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Defregger or not Defregger – that is the question Worthologist Christopher Kent was asked at Treasures from the Attic, a recent fundraising event in Manassas, Virginia. Franz Von Defregger was an Austrian painter and one of Hitler’s favorites artists. He was also known as Franz Jacob von Defregger. Defregger was born in 1835 and died in 1921.

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Maybe you, too, were one of those nerdy kids that felt an affinity for walking through restored or reconstructed historic villages. Peering into history while wearing a tricorn hat and jabbering on about the Elizabethan influence on Colonial domestic dwellings while eating a plate of apple pandowdy and speaking in what you thought was an English accent.

I may have just revealed too much about my childhood. But I know there are others like me out there, so I feel relatively safe in exposing myself. At the drop of a hat if the opportunity arose to visit Colonial Williamsburg, Deerfield Village, Old Sturbridge or downtown Philly, I was ready and waiting beside the old Packard to make the trip.

Historic Richmond Town here I come

So it’s no surprise that when I was asked to do an appraisal and auction day in aid of the Staten Island Historical Society’s Historic Richmond Town, I jumped at the chance. If you’ve never been there and that sort of thing does something for you, go. Historic Richmond Town is New York City’s historic village and museum complex that includes the earliest Colonial period to the 19th century.

The town center is beautiful, and the preserved houses capture a part of history that is transporting. I’m waxing here. I’ll get to the point.

But where, oh where in the world is Historic Richmond Town?

My assistant and I arrived at the town center only after having our cabdriver pull over to ask directions. He was from Sri Lanka and not familiar with Staten Island—or maybe Manhattan island, for that matter.

The lady we approached in the middle of her brisk morning cardio-walk, lavender jogging suit, perfect hair and nails, started to give us directions. To a native, I’m sure they were simple. To a visitor, who admits to being directionally challenged, I was lost after the first “turn right.”

I surprised her by getting out of the cab, extending my hand with introduction and explanation, asking her name—it was Delores—and would she be willing to be kidnapped and take us to the town center as time was not on our side. I assured her that our driver would bring her back to her house. “Sure,” she said. She made a call to her husband to keep breakfast warm, and we became new best friends as we chatted the distance across Staten Island.

Helping to raise funds

My part in this event was to assist in raising money for Historic Richmond Town. Saturday would be spent doing appraisals, x-amount per item, then a big auction on Sunday. The volunteers were well organized, people had been given numbers and were patiently waiting in line, and there must have been about 100 all eager and clutching items of various shapes and sizes.

I heard, as I appraised, wonderful stories about found items. Dumpsters in Manhattan still being the best location for finding treasures. I was looking and appraising with a lift to the spirit that things could still be found in unlikely places when an elderly couple came up to the table.

Framed fragment

Could it have been possible that the Fezziwigs, the couple from Charles Dickens’ “The Christmas Carol,” had popped off the page of the book and appeared in front of me? There they stood, rosy and round, cheerful and lit from within with an infectious joy and wonder that about knocked me over. They giggled and jostled as they unwrapped what appeared to be, by the size and shape, a painting.

As I studied it, I asked the stock questions of where did you find this, inherit it, buy it.

“We inherited it from an aunt who was a Carmelite nun living in a convent in town, Manhattan.” Interesting.

“Where, I wonder, did she get it?”

“From her mother who brought it over from Naples at the turn of the century.”

“Apparently,” they added, “she rolled it up and brought it over in her willow trunk. We had it framed when we inherited it.”

Pans pipes and nymphs are nun-cell no-nos

The Carmelite nun was not allowed to have decoration in her convent cell and certainly nothing as frivolous as this. What I was holding was a fragment of a painting, meaning a portion of the original painting, that had been cut down from the original. The portion that I was holding was about 24-inches square and consisted of a wild, pastoral scene at the edge of densely wooded forests with jutting rocks upon which nymphs and shepherds danced and played Pan pipes.

Stylistically, it was clearly 17th/18th century, and the condition was excellent. I had a gut feeling that I knew who had painted it. But where was the rest of the painting?

