Surely, stealthy business practices enter in as well. Christie’s and Sotheby’s, for example have undeniably gained much of their market position from a keen and effective marketing strategy: glitzy catalogues and annual reviews; exclusive direct mailers; presale tours of artwork sent between international venues, and public media campaigns orchestrated by staging auctions that predict and purport to deliver record multi-million dollar sale-prices.
With control set firmly with an elite few, one might only hope for a good underlying value-system… “Art for art’s sake is really awful rot,” declared Sotheby’s long-term chairman Peter Wilson, “he would go on to preach a little sermon on the utility of greed… Peter Wilson divided the world into those who wished to appear richer than they were, and those who knew it was smart to seem poorer, and he practiced the auction business as the exploitation of the former by the latter… It was a complex amorality which drove Peter Wilson to generate, almost single-handedly, a new sort of international business that was dominated by the English.”[xi] Ultimately it is the way in which the benefits of such domination are allocated within this milieu that needs unraveling.
It has long been accepted that Sotheby’s and Christie’s have been served by employees from the “polite” class, those who are more likely to have access to noble households and ancestral collections, and those that move more comfortably within privileged circles. British peers are often awarded top administrative positions in the museum world and certain dealers are patronized and operate according to ‘tribal’ customs in support of the influential. Put together, this creates an intangible support system that becomes exclusionary. When issues pertaining to death duties, inheritance tax, or treaty sales of important property are at sake, as they often are in aristocratic circles, it becomes imperative to have friends in the right places. A relationship in the spirit of this statement might be the one between David Westmoreland, Chairman of Sotheby’s, who was at the same time, “Master of the Horse and Lord-in-Waiting to the Queen.”[xii]
The tight controls needed to direct transactions according to precedence are well taken care of. According to Hugh Roberts of Christie’s, with auxillary assistance from; “lawyers, accountants, politicians, heritage lobbyists, dealers, treasury officials, Christie’s, National Trust, and above all the Heritage Fund,”[xiii] negotiated sales take place well beyond the circumstances of the middle class. When Roberts strung together the above list of individuals with their, “discreet behind the scenes lobbying,” to accommodate the sale of those “greatest English country houses and their collections – Kedleston Hall, Nostell Priory and Weston Park,” he was in effect waving a red flag at all but the elite.
His article on the subject was sprinkled with earls, viscounts and lords. In accordance with the new age business model which attempts to limit competition by increasing the size and scope of its operations, the leaders of the art-world appear to be following suit by amalgamating the professionals, select dealers, and experts into structured compliance to support those with influence. At the same time it is imperative that they exclude interlopers, those that might pose a threat, including: the independent collector; unconnected dealer; small auction firms, and minor museums. Although there are chants to the contrary, most decision making is not meant firstly to benefit art, culture, or humanity.
In the British antique trade, it is common knowledge that ‘blackballing’ competitors, dishonestly condemning their inventory, and conspiring at auctions to control prices has been going on for years. Long established dealers condemning the inventory of the smaller dealers in order to keep control and maintain higher prices for the established few has been the standard within the industry for a long time. In the late 19th century when trying to get a foothold in London Joel Duveen admits nearly succumbing to this same sort of bullying, “He soon found out that there was a campaign against him, waged particularly by those men to whom he had shown his finest things. They depreciated them by raising doubts about their genuineness... this stabbing in the back nearly ruined him.”[xiv] Ironically, by jockeying for position within the purview of the landed gentry, his son Joseph became a Lord, the most powerful dealer in the world, and by far the biggest bully.
Rare art by old masters such as J.M.W. Turner, Rembrandt, and Boucher; and even modern masters such as Picasso, L.S. Lowry, and Rodin are largely trapped within a medley of similar elite coalitions. This limited group of artists has been introduced to exemplify diversity when accounting for international interests, and in fact, significant indigenous power-groups in different countries have strong influence internationally. Although this is in respect to authenticating art work within the limits of their own expertise, in the final analysis they all must defer to the twin auction firms in Britain to get an acceptable and in certain cases an over-the-top price at auction.
Woven into the mix of high prices is the concept of rarity, and for this, most elite participants within this loose-knit consortium are on the same page. It is accepted practice to allow only a trickle of any important artist’s work into the marketplace at any one time. Simultaneously all the varied participants defend against rivalry toward their National best interests, attacks against the primacy of their own established-order, and threats to the financial interests of those at the top. This is neatly accomplished using innocent ‘customary precedence’, rather than, what some might consider preplanned obstructionism.
Particularly in Britain, if one were to tag this as a conspiracy of sorts it would have to be called an ‘overt conspiracy’; this of course is very much an oxymoron—a paradigm-shift. One should not look at this state of affairs as a conspiracy, but instead, only the demands set within a caste society. Candor less and largely unfair, intentions are not meant purposely to deceive but merely to benefit those that are deemed to deserve special privileges.
