I was brought in as guest host when Tony decided on some other career ventures and I eventually took over as host with a run for almost eight years. I used Tony’s book, which was a guide to buyers coast to coast, with more than 2,200 categories and 1,000 expert buyers, to help callers first identify what it was they had, appraise the piece based on current buying market trends, and then shoot them to the right buyer, forearmed and forewarned. I instructed people how to look at their items, taught them, through specific instruction how to identify specific marks, styles, points of construction, and, basically give them the tools that would make them experts at least in this one particular area.

I met a man who had nothing for me to appraise but told me about the antebellum house, like this one, that he was moving from a small town near Birmingham onto a plot of land that his family has owned since before the Civil War.

I was invited by an affiliate network to do an on-site broadcast and appraisal day in Alabama. While appraising at a large multi-dealer antique mall there, I met Ron, who had nothing for me to appraise but told me about the antebellum house that he was moving from a small town near Birmingham onto a plot of land that his family has owned since before the Civil War. He told me all about the house; large, framed and formerly owned by a pair of spinster sisters. The sisters—there originally had been three but one had died many years ago of tuberculosis—had been prominent Deb’s. Ron also mentioned something about some secret rooms and the sister dying in the house. They had inherited the house from their widowed father and had been left, apparently, comfortably well off, judging by the condition of the house when Ron bought it. The last surviving sister, dying in her 90s, had willed the house to some obscure cousin—we’ll call him Junior—who feigned indifference to the white elephant and put it immediately on the market it after auctioning off the contents for a small fortune, I heard later through the grapevine, down in New Orleans.

Ron told us how he had had the pillars removed, the structure secured, and then all the excitement about it being lifted onto the huge flatbed that took it the 10 miles to the new site. He explained about the difficulties, bureaucratically, to get all the paperwork accomplished in order to complete the task, describing how it had taken months to clear the route and have the power lines taken down, the timing the move across a railroad track, what had to be done to the former site, etc, etc. Not knowing what was involved in the process, I was both impressed by his purpose and determination to complete both the task and the vision that he had. Having wrapped up my weekend in Alabama, I then returned to Virginia.

Weeks later I received a call from Ron on the show. It was one of those “remember me” calls. Well of course I remembered him. I filled in the listening audience with Ron’s story and he began to tell the update. The house had been delivered, secured onto its new foundation, columns put in place and the plumbing and wiring had started to be installed. Apparently, when the electrical contractor was putting in the new wiring they ran into a snag: They had too much new line and nowhere to put it, Ron explained. When running the line on the second floor, they ran into a wall. Based on the square footage, this wall, which terminated at the end of a hallway, should have not existed. I immediately suggested he should start rapping on the walls, not to exorcize demons but to listen to see if there was a portion of the hallway that had been closed off, or better yet, to go outside and just look at the structural design of the house.

I was wrapping up the show when Ron called back. “I was knockin’ all over the back hallway wall and you’re right; I went out side and took a long look at the house, came back in, figured where, and hit a hollow sounding spot. I did the most logical thing, I got out the sledgehammer and starting to knock into the wall and you won’t guess what I found.”

I needed no prodding to ask, “What?”

“A doorway. A closed-off, locked doorway. And you’ll never guess, the key was in the lock.”

“Yes.” I say. Now, I know I’m a Southerner by adoption with old, old Yankee roots, and I’m used to the more relaxed pace of the South, but this was getting ridiculous.

“Should I open the door?” Ron asks. Should I open the door! I’m thinking, “No, Ron, don’t open the door leave us all in suspense. Of course open the door!”

“Open the door Ron,” I shout down the line. This is live radio, and dead air is dead in the water. My producer is screaming in my ear through the headphones that she has 70 callers all saying, open the damned door. We all hear more wall being knocked away, the phone being dropped, the sledgehammer bashing through plaster and lathe, then, collectively, we exhale as we hear Ron trying to turn the key in the lock, we hear a snap and hear Ron push open the door.