“Well,” the Fezziwegs said, “that’s an interesting story in and unto itself.”

At this point, there were about 40 people waiting to have items appraised, and my assistant was giving me the hairy eyeball. I desperately wanted to hear the rest of the story and suggested that the couple come back later and tell me about it.

“No,” 25 of the 40 people said in unison. “We want to hear the story.” The horde crowded the table and waited expectantly. The Fezziwegs were thrilled by the attention.

Four sisters not playing nice

Well, it seems that there were four sisters and one item that they each wanted to take with them that had any value from Naples to New York—the painting.

Months before the trip, they started jockeying for ownership of the piece, beseeching their parents to part with the painting that they had grown up with. The parents vouchsafed no knowledge of how they had gotten the painting, although the Fezziwegs said that it was in exchange for something else. Bit of a shadow there sounding like magic beans and a cow.

Days before the sisters were about to leave, the decision as to whom was getting the painting had yet to be made.

“But,” I said, “they were all coming to New York. I assume they were going to be living there together.”

No, they would dock there, and each was going off in a different direction.

Daddy takes, sort of, Solomonic action

At this point, the bickering had reached a head. The father, exasperated, took the painting off the wall, out of the frame, off the stretcher and proceeded to cut the painting into four equal pieces, handing each of his daughters a square. Horrifying—but amazing.

On the journey over, the sisters had a complete falling-out, blaming each other for the rash action of the father. When they docked, each gave the other the distinctive digital gesture in the vernacular of Naples and went their own way, painting fragments in tow.

“Why don’t you call the relatives and get the pieces back,” someone in the crowd asked, “and then put them all together?” Good thought.

“Well, the sisters never made peace, and even though we know where the relatives live, no one has spoken to each other in years,” Mr. Fezziwig explained.

I told the couple that trying to reunite the pieces was a great idea because, even cut apart, this might be a valuable painting. I asked to examine their fragment in a laboratory setting. I also urged them to contact the various owners of the other fragments and negotiate getting them back. Contact information was exchanged, and to my surprise, the couple handed over the painting to my safekeeping.

Forensics weigh in

With the weekend over, I took the painting to a forensic lab in D.C. My feeling was that the painting was late-17th century and was done in the style of Salvador Rosa, the artist on whom I had done undergraduate work.

Rosa is known, in some circles, as a not a first string but second-string Italian Baroque painter. His works were considered by his contemporaries and by art historians as flamboyant and sublime. His landscapes are both wild and turbulent. His historical and allegorical paintings, with a de’ Medici as a patron, were infused with a vitality and directness that defined in your face in 17th-century terms.

The thought that this fragment could be attributed to this master of the theatrical was beyond exciting to me. It was not until Rosa reached the age of contrition, which was early as he died relatively young, that he produced some of the most poignant religious-themed paintings.

The tests from the D.C. lab confirmed that the pigment and canvas were, in fact, 17th century, the stretcher new and that we could possibly have a Rosa or at least an “in the school” or a studio copy. I contacted the Fezziwigs, told them the news and asked them to please begin the arduous work of contacting the relatives. They already had. One of the quarters was being shipped as we spoke.

Experts agree—almost

To cut to the chase, within six months, I had all the pieces, one being sent to me in a paper-towel roll. With the permission of the owners, I took the fragments to a conservator who began the process of literally piecing the painting together.

Within another six months, the painting was intact and exquisite. I had contacted some of my colleagues in the U.S. and England to have a look at the painting. This confab caused some professional-ego feathers to fly, but in the end, there was a 99.9-percent consensus that it was a Salvador Rosa.

With the consent of the disparate Fizziwig clan, I had an independent brokerage firm negotiate the auction details and put the painting up for auction. End result was $20,000 for the sale of the painting and a family I think is now reunited, although there was some grumbling.

– Christopher Kent is a member of the WorthPoint board of advisers and director of evaluations for WorthPoint. He is also an antiques and collectibles generalist, fine-arts broker and president of CTK Design.