Morris Eaves summed things up by referring to Western art history as a myth. With feudalism and the aristocracy in his crosshairs he acknowledged the interdependence of the art trade: “the loosely organized network of clubs, societies, and schools through which the English art trade had been conducted.”[xv] Within this framework, James Barry feared a conspiracy, whereby; “the agents of profit must thwart the agents of knowledge.”[xvi]
Here we see a connected group of individuals who bend justice a little as they fulfill their daily mandates, and by the time the lot-of-them are teamed up, British society is left with a warped system and one that unjustly benefits the peerage and established few. This is a concept that is in keeping with the “incremental accumulation of half-truths” that eventually results in a lie. If Martin Butlin were a member of this “loosely organized network”, offering half-truths in order to benefit the few, it would explain why he had difficulty admitting or at least defining his purpose in life. It is true that his own authority for much of his working life had been granted from above, whereby, the funds necessary for the acquisitions and operations at the Tate were granted from the House of Lords. To follow the money trail is to follow the trail of reciprocal-responsibility and patronage. In the end, this is more a ‘state of being’ than a means of coercion, the participants act out their role in accordance with their upbringing. “Duty” is their calling; all is forgiven for the sake of duty!
When Sotheby’s was clearing out a number of items for sale from Lady Alington’s house—a folkloric tale was born—what Turner might have termed the ‘fallacies of truth’. On discovering, by chance, a bundle of overtly affectionate letters scribed beneath the royal cipher; rather than selling this important bit of history, the letters “were consigned to the boiler, ‘on orders from above.’”[xvii] One might ask: “Where is above?” Possibly the same place wherefrom the Queen issued her warning to Paul Burrell—a mysterious place of dangerous and unspeakable forces “of which we have no knowledge… ”
Regardless of the name we give the beast of inequity, one auxiliary spin-off is the de-attribution of genuine Turner paintings whenever it can be “gotten away with,” as Martin might admit. One can only assume that the reason for these de-attributions and rejections is to reduce the number of arrant Turner paintings that could come onto the market without proper control. Without proper art-market control there would certainly be a deflation of those unreasonably high Turner prices and deflation in the value of art across the board. This in turn would impact the core of art world commerce anchored in Britain.
The architect of the Cubist movement Daniel-Heinrich Kahnweiler knew all too well how important it was to carefully ration works onto the market. After WWI the French government wanted to auction off en-mass the modern paintings that had been confiscated from aliens (and vaguely defined aliens) such as Kahnweiler. Kahnweiler told authorities: “What you are doing is idiotic. These auctions will lower the prices of valuable paintings. The first one will fetch one thousand francs, the second five hundred, and so on.”[xviii]
By early rationing of Picasso and other Cubist artists, Kahnweiler and Rosenberg demonstrated this point ideally, and the final proof of their genius is in the present market value for such work. From an artist like Picasso, who produced twenty thousand artworks (as many as seven per day), it is difficult to understand why so few end up on the market each year, especially when the ones that do often bring millions of dollars. High prices alone usually draw valuables out of the woodwork and onto the market. There is indubitably some discrete force that restricts the flow of these artworks through the twin British auction firms, the auction firms where those astronomical prices are made. Reducing the number of authenticated works in the marketplace, or at least ones that are available to be traded as authentic, increases rarity and drives up prices.
In 1969 in the autumn of his life there was a revealing interview with Kahnweiler. By this time he had become a legend—the one responsible for narrowing the art world focus to a slim number of artists and in the process guiding the prices for their work ever higher. The motives behind his determined efforts were blatantly observed by art critic Pierre Cabanne. On urging the great and by then very wealthy Kahnweiler, “to name great artists after Picasso and Braque, he would name Masson, Beaudin, and Kermadec…Naturally his listing elicited the embarrassing question, ‘If I understand what you are saying, there are no great artists beyond those in your gallery?’”[xix]
In the case of the non-British artworks—second tier ones that are less core to the prestige of Britain—quasi monopolistic control is orchestrated by less influential groups. Seldom does one individual have the financial resources to promote and control the market of higher-priced artists independently; in the modern era only one internationally based dealer comes to mind, and that is Wildenstein and Co. But with the second tier and especially within niche markets there can be both individuals and groups that affect the market as an oligopoly might. Most these participants are not graduates of renowned business schools or products of stock market and financial circles as the famous dealers Kahnweiler, and Rosenberg, or financiers such as William Weinberg, or investment bankers such as Charles Angrand (who would move from collector status to become financial director of Sotheby’s), but in their own awkward way the less powerful still effect their own small sector of the art market.