“Holy expletive! You are not going to believe this.”

What? What? What? We (me and the radio audience) are collectively chanting, like the Greek chorus. Dead silence.

“Ron, you still there?”

“Yeah, I’m here.”

“So, talk to us Ron,” I say, trying to remain calm.

“I’m standing in a tiny apartment; this must be the secret rooms I heard about. There’s a little kitchenette and there’s a little bedroom and bathroom right off it, and you’re not going to believe this…”

I am willing to believe anything at this point. “What, Ron?”

A Tiffany Studios acorn pattern fractured glass lamp.

“The rooms are intact. Now, I had this house moved 10 miles and raised onto a new foundation, but everything is in its place. I mean, the table is set. I mean set with linen and dishes and silverware and there’s a newspaper folded on the table like someone was going to sit down to breakfast. And the bed is made and the linens folded down. There’s a lot of stuff in here, good stuff, I mean, silver and crystal and a Persian rug on the floor and the furniture is all good and real old and, damn, if that isn’t what looks like a Tiffany lamp on the bedside table, and there’s a Tiffany, I’m sure it is, writing set on this little table that looks French and the walls are covered with prints and paintings, and there’s an unbelievable small chandelier hanging here in the bedroom. The bathroom’s crammed with silver; there’s a silver vanity set and a big silver mirror is hanging above the sink. Well, I think it’s silver; it’s kind of tarnished like all the other silver.”

An antique Bakshaish Persian Runner Rug.

Ron comes up for air. “I just can’t believe this.”

You guess it; we have to go into commercial and then wrap up the show, and we’re out of time.

“Shelly,” I say (Shelly was my producer), “get Ron’s telephone number. I’ll talk to him after we wrap up.” Two minutes to close the show, and I promise the audience that absolutely we will continue this conversation with Ron next week. And then we’re off the air.

I get Ron on the phone. “Ron, you okay,” I ask.

“Yeah, I just can’t believe this.”

“Ron, go to the newspaper and tell me the date.”

“What?”

“The newspaper, tell me the date.”

“It’s a copy of the Atlanta Constitution, and it’s dated 1938. You think these rooms have been closed up since 1938?”

The practical side of me kicks in. “Ron I want you to photograph the rooms. I want you to take detailed shots of the items in the room, I want you to take an inventory of the rooms and then I‘m going to call this appraiser I know in Atlanta to come and give you a full appraisal. Ron, you still with me?”

“Yeah,” he says, other worldly.

“And, Ron,” I continue, “keep mum about this. I know that you will want to tell everybody but my gut is telling me you should keep a lid on this. Promise me you will?”

“Sure,” he says.

I congratulate Ron on this tremendous find again, he promises that he will call next week and before I ring off to call the appraiser, out of nowhere, I say, “Ron, do me a favor. Turn to the obituary section of the paper and tell me if you see any familiar names there. Be careful with the paper.”

“Right,” he says.

There’s a moments silence and then Ron says, “I’ll be damned. I think this is the obit of the sister that died. Yeah, it is. ‘Miss Alicia F., aged 18,’ ” he reads, “ ‘succumbed on Tuesday, after a protracted illness of tuberculosis.’ There’s a whole bunch more about her daddy and his daddy. Yeah, and ‘she is survived by her father, Dr. Theodore F. and sisters Frederica and Zenobia.’ There’s an address, right, those were the people that used to own the house.”

Amazing. I ring off. I connect with my Atlanta appraiser, “Fred, you’re not going to believe this.” I tell all, give him Ron’s contact information and ring off with his promise to call Ron, get there pronto, and to give me a full report and tell him to keep this under his hat.

Late 19th century Meissen china plates with Blue Onion pattern.