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In art, antiques, and collectibles headlines: A legal dispute over the work of outsider artist Martin Ramirez, Damien Hirst’s unlikely new subject, another lackluster sale at Sotheby’s and a Canadian raising money to purchase his father’s WWII medals. Also: Ireland’s most famous cathedral sells its clock, and the Little Mermaid finds herself in the middle of controversy.

From The Guardian (UK):
Family fight to win back art of ‘insane’ genius

A dispute over the legal ownership of works by late artist Martin Ramirez has emerged as his works continue to be popular with collectors and attract high bidders at auction well after his death in 1963. Long ignored by the powers-that-be in the art world, Ramirez is now perhaps the best-known “outsider” artist. He suffered from metal illness for most of his life and created art while in mental hospitals. Ramirez gave away the majority of his paintings while a patient. The artist’s family halted a sale of his work at Sotheby’s recently and still contends that because of his mental illness, Ramirez was not legally competent to give away his art—thus, his collection belongs to them.

From The Guardian (UK):
Sienna Miller smokes, cries and smears herself in blood in Hirst’s macabre video

Sienna Miller has little in common with diamond-encrusted skulls and embalmed sharks, but she’s the latest to take direction from artist Damien Hirst. The British actress appears in a music video for a band called the Hours, and Hirst, a friend of the band, served as art director. The Guardian has a clip of the video, which includes Miller smearing herself with cow’s blood. Yummy.

From The New York Times:
A Dreary Night for Contemporary Art at Sotheby’s

Sotheby’s contemporary art sale on Tuesday night was evidence once again that the art market is on the wane. In a sale packed with works from blue-chip artists like Jeff Koons, Ray Lichtenstein, Damien Hirst, Cy Twombley, Yves Klein, Ed Ruscha, Robert Rauschenberg and Donald Judd¬, almost a third of the lots went unsold. Most that did sell ended up going for well below estimates, the lone exception being a 1999 John Currin painting that sold for a record $5.4 million (est. $3.5–$4.5 million).

From CTV (Canada):
Son hopes to buy father’s naval medals at auction

The son of a Canadian World War II hero is asking his fellow countrymen to chip in to help bring back his father’s war medals to Canada. John Simmons has set up a Web site for people to donate to a fund to buy the collection of medals when they go up for auction Nov. 18 in England. His father, Ted Simmons, was a heavily decorated war hero who was the subject of the film “Corvette K-225,” starring Randolph Scott. Ted Simmons moved to England, and upon his death in 1988, the collection was left to John’s half-sister, who is now putting the medals—worth about $40,000 Canadian—up for auction. John believes the collection should return to his father’s homeland as they are a piece of Canadian history.

From Kuntsford Guardian (UK):
Irish cathedrals’ antique clock comes to Plumley

A clock created for two cathedrals in Dublin, Ireland, is now in Plumley, England. Thought to be more than 100 years old, the 6-foot tall clock was originally made in the United States and made its home at Christ Church Cathedral and St. Patrick’s Cathedral, churches that share clergy quarters in Dublin. Coppelia Antiques bought the clock, which the company says is such a remarkable piece that it could probably sell for “tens of thousands of pounds.”

From The Art Newspaper:
Row over Little Mermaid move

Danes are generally thought to be laid-back people—that is, until you try to move one of their beloved national landmarks. The Little Mermaid sculpture, based on a Hans Christian Andersen’s story, is slated to be the main attraction at the Danish Pavilion at Expo 2010 in Shanghai. Conservative politicians, along with heirs of the sculptor, are not in favor of the temporary move. The Little Mermaid is one of Copenhagen’s most popular tourist attractions, as well as a national symbol.

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Dale Chihuly has singularly defined the medium of fine art glass. His blown glass is marked by intense, vibrant color and flowing lines. Sandy Sardella, of Pismo Fine Art Glass, shows some of the beautiful and diverse Chihuly pieces in her Denver gallery.

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Not too many years ago the automobile was considered the work of madmen, determined to corrupt the morals of our society, not to mention upset the enterprise of the blacksmith, the horse breeder and the harness maker. (They weren’t far from the truth.) It is difficult for the current generation to understand how the automobile caught the world’s imagination.