The collecting-cataloguing-marketing schema was no better exemplified than by the Sotheby’s sale of the American Weinberg collection. J.B. De la Faille had catalogued and effectively closed the book on van Gogh’s oeuvre (Weinberg was the first major collector under this cataloguer’s tutelage) In the mean time, Sotheby’s, by means of exuberant marketing had already started the upward spiral for works by modern masters. By the time they brought the Weinberg artworks back to London from the US they were worth many fold what they had been at time of purchase, many sold for record breaking prices. The art market has not looked back or downward since. But this has little to do with the second tier; producing a complete catalogue raisonné for an artist of the second tier is seldom cost effective unless of course a bigger long-term scheme was planned.
The third class of art is often referred to as decorative. Although these artists are ‘listed’ quality artists, they are subject to the vagaries of the free market system and trade freely. It is this type of art that is open to just about anyone to trade, buy, and sell, and pieces usually change hands for a paltry few thousand dollars. If one traces the life history of artists such as John Delisle Parker, Jiří Kayser, Gerald Roach, and Zeljko Kujundzic it is easily seen how these third tier artists are relatively undervalued—in fact, unjustly neglected.
J.M.W. Turner, Buttermere Lake
A Romantic Revival painting by Gerald Roach, compared with Turner’s Buttermere Lake.
This leads one to wonder how-much of the art marketplace has been influenced as described. Looking back over the years it is evident that some qualified critics were already trying to alert the public. Kahnweiler in the 1950s confidently implicated himself with the “Picasso Business” and its four main individuals: Picasso, Braque, Gris, and Léger, “he was, as he used to say, chief executive of ‘The Picasso Business’…Kahnweiler handled everything, making sure Picasso was rationed in just the right amounts.”[xx] As mentioned, he also fought to keep the number of artists within the group as limited and controllable as possible; using as his rational the argument that artists outside his own stable were insignificant. This included the most gifted: Dali, Metzinger, de Chirico, Matisse, and Derain. Collaborating dealers would be adamantly advised to “exhibit only works of the highest quality to the detriment of quantity.”[xxi] And again, Kahnweiler would narrowly define the handful of artists he considered quality.
Albeit innocently achieved, one historic example of market control was when J.M.W. Turner was also stabilizing his personal art prices by limiting the supply on the open market. One way he did this was by purchasing his own works when they came up for sale at auction. When the poet, Thomas Campbell (1774-1844), for whom Turner did watercolours to illustrate one of his publications, wanted to sell the originals, Turner insisted on purchasing them back in order to guarantee that they would not sell inexpensively. According to Turner’s friend Cyrus Redding, “Turner [buys his work back] because he is tender about his reputation; he will not have them in the market.”[xxii] Turner’s prices were strong even from early on in his career.
If a major work by an artist such as van Gogh, Picasso, Rembrandt, Pollock, Monet, or Turner were to sell for under $100,000 it would shake the market. Conversely, if a painting by an artist sells for double what might be expected, then the overall price level for the artist’s work would rise. Therefore, when this happens one might justifiably suspect market manipulation.
Could the idea of bidding up prices also be used to enhance the reputation of the auction house where such a record-breaking painting sold? Certainly! Has it happened? Yes, in a round-a-bout way at least. The innovative chairman of Sotheby’s, Peter Wilson, in 1956 fiercely fought to secure for sale at auction an important painting by Nicolas Poisson rather than having it sell through a dealer as it would normally have done at that time. In order to secure the sale he promised a guaranteed sale price. The painting sold for less than the guarantee, but although Sotheby’s had to pay the difference, a record price was made for the year. This was revolutionary and the publicity that ensued drew more artwork into the auction arena. Reports of high and record-breaking prices have been the fuel of the twin auction firm’s marketing strategy ever since.
It does not take much imagination to make a connection here with the now historic Peau d’Ours sale of 1914, when the important Picasso, Les Bateleurs (Family of Acrobats) and other cubist works were put up for auction. This was the first real test for cubist painting in general. The question was: could they stand against the vagaries of the auction room and maintain credibility? This made Kahnweiler especially nervous because his whole stable of artists depended on positive results from this highly publicized sale. Others that had a vested interest, in particular, were the Russian collectors of cubist paintings, Shchukin and Morozov. They had bought several paintings through Kahnweiler’s exclusive dealership. Ten days earlier Kahnweiler, “had written Shchukin and Morozov, offering to send them the auction catalogue and to bid for them without charging any commission.”[xxiii] Ultimately another German dealer bid the highest price and won the top prize, Les Bateleurs; so whatever the finer details of the process really were, things worked out just fine. Picasso, Kahnweiler’s most prominent cubist made a record price of 11,500 francs.