Within 48 hours, Fred calls me. “Your guy has a fortune in here. The crystal is 18th century French, so is the furniture. The silver is Tiffany, all Tiffany, and there’s hundreds of pieces of silver. The rug in the bedroom is 19th century Persian and in mint condition and the kitchen gadgets are all vintage. I mean, I’m just walking around here stepping over my jaw. Oh yeah, and the china is 19th century Meissen and the kitchen table is the prettiest little French wine tasting table, the prints are all English and I swear this painting hanging over the bed is a little Romney.”

Sketch of Emma Hamilton,” by George Romney (1734-1802), believed painted between 1782 and 1784.

“Give me a bottom line, Fred,” I say.

“Just off the top of my head, I’d say that we’re looking at, at auction, easy, geez, a lot of money.”

Fred later reported that a closet within the small apartment was discovered and held shelves of silver by the “Paul’s,” Lamerie and Storr, the brilliant English 18th century silversmiths, and the finds continued when small boxes, in the same cupboard, revealed early Victorian jewelry, unset gemstones, and a strand of enormous South Sea pearls the color of pastel pink.

An antique Victorian, silver tea & coffee set by Paul Lamerie.

A seven-piece silver tea service in the Teniers pattern by Paul Storr.

The conservative estimate of the entire contents was appraised at $250,000. And, no, Ron did not take my advice about keeping a lid on the find. He leaked the discovery, confidentially, he thought, at the local watering hole that leaked it to the local rag, that leaked it to a major paper and I think there were some interviews on local and national TV.

An early Victorian Honeymoon pin in 10k yellow-gold with a tiny genuine ruby prong set in middle of flower.

A month later I’m back on the air and Shelly says, “It’s Ron from Alabama on the line.”

“Ron, how are you?”

“Well, Christopher, you’ll never guess.

“Guess what, Ron?”

“I’m being sued. You got it, by that little weasel, Cousin Junior. Says, he’s read all about it and he wants the contents of the hidden rooms back, he’s trumped up all kinds of allegations and he’s squealing all over the place.

“I never realized that when I turned the key and opened the door that I was pulling the lid off Pandora’s box and a bunch of toads were going to jump out.”

Instead of a good appraiser, I found him a good lawyer and all ended well… eventually.

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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Art Deco greeting card

You remember the days when a lady never went to church without a hat, gloves, handbag and matching shoes?

My mother was not the glamorous daughter. That label was deservedly bestowed on her elder sister, the statuesque, nearly 6-foot blonde, who could cause traffic accidents by merely crossing the street.

No, my mother was said to be classic, handsome and tailored. She did not, unlike her sister and mother, inherit the clothes gene. My mother’s ensembles were simple man-tailored suits, walking skirts with silk blouses and sensible shoes that were well made and usually considered a long-term investment and that went with everything.

Occasionally, she would step out of the box and attempt to glam-up her look. This would usually result in her muttering under her breath as she stood in front of her full-length mirror, “Lillian, you look like Mrs. Astor’s pet horse.” This remark would ultimately throw her into a frenzy of clothes changing, and she would happily return to her suits of choice.

The ‘boys’—no match for mother

I’m the youngest of four boys with a 13-year span between youngest and eldest. At any given time, and for many years, there would be six males, the boys, as we were always referred to, my father and his father, sitting around the dinner table. You would think, weighing in heavily on the male side, that we would dominate the scene. Not so, my mother was the overseer and would hold court at her end of the table.

We were instructed in dining etiquette, taught how to make pleasant conversation, encouraged to engage in opinions on politics, world events, cultural happenings and to avoid unseemly topics that were deemed inappropriate for dinner-table conversation. In short, under mom’s tutelage, we were well-schooled diplomats.

Don’t get me wrong, we were normal, or at least, normal enough. We all, the boys, sang in the Episcopal Church choir. This was not something that we did for fun or needed to do to fulfill our yearning for Anglican sacred music. Rather, we were paid professional singers, part of a men-and-boys choir that totaled more than 45 singers. We sang at two services a Sunday, the 9 and the 11 o’clock. This meant that we would have to be up early to drive the 40 minutes and arrive on time. Our choir mother, Mrs. Merkel, was a pill about punctuality. She could afflict you with frostbite with one glance if you arrived after final rehearsal had already commenced.