The artist with his canvas was best to capture the new found exciting event. No one artist was able to capture the excitement better then Ernest Montaut of Paris, France. Ernest Montaut, artist and lithographer, was the first to mass produce automobile art. Not only were his lithographs sold in Europe, but Motor Magazine of the United States used some of his images, in printed form, as inserts in some of their early issues.

Pictured is a 1908 lithograph showing an early race car with a blue bird on the righthand corner of the lithograph. These, like so many early lithographs, fade quickly if not properly displayed, always away from direct sun light.

The value depends upon the condition, but his lithographs sell for around $250-$350.

Prosper d’Épinay (French, 1836-1914) was born to aristocratic parents who emigrated from France to
the island of Mauritius, then governed by England. His strong connection to England is reflected in his consistent participation at the Royal Academy from 1865 to 1881. Although trained and educated in France, Prosper d’Épinay also maintained a studio in Rome (1864 -1912), where he became a close friend of Mario Fortuny and Henri Regnault, and helped the young Falguière. His career as a society portraitist was fostered by the Princess of Wales and Czar Alexander III.

Prosper d’Epinay had, for a long time, been preoccupied with the theme of Joan of Arc, painstakingly researching her life in libraries and studying the correct period amour and swords. It took him thirty years to realize his dream, towards the end of the century when his health was beginning to fail. First was the equestrian Jeanne d’Arc avant l’attaque in 1897, followed by the intensely powerful standing figure of the female saint, holding her sword in front of her, lost in prayer. Roux-Foujols records that an edition of only twelve of the equestrian Saint Joan were cast, by the lost wax process, of which number 12, dated 1898, is in the artist’s family collection. Both figures were cast by Nisini, the famous Roman foundry that experimented with Renaissance lost wax casting techniques.

Aubrey Vincent Beardsley was born in Brighton on 21 August 1872 and early showed artistic ability, acting and playing in concerts with his sister Mabel and producing drawings of recognized merit. The Beardsley family’s means were modest, and by 1888 Aubrey had quit school to work as a clerk. At the age of nineteen Aubrey Beardsley embarked on a career as an illustrator, and with the encouragement of Pierre Puvis de Chavannes in France and Joseph Pennell in England he quickly made a name for himself. His fame was ensured with the publication of the Dent edition of Malory’s “LE MORTE DARTHUR” in 1892, and by the following year the “Beardsley boom” was in full flower.

In 1894 Beardsley became the art editor of ” THE YELLOW BOOK” under the general editorship of Oscar Wilde, but his advancing tuberculosis and Wilde’s arrest put an end to that satirical periodical before 1895 was out. Beardsley’s increasingly poor health forced his move from health resort to health resort, but under the patronage of André Raffalovich he continued, despite severe difficulties, to produce his drawings. In 1896 alone he created numerous illustrations for “THE SAVOY, THE RAPE OF THE LOCK”, and “LYSISTRATA”. During 1897 Aubrey Beardsley’s health continued to decline as serious work became increasingly difficult and his creative output dwindled. His death occurred at Menton, France, on 16 March 1898.

http://www.antique-appraise.com/fourfreedoms.jpg

Norman Rockwell’s Four Freedoms series was first published in The Saturday Evening Post in 1943. The Post published the paintings as a series after the United States government declined it. The posters were such a huge success that the United States government changed its mind and the Office of War Information later issued the series as posters as an incentive for War bond purchasers.The original “Four Freedoms” paintings were taken on a Bond raising tour covering sixteen American cities, allowing almost a million and a quarter people were able to see the paintings in person. The more than $130 million dollars worth of bonds sold by the Four Freedoms Tour helped shorten World War II.

Mike Wilcox

Wilcox & Hall Appraisers

The famous Venini glassworks was established in 1921 by Paolo Venini on the island of Murano near Venice. A large glass industry already had existed there for centuries, transforming quartz silica and other common materials into three-dimensional art as well as everyday items. But Murano glass had become predictable and commercial.

Venini wasn’t a craftsman; he didn’t blow glass, but he revolutized the way glass was created, marketed and sold.