According to one newspaper report: in the mid 1920’s “sensational and also suspect bids,” under the aegis of commissaires-priseurs, Alphonse Bellier, established several previously little known artists in this way. The winners here of course were the artists themselves, and the dealers that had presumably stockpiled their works:
“Bellier continued as a dominant force in the art market throughout the Twenties and Thirties. In fact, the auction in Paris in the Twenties resembled those in New York some sixty years later… The rather feverous excitement generated in the auction sales became particularly associated, from 1925 onwards, with sales of modern art, where spectacular leaps in price were common…From the time that the auctions of modern art began to succeed in 1925-26 they were considered as the key to the state of the art market and the gauge of the boom in modern painting. As prices steadily rose, observers became increasingly suspicious of the way in which the bids occurred. There was a tradition attached to the Hotel Drouot concerning the sales of antiques, which portrayed a mysterious gang of dealers rigging all the auctions (the bande noire). Now the notion was adapted to interpret sales of modern art—the dealers were accused of buying at inflated prices, paintings by artists whose work they had in stock.”[xxiv]
Had the world of fine art—that around which cultural identity was formed, become little more than a ‘cash cow’ for the influential. Two top European dealers, “Kahnweiler, and Rosenberg had trained in commerce, in commodities in London, Antwerp, and Paris.”[xxv] In Lyon, July 1915, Tony Tollett delivered a lecture at the Academy of Sciences, and Literature and Arts dealing with the corporate influence of a few dealers in French art. He said that, “these dealers quickly prospered by cultivating wealthy collectors, by buying all the works of an artist in order to speculate with full control over the stock, and by falsely inflating the prices. He blamed them for having influenced and bribed critics and having started art magazines in order to better control the market.”[xxvi]
The modern business model and the sorts of exploitation that can accompany such practice were clearly being applied to the world of art and apparently with great pecuniary reward. With Kahnweiler, in his biography by Pierre Assouline we are first led to assume that his financial venture into collecting art as a young man was altruistic and mainly driven by an innocent passion for his subject. It might be interesting to rationalize this in light of his introduction to the world of finance under the aegis of his maternal uncles, who had “specialized in the buying and selling of precious metals for over a century, and enjoyed a conciderable fortune… They could best be described as bankers, speculators, entrepreneurs, or brokers…and they controlled gold and diamond mines in South Africa.”[xxvii] After being sponsored by those same family members Kahnweiler opened a gallery in Paris. The way in which he was to apply his ancestral wit in controlling the earliest bits of his own art-world empire—Braque, Derain, Vlaminck, and van Dongen—was described by Assouline as such: “When he decided to buy he bought everything... Exclusivity was the basis of his actions and the only rule he would never forsake:”[xxviii]
The exclusive rights to the artist’s production would become his obsession; it was in keeping with his possessive and impetuous nature as well as his commercial logic. He would bear the success and the failures of the artists he liked and supported. In ethical terms it was known as reciprocal loyalty; in commercial terms, it would be called a monopoly. In a letter to the sculptor Manolo he spelled out his position unequivocally: “All of your work must pass through my hands, and I will not tolerate any exception to this. For so many years I have been a faithful supporter of your work, and I believe that I have the right to also demand your loyalty. On this point I will never make any concession.”[xxix] This became a very workable system within the modern era and along with the definitive catalogues raisonné, certain museums and many dealers have as a result become partial and inward looking.
Surely to the delight of both Kahnweiler and Picasso, with a 1960 exhibition held at the Tate Gallery in London, they were ostentatiously gathered into the fold of the omnipotent triumvirate; Assouline revealed: “Roland Penrose organized the most complete exhibition ever held on a living artist at the Tate Gallery in London, naturally Kahnweiler was in attendance and gave Picasso a detailed report as his special envoy: the number of rooms, the distance between paintings, the chronology of the hanging, the names of the dealers Sotheby’s had invited, the opening party held in a tent set up in front of the Tate with paella, flamenco dancers, and art critics singing his praises. Everything was there.”[xxx]
As a result there would be no looking back for Picasso or at his prices, he was now a made artist. The pivotal influence of those aforementioned cognoscenti is somewhat veiled here, but it is fair to assume that the British auction firms, dealers and allied curators were collaborating to the utmost.
An even more worrisome unnatural pressure on art prices happened within the last couple of decades. There was an enormous price-spike for Impressionist and modern paintings caused, this time, by unintended consequences. It is mentioned here in order to show how, no matter what side of the economics equation price pressures come from, there is always the art establishment in the wings to guide things in an orderly direction. This major price-spike was driven by unmanageable demand, as opposed to intentional limitations on supply (as might be imposed by special interest groups). Thousands of very expensive impressionist and modern paintings made their way to Japan as a way to offer bribes during real estate dealings. Obviously the pressure of this abrupt increase in demand impacted prices internationally, they “not only rose sharply, they rose madly as well.”[xxxi] But this artificial price increase was not the worst of it. Works were sold, then immediately bought back for many times their value in order to secretly bribe people or at least surreptitiously transfer funds during land deals.