Father rushes, mother futzes

Shirts starched, shoes polished, suits pressed, ties, pretied so we could just slip them over our heads, would have been laid out the night before in readiness. My father would drag us out of bed, point us in the direction of the bathroom, the boys shared one, and disappear to make breakfast. My mother would then begin to lay out her clothes for the day. She’d hold one seemingly identical blouse up against suits that looked remarkably similar to the one before and deliberate on how to put together her outfit.

Meanwhile, we had breakfasted, and my father had gone down to the garage to rev up the Chrysler. He would pull it up to the house, and we would all pile in waiting patiently for mother to arrive. My father was one of those men of infinite patience whose quiet surface was rarely ruffled. Except, he hated to be late. We knew when dad’s patience was being tested when he started to hum some themeless, nameless tune. The humming started this particular morning as we waited for mom to arrive. Oh, and along with the humming, my father would gradually start revving the car by degrees by way of supposedly hurrying mom wordlessly along.

This Sunday happened to be Mother’s Day. My father had laid a gardenia corsage in its plastic excelsiored box by her breakfast place. We were to meet my grandmother, my mother’s mother, and her glam sister at the country club after church. I’m sure, knowing this, my mother was thrown into spasms of delight as she envisioned both mother and sister in creations by Dior or Chanel or Schiaparelli, with the perfect hats, high-heeled shoes with pointy toes, makeup and hair perfect, pearls with a scattering of diamonds, appropriate for the occasion, and scented with Shalimar and Chanel No. 5.

Dior clip earrings

Chanel heels

Schiaparelli hat

Mom threw on her original suit after changing it four times, slapped on her gold wristwatch, grabbed her handbag and in a streak of what could be called defiance and knowing that the fashion police would have something to say about it, recklessly slammed a cartwheel hat in pale lavender straw, trimmed with cabbage roses and matching lavender bow, on her head.

Mom rushed to the car while she pulled on her gloves and navigated the huge hat carefully into the car. My father, having seen her approach in the rearview mirror, made no comment as he pulled away from the house. We also made no comment as we stared at this confection that we had never seen before sitting on her head.

We had not even gotten to the bottom of the driveway when mom started to ask each of us what we thought of her hat. She started with the eldest and worked her way down to the youngest son sitting in the backseat. “Thomas, what do you think of my hat?” Tom, who was clueless, commented, “Fine.” “Raymer, what do you think of the hat?” My brother, Raymer, equally clueless, said it was OK. “Matthew, do you have an opinion?” “Ah, well,” was his reply. “Christopher, what do you think of my hat?” “Well, Mom, now that you mention it, I don’t really think it works with the suit.”

Early 20th-century card

With each answer, mom made no comment. My father, anticipating the question, reacted by speeding up the car, thinking that with the acceleration, he could dodge the question that he knew was going to be lobbed his way. “Raymer,” my dad was also Raymer, “what do you think of my hat?” My father, who invested heavily in candor, replied, “Frankly, Lillian, I think it looks like hell.”

The temperature noticeably dropped in the car. In a timbre that we boys recognized as “no nonsense” and pronounced in pear-shaped tones, my mother said, “Stop the car.” My father accelerated. “Raymer, stop the car.” Pretending not to hear, he, instead, intensely studied the road as if he was doing a quality-control check on the application of the white lines bordering his lane. With one quick motion, my mother pressed the window button, and as the window went down, she took the brim of the hat with her other hand and threw it out the open window. Without comment, she pushed the button again, and the window went up.

For the 30 minutes remaining in the trip, there was a silence in the car that could only be called cryptlike. My father was not a big laugher, meaning he was not the ha-ha, gusto type. Instead, when he laughed, the laugh would start with his shoulders beginning to shake. Then, the shake would travel the length of his body. By the time, we arrived at church, he could barely stand up he was laughing so hard.