Venini extended Modernist trends beyond architecture and painting into glass art with dazzling designs that have been the subject of several museum exhibitions and Venini glass still seems fresh today.

His studio’s designs from the 1930s-1950s are especially collectible. While you can find bowls and other simple pieces for $2,000, a tall 1950s-era vase will be valued as high as $17,500. Rare vintage pieces attributed to specific Venini designers now approach $100,000.

Venini visited Venice as a soldier during World War I and the city made a deep impression on the young man drawing him back after the war. His forbearers had been glass-makers, but Paolo Venini was trained as an attorney. He invested in an existing glassworks with antique glass dealer Giacomo Cappellin, but by 1925 the partnership had dissolved and Venini was pursuing a strikingly independent course.

He adopted the French fashion industry’s approach of using designers to create individual styles and lines of glass. Most had never worked in glass, but were painters, architects and other artists who brought fresh ideas to the island. He liberally encouraged them to experiment with new design concepts and new glassmaking techniques. At the same time, Venini insisted that his designers collaborate closely with Murano’s expert glassblowers and other artisans.

He also reached out to a wider audience and new markets and he regularly entered his glassware in major exhibitions throughout Europe.

Distinctive Venini lines are associated with particular designers and art directors including Napoleone Martinuzzi, Carlo Scarpa and Fulvio Bianconi and serious collectors pursue their work.

Napoleone Martinuzzi

Originally a sculptor, he was the art director from 1925 to 1931. Martinuzzi’s designs are notable for their intense colors and originality – glassworks like Vetro pulegoso (bubble glass rendered opaque by millions of bubbles), Pasta vitrea (glass paste), and Incamiciato (double layered colored glass).

Carlo Scarpa

His daring designs became a Venini trademark. He left the glassworks shortly after World War II and became one of the 20th century’s notable architects. He developed glass manufacturing techniques such as “a murrine” that employed small glass patches and designs with ribboned, corroded and milky surfaces. His son developed one of Venini’s signature geometic lines, “Occhi” (eyes), which feature blobby circles within rectangles.

Fulvio Bianconi

Bianconni was an illustrator who renewed the company’s postwar fortunes. His most creative period was in the 1950s when he produced some flamboyant designs, such as the famous “Pezzato” (patches) and “Fazzoletto” (handkerchief) vases.

All true Venini pieces are etched with identifying stamps. These have changed from decade to decade, but they are widely cataloged and make the works easily identifiable. They include the Venini name, the designer’s name, ID numbers and other marks.

Venini managed the enterprise with great verve until his death in 1959. In the 1980s the Venini family sold the glassworks and now it is owned by Royal Scandinavia. Many original designs have been reissued, but if you can afford it, go for the vintage pieces.

Their limited availability only increases their value. And, the older ones were made in charcoal furnaces. Many collectors believe they have a special beauty that pieces fired in modern gas kilns cannot match.

To begin collecting, educate yourself on all aspects of Venini glass.

The Internet is a good place to start. Visit the Venini site for a list of museums with Venini glass.

Click here for the Venini site.

Look for the glass displays at major museums including the Corning Museum of Glass, The Metropolitan Museum of Art, the Victoria and Albert Museum in London.

Follow the glass sales at major auction houses.

Read books by glass experts; such as “Italian Glass: Murano-Milan, 1930-1970″ by the Kunstmuseum director Helmut Ricke and the glass scholar Eva Schmitt.

Always buy from a reputable dealer or gallery and be sure that you have a certificate of authenticity with the production date for your purchase.

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At the DHL All-Star FanFest in NYC, WorthPoint’s Dan Borsey visits the Thomas Kinkade booth. Kinkade’s painting of Yankee Stadium has been valued at $1million. Dan the Man in the WorthPoint Van also examines the autographs of the great baseball personalities on the gigantic FanFest ball.

More of Dan the Man in the WorthPoint Van’s DHL FanFest videos:

• Commiserating & Celebrating with the Fans

• “Take Me Out to the Ballgame” Contest at FanFest

Reporter – Dan Borsey
Videographer/editor – Matt Kohn

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