With the stock market downturn in 1987 and subsequent real estate market collapse in Japan these over-valued paintings were redirected into the hands of creditors who wanted rid of them. “When Michael Ainslie later analyzed the top twenty Japanese buyers at Sotheby’s in the years 1984-92, he discovered…that seventeen of them were either bankrupt, in jail, or under serious investigation.”[xxxii] Christie’s and Sotheby’s have made it clear that if these paintings were dumped over a short period of time the art market would collapse. These paintings still sit in waiting. Surely the appropriate gatekeepers will ensure an orderly reintegration for some of those forsaken masterpieces notwithstanding the rumours that are already circulating over the authenticity of many of those works!
This review of how the market can go wrong when syndicates form, and what influence they impart is not meant to suggest here that the monopoly Martin Butlin talks of, and the causes leading up to it, fall too far outside the responsibility of Britain’s own twin auction firms and the close-knit group of comrades back in England. One might trace certain ‘seeds’ back nearly a century, prior to 1914 when “Berlin had been a centre of great collecting activity. An affluent generation of mostly Jewish bankers and industrialists had been encouraged by the ubiquitous Bode to spend money” on art. [xxxiii] In the early 1930s Sotheby’s was making inroads into this community by appointing R.G. Birch as their representative; he was very knowledgeable about the German scene, and perhaps auspiciously, he was also the son of a Keeper at the British Museum. Much art made it back to Britain during the following decades in large part due to the currency advantage the British pound had over the German mark. Sotheby’s in its quest for salable merchandise had apparently been positioned with the right people, in the right place, at the right time—even back then.
Then there was Maurice Rheims’ encounter with Peter Wilson of Sotheby’s, involving the sale of King Farouk’s collection in 1954. Rheims, a top Paris commissaires-priseurs at the time, said that Wilson was “no neutered pet but a formidable tom… [He] threw a blockade round Paris and made London the turntable of the art market.”[xxxiv] One effective part of the process was to open a Monte-Carlo office in the 1970s. The international positioning of the firm was further enhanced with the acquisition of Parke Bernet, New York in 1964, and from that point onward offices were opened worldwide.
Most recently there has even been a challenge to Wildenstein’s primacy in the world of Impressionist painting. This had to do with a Manet. In 1997 Sotheby’s refused to sell this painting that had been fully authenticated and catalogued by Wildenstein. This is likely the frontline in the battle over control of the impressionist market. In the same article about the Wildensteins, Suzanna Andrews joins the chorus about the “growing dominance of the auction houses over the market.”[xxxv]
According to the report by George Rush, the disputed Manet, La Liseuse was from the estate of Mildred Allen, widow of Charles Allen Jr., who was head of the New York investment firm of Allen and Co. The Wildensteins had sold it to Allen in 1957. In a rare interview with this secretive family of art dealers, the richest in the world (conservatively estimated to be worth more than 5 billion dollars), Rush quotes the frustrated Alec Wildenstein: “We happen to make the book on Manet. I think we know a bit more about Manet than either Sotheby’s or Christie’s.”[xxxvi] (In fact they produced: Rouart, Denis and Daniel Wildenstein, Edouard Manet, Catalogue Raisonné. Lausanne & Paris: La Bibliotheque de Arts,  in 2 volumes.)
Is this a case where there are more aliens under attack by the Brits in their attempt to expand their already dominant position on the world stage? Could it be that Sotheby’s and Christie’s, the two firms at the top in the ever-increasing auction-house dominated marketplace are attempting to shake loose a bit of the Wildenstein hegemony? The market for French paintings is likely the most important in the world at this point in history. Controlling the Impressionist market would of course be a substantial coup, the twin firms are already the only effective venue to get top dollar for any class of art; all they need now is to take control of the Impressionist expertise. Again, and particularly in British society, control over any market would be a system to favour the privileged few.
An interesting parallel can be drawn from the intentions of the late Durand-Ruel, at one time the most visible Paris art-dealer. He too was either, innocent, or indifferent to the implications of his actions when in the 1870’s “throughout his memoirs, [he] stressed that a dealer must always do what he could to protect the prices of his artists. Wherever possible he sought to obtain a monopoly of an artist’s oeuvre, buying up works from other dealers or collectors, and even ‘bidding up’ pictures at auction to prevent prices from falling.”[xxxvii] But how does this relate to more recent times; could this have been the situation where market control of an artist’s oeuvre was first orchestrated and the seed from which the modern art industry grew?