1972 Royal Copenhagen Mother's Day plate

My mother was still silent. Ignoring him, she ushered us in the direction of the choir room. Then she disappeared. My father, thinking that she would drop us off and then proceed into the church as she had done for years, went in and sat in our pew. No mom. The organist began to play the prelude. No mom. The choir, fully dressed in cottas and cassocks, were gathering at the back of the church. No mom.

Just before the opening chords of the hymn were about to start, there was a muffled commotion that started at the back of the church where we were all congregated. The choir parted like the Red Sea, and there was my mother standing in the midst of us. On her hatless head was now a coronet of flowers, courtesy of the adjoining graveyard, consisting of lilacs, azaleas and mock orange that were woven into a halo and placed on the top of her head. With a poise and confidence not unlike a Pope dispensing indulgences or a blushing bride, she walked down the center aisle of the church and quietly took her seat, carefully avoiding the rubbernecking, smiling, and gawping stares she encountered on her way.

1924 Mother's Day card

My father took one look at her, and his whole body began to shake. He shook so hard that mom had to grab his arm for fear of his falling out of the pew into the aisle. She began to laugh, too, and her laughter was of the Wagnerian, Valkyrie type, starting low and working itself up into a crescendo. Soon the whole front of the church was laughing with them. The laughter spread down one side of the church and up the other. Meanwhile, the organist, known for his impish humor, had started playing “Here Comes the Bride” in response to mom’s march to the pew. This got the whole congregation laughing even harder, which was unheard of in an Episcopal church.

Hearing the laughter, the minister appeared and tried to shush the congregation. With the hilarity slightly subsiding, he asked my parents, in light of my mother seeming so bridelike, if they would like to renew their marriage vows. My parents, still laughing, looked at each other and said in unison, “Absolutely.” They sealed 27 years that day.

First edition Peanuts Mother's Day plate

– By Christopher Kent, 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.

Want to let your mother know how much you care? Send her WorthPoint’s “Happy Mother’s Day” video compiled from vintage postcards.

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1840 Japanese vase

Christopher Kent walked into the “Gray Goose,” a Charleston, S.C., junk shop piled with debris and dust. “There were flea-bitten, 1950s armchairs that should have been given a good burial,” Kent said. “It was the sort of place that makes you want to disinfect yourself when you leave, frankly, just my sort of place.”

But two small panels—no more than 3 inches by 10 inches—hanging on a back wall drew his attention. Kent took them to the rotund proprietor, who said, “Don’t you just love Japanese art?”

After a quick negotiation that brought the price for the pair down to $15 from $25, Kent walked out with two 17th-century Russian triptych panels worth about $1,000.

From the junk shop to international auction houses and major museums, Worthologist Christopher Kent has used that keen eye to spot value in everything from Japanese porcelain to Italian decorative arts and everything in between.

“I am a generalist,” Kent explained. “A generalist has the ability to walk into a room filled with items and be able to say something about every piece. There are really only a handful of people who can do that.”

Walking encyclopedia

How does one become a walking encyclopedia of antiques and fine arts?

For Kent, it started with his grandparents who were both ardent collectors—his paternal grandmother was a textile expert and his grandfather, her husband, a collector of American furniture. “These were serious collectors who would go without dinner or lunch to acquire a piece.” Kent said he inherited both their interest and their collecting “genetic flaw.”

At the age of 6, he started his own collection with an 18th-century Japanese porcelain bowl given to him by a family friend who was in her own right an avid collector. At 11, he made his professional appraisal debut with a collection of 18th-century English porcelain for America’s oldest auction house, Freeman’s in Philadelphia.

And so starting with American furniture, textiles and porcelain, Kent added layer upon layer of period and style to his repertoire. In college, where he studied art history and architectural history, Kent also acquired knowledge of 17th-century Italian furniture and decorative arts.