Beyond the networking ruse, there is a frightening new development that may threaten, even worse, the long-term health of the art-world. What are the consequences and risks of the new age of auction house domination; narrow focus on glamour artists (those that are recognizable as household names); bribing of nouveaux-riche into the bidding arena with near-limitless credit, and high-powered marketing? Not only are prices being driven up astronomically for a select group of artists, but also the appreciation of art on an equitable level is being forgotten. Clearly, many great artists are being neglected in order to fuel the narrowing market. Peter Watson espoused that, “as price levels have soared, the variety of painters and of schools achieving top prices has shrunk.”[xxxviii]
Most new collectors within this fray are largely unfamiliar with art, other than about the glamour artists. They make vanity purchases to please friends within a milieu that reeks of stock-market speculation. A crash in prices for those auction room darlings seems inevitable. And to add more fuel to the fire, suspicions over in-house bidding by some auction firms, and Sotheby’s credit policy that encourages unabashed participation in feverish bidding battles—caveat emptor—buyer beware! Even Jo Floyd in his financial report for Christie’s publicly recognized that such financial services “provide an undue influence on demand and create an artificial level for works of art,”[xxxix] When the sale of van Gogh’s Irises made a record price of $49 million in 1987: of every two dollars bid, “one was provided by Sotheby’s. Credit provided by the auction house clearly inflated the market—not to mention the $4.9 million buyer’s premium which was Sotheby’s cut on the deal.”[xl]
There must be a more vital concern here than a fiduciary one. This is of course the artificial direction of art scholarship caused by such marketing ballyhoo. And Martin’s declaration that everyone is “in each other’s pocket” should ring alarms about the potentially sinister results of such insider control. The 1990 bold comment by Christie’s George Walker, over credit-checks on clients should confirm the idea about the meshing of interests by key players: “When we do get a negative reference,” he admitted, “we usually alert Sotheby’s as well, and they do the same for us, for obvious reasons.”[xli] This sort of cooperation is far from what might be expected of ardent competitors in a fair market economy. With 90% of the entire auction business going through the twin-firms: including all of the important paintings, it appears that the art-world has a dilemma. The sometimes rocky but oft times yielding love affair between the twin firms reached its apex when over a fifteen-year period mid-century, they proposed to merge more than once.
What about the veil of secrecy that now helps those soothsaying art-experts who often protect each other from past error or indiscretion? A “community of experts” is one term bandied about. Will this shroud soon be drawn aside by scientific contributions and the use of forensic evidence? Understandably, there is a requirement to be conservative about the marriage of new information and traditional scholarship, so that wisdom can grow logically and avoid the pitfalls of suspect information; yet too much conservatism can also be destructive by virtue of its counterproductive nature, and particularly in the area of innovation and rediscovery of lost works of art.
In a CBC interview with Evan Solomon, Lewis H. Lapham, the writer and editor of the eminent Harper’s magazine theorized the existence in all societies of a hereditary ‘control group’, but questions this group’s self-awareness or commitment to the common good, ‘there is always going to be some kind of ruling class, or governing class, or possessing class, elite, what ever word you want to use; it is a question of what kind of elite, how self-aware, how engaged in the common good.’[xlii]
The self-interests implicit in Lapham’s statement are exemplified by the relation Duveen had to this ruling class. John Walker, former director of the National Gallery in Washington quotes what B.B. (Bernard Berenson) had divulged to him:
“I once gained from B. B. an insight into the source of Duveen’s influence… [B. B. had] placed a low but fair value on the picture [altarpiece by Cima da Conegliano]. To his amazement his valuation was discarded and a much higher sum paid. The owner of the painting was the Viscount d’Abernon, a life-trustee of the National Gallery in London, a former ambassador, and in the eyes of the British government a prestigious personality. At that time Duveen was plain “Sir Joseph.” A peerage was highly desirable.”[xliii]
What one might conclude here is that if you favour enough of the right people by supporting their cause, or in this case their painting, you might find yourself more eligible for accolades and possibly even a portentous title. It can also be concluded for obvious reasons, Britain with centuries of experience as a caste society has its ‘control group’ ever-working at its most efficient. So much so that its impact on operations and decisions go well beyond the borders of England to hold sway at: foreign universities; publishing houses; museums; law enforcement agencies, etcetera. Even Martin Butlin in his somewhat narrow field has had an impact on all of the above.
Under such circumstances one might ask: “Is there any commitment to the principal of noblesse oblige?” On Plato, F.M. Cornford wrote: “The ruler, from the Homeric king onwards, had been called the shepherd of the people [but] that these shepherds have commonly been less concerned with the good of their flock than with shearing and butchering them for their own profit and aggrandizement.”[xliv] Was it the group of Invisibles, holding court at the apex of British society that the Queen was referring to when she alarmed the talkative royal butler by saying: “Be careful Paul… there are powers at work in this country about which we have no knowledge.”
On a more intimate level, the respected altruist Bernard Berenson in old age gave an honest review of a man of many talents who was perhaps the most cultivated and influential docent of the twentieth century—himself: “So I cannot rid myself of the harassing feeling that I am at best, but a refined and affectionate cannibal… But I must define what I mean by cannibalism. I mean the use of anything alive, especially of our own species, and particularly any member of our own cultural group, solely for our own personal advantage, with no regard for their private interest and the common good of us all.”[xlv] This brutal self-portrayal not only illumines the dark side of human nature, it exposes the underpinnings of the art-world. As things exist today, the amateur art collector will surely be confounded by introspective blockades erected within this milieu by the ‘established order’, those that invariably possess a bit of the cannibal instinct.
As for our immediate focus, Rescuing Turner: apparently little has to do with Turner’s art, or for that matter, any artwork. It has to do with money, power, prestige, celebrity, politics, advancement, tourism; and more recently—social issues. And the way this is maintained is often a result of misinformation and deception by those working to maintain control, people who in large part do not fully appreciate the implications of their own actions as they carry out their preordained tasks as a cog in the proverbial wheel. Much of the system is not very well understood even by those who participate at the higher levels. It is a mere web of independent operatives doing their own thing, fulfilling their insular and largely chauvinistic goals. Things can be seen more as an amalgam of anti-cultural forces with much of the destructive fallout scattered upon the private collector, connoisseur, and all those that believe in art for art’s sake.
The root of the problem, or genesis of this mercenary-style patronage was likely first given ascension in the auspicious year of 1789 when the Prince of Wales proposed a toast for those at the annual Royal Academy dinner. It was directed to “Alderman Boydell, the commercial Maesenas,” and had been written by Edmund Burke and approved by Sir Joshua Reynolds. Morris Eaves wrote; that, of his day, “Boydell’s closest contemporaries were not old-style patrons and certainly not monarchs, but such new-style merchandisers as Josiah Wedgwood (1730-1795), men who were learning how to coordinate complex systems of production and marketing and who wore the mantle of patron the way defense contractors wrap themselves in the flag—as a business strategy.”[xlvi] The thrust of this movement was at the time clearly nationalistic and it served largely as the standard by which art is viewed up until the present day—as a source of currency both personally and nationally. Boydell’s Shakespeare Gallery and Bowyer’s Historic Gallery led the charge in “exploiting two veins of a burgeoning nationalism”[xlvii] and served as the marketing vehicle for much of the artistic production during the era. If it were not for print marketing as it was formulated in the late 18th century, surely Turner with his own print production in the following generation would have been much less successful—financially at least.
Sadly, no matter how desperate attempts are by budding fine art students are to separate money and influence-trading from their haloed ideal, they are likely doomed to failure. Immutable ‘human nature’ and its relation to the art-world must be the core focus of all effective discussion about art. In a very obvious way, from the creation of an icon, to the conservation of art-treasures, human nature vis-à-vis selfish possessiveness has been the compelling force in all sectors of the art-world.
Pious renderings in the name of the Almighty may come closest to charity, but alas, in the end, even this activity may anticipate a Godly reward. The raw truth in the modern art-world or otherwise is that there are biases and self-interested actions which sustain allegiances, alliances and patronage, and they are organized to gain money, influence, and power. Regrettably, the way in which the facts present themselves they leave very little hope for a solution short of social revolution and particularly in Britain. Why bother, one might ask? Perhaps in order to forsake injury to the soulful motive for collecting—that dispossessing selflessness of god’s sublime romance—the artwork itself.
 Henri F. Ameil (1821-1881), reclusive Swiss author who gained fame posthumously on the discovery of his ‘Journal of self-analysis’.
 This is a reference to the Republic of Plato wherein his support of “reason and humanity” is altruistic and would fairly encompass the human need for curiousity and emotion.
 At the time of the sale there were wild and harried suspicions voiced in the press about a conspiracy by German dealers to subvert the French art market completely.
 When Durand-Ruel died in 1922 he had 800 Renoirs and 600 Degas in his inventory (Manet to Manhattan p.211).
[i] Francis MacDonald Cornford, The Republic of Plato, “Oxford University Press, London, 1951), xxvi.
[ii] Ibid. 262-3.
[iii] The Westbridge Art Market Report (Westbridge Publications Ltd., Vancouver, BC, Vol. 27, No. 6, Oct/Nov. 2001), 1 and 7.
[iv] James Henry Duveen , Secrets of an Art Dealer, (E.P. Dutton & Co., Inc., New York, 1938), 247.
[v] Max J. Friedlander, On Art and Connoisseurship, (Bruno Cassirer, Publishers Ltd., London, 1942, translated from the authors manuscript by Tancred Borenius), 179-80.
[vii] Daniel Catton Rich, The Flow of Art, Essays and Criticisms of Henry McBride, (Athenium Publishers, New York, 1975), 34.
[viii] Max J. Friedlander, On Art and Connoisseurship, (Bruno Cassirer, Publishers Ltd., London, 1942, translated from the authors manuscript by Tancred Borenius), 168.
[ix] Hanna Kiel, The Bernard Berenson Treasury, (Methuen & Co. Ltd., London, 1964), 395
[x] John Costello, Mask of Treachery, (William Collins Sons and Co. Ltd., 1988), 244.
[xi] Robert Lacey, Sotheby’s—Bidding for Class, (Little, Brown & Company (Canada), 1989), 144,149, and 151.
[xii] Frank Herrmann, Sotheby’s, Portrait of an Auction House, (Chatto and Windus, London, 1980), xxv.
[xiii] Hugh Roberts, Negotiated Sales, Christie’s Review of the Season 1986, (Christie, Manson and Woods Ltd., Phaidon Christie’s Oxford, 1986), 12.
[xiv] James Henry Duveen, The Rise of The House of Duveen, (Alfred A. Knoff, New York, 1957), 73-4.
[xv] Morris Eaves, The Counter-Arts Conspiracy: Art and Industry in the Age of Blake, (Cornell University Press (Getty Grant Program assistance), Ithaca and London, 1992), 25.
[xvi] Ibid, 31.
[xvii] Frank Herrmann, Sotheby’s, Portrait of an Auction House, (Chatto and Windus, London, 1980), 269.
[xviii] Pierre Assouline, An Artful Life, A Biograhy of D.H. Kahnweiler, 1884-1979, (Grove Weidenfeld, New York, translation Charles Ruas 1990), 155.
[xix] Ibid. 346.
[xx] Peter Watson, From Manet To Manhattan, (New York: Random House, Inc., 1992), 302.
[xxi] Pierre Assouline, An Artful Life, A Biograhy of D.H. Kahnweiler, 1884-1979, (Grove Weidenfeld, New York, translation Charles Ruas 1990), 247.
[xxii] Walter Thornbury, Life of J. M. W. Turner, R.A., (Hurst and Blackett, Publishers, London, 1862), vol. 2, 51-2.
[xxiii] Pierre Assouline, An Artful Life, A Biograhy of D.H. Kahnweiler, 1884-1979, (Grove Weidenfeld, New York, translation Charles Ruas 1990), 111.
[xxiv] Peter Watson, From Manet To Manhattan, (New York: Random House, Inc., 1992), 209-10.
[xxv] Peter Watson, From Manet To Manhattan, (New York: Random House, Inc., 1992), 208.
[xxvi] Pierre Assouline, An Artful Life, A Biograhy of D.H. Kahnweiler, 1884-1979, (Grove Weidenfeld, New York, translation Charles Ruas 1990), 128.
[xxvii] Pierre Assouline, An Artful Life, A Biograhy of D.H. Kahnweiler, 1884-1979, (Grove Weidenfeld, New York, translation Charles Ruas 1990), 4.
[xxviii] Ibid, 32-3.
[xxix] Ibid. 96, letter, Kahnweiler to Manolo, July 9, 1923.
[xxx] Pierre Assouline, An Artful Life, A Biograhy of D.H. Kahnweiler, 1884-1979, (Grove Weidenfeld, New York, translation Charles Ruas 1990), 333.
[xxxi] Robert Lacey, Sotheby’s—Bidding for Class, (Little, Brown & Company (Canada), 1989), 256.
[xxxii] Robert Lacey, Sotheby’s—Bidding for Class, (Little, Brown & Company (Canada), 1989), 256.
[xxxiii] Frank Herrmann, Sotheby’s, Portrait of an Auction House, (Chatto and Windus, London, 1980), 276.
[xxxiv] Frank Herrmann, Art at Auction, (editor Joan A. Speers, Sotheby Parke Bernet Publications Ltd., 1980), 12.
[xxxv] Suzanna Andrews, Bitter Spoils, (Vanity Fair magazine March 1998), p 255.
[xxxvi] Ibid. 251.
[xxxvii] Peter Watson, From Manet To Manhattan, (New York: Random House, Inc., 1992), 83.
[xxxviii] Ibid. 475.
[xxxix] Peter Watson, From Manet To Manhattan, (New York: Random House, Inc., 1992), 385.
[xl] Robert Lacey, Sotheby’s—Bidding for Class, (Little, Brown & Company (Canada), 1989), 259.
[xli] Peter Watson, From Manet To Manhattan, (New York: Random House, Inc., 1992), 19.
[xlii] Evan Solomon, Hot Type, (Canadian Broadcasting Corporation, CBC Apr 15 2001)
[xliii] John Walker, Self-Portrait with Donors, (Little, Brown and Company (Canada) Limited, 1974), 295 and 297.
[xliv] Francis MacDonald Cornford, The Republic of Plato, “Oxford University Press, London, 1951), footnote, 23.
[xlv] Bernard Berenson, Sketch for a Self Portrait, (A Midland Book, Indiana University Press, Bloomington, 1958), 29-30.
[xlvi] Morris Eaves, The Counter-Arts Conspiracy: Art and Industry in the Age of Blake, (Cornell University Press (Getty Grant Program assistance), Ithaca and London, 1992), 38.
[xlvii] Ibid. 37.