17th-century Italian armoire

(For more information on the pictured items, click on the images.)

Coming out of college, Kent’s plan had been to do museum curatorial work, only to run into some real-world truths. “I loved the collections, but I hated museum politics,” he said.

Kent continued gathering expertise—from museum collections, auctions and research and by asking questions of dealers and collectors. “You begin to make associations,” Kent explained, “about why this piece is similar to that, and about changes in taste, and what influences dictate trends.”

Museums have sought Kent’s eye and knowledge to help evaluate a broad array of pieces.
Among the institutions he has advised are the Cooper-Hewitt National Design Museum, the Metropolitan Museum of Art—both in New York City—the Philadelphia Museum of Art and the Textile Museum in Washington, D.C.

17th-century Italian chairs

In the 40 years he has been collecting, much has changed, Kent said, including the definition of an antique. “It used to be anything after 1860 wasn’t an antique, it was Victorian, and that was usually said with distain,” Kent said. “Then it was moved up to 1880 and then completely abolished.”

Art Nouveau, Art Deco and other well-designed and well-crafted styles became targets for serious collectors, and more and more collectors entered the market. “There is a lot of newly minted money, hedge-fund money,” Kent said.

Art Nouveau brooch

1920 Art Deco clown

Americana has gotten carried along on these waves, Kent said.

By the 1990s, a wrought-iron weather vane was selling in the millions, where a few years earlier the price tag would have been several thousand dollars.

1954 Hopalong Cassidy lunch box and thermos

In December 1992, Christie’s set a record for a lunch box with the sale of the Dudley Do-Right box and thermos for $2,200. It had cost $2.25 when it was new in 1962. But the kicker that changed the world, as far as establishing the world of collectibles, was the Matt Wyse sale in 1996 where the Superman lunch box circa 1954 sold for an unprecedented $11,500.

“That just changed the way people viewed the market,” Kent said. Once a major house auctioned something as modest as a school lunch box for big dollars, Kent explained, anything might be a valued collectible. “It was,” he said, “a transforming moment.”

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Skinner has specialized in Asian works of art for more than 20 years. This auction will offer fine furniture and decorative arts from Asia and the South Seas including Chinese, Korean and Japanese glass, pottery, netsuke, porcelain, lacquer ware, paintings, woodblock prints and textiles. The Skinner sale provides a cross-range of items both low and high for the discerning collector and dealer.

Asian works of art, particularly as the sales trends are dictating, are strong with contemporary 20th-century artists leading the sales records. (A recent Sotheby’s Asian art sale realized an 11 percent higher pre-estimate yield totaling sales of $89 million.)

Lot 46, a work by the “Van Gogh of Japan” and perhaps the most influential member of the Mingei movement in Japan, woodblock artist Munakata Shiko. It is titled “Goddess” and dated 1952. The woodblock is hand colored, signed and dated in pencil and includes the artist’s seal. The work is mounted as a scroll in a wooden box. The condition, coloration and impression are excellent. The estimate for the work is $4,000 to $6,000.

Munakata Shiko's "Goddess"

Lot 116 is a fine example of a miniature 16th-century Persian painting from the Safavid Empire (1501-1722). The signed painting depicts a “scene of courtly entertainment” and is executed in ink, jewel colors and gilt on heavy paper stock. The painting measures 9 inches by 5-1/2 inches and has an estimate of $400 to $600.

16th-century Persian miniature

Lot 149, a 12th-century celadon ewer is Korean from Korea’s Koryo period. It has a double-gourd form with thick sea-green glaze over a molded design of willow branches and lotus petals at the front with a glazed base. There are repairs to the handle and spout. The estimate for this excellent piece is $1,500 to $2,500.

Koryo celadon ewer

Lot 251, an 18th-century Turkish jeweled saber with a repoussé silver scabbard that includes designs of arabesques and trophy arms, hangers and basses of silver with Solomon’s star and a tughra (an imperial monogram) all set with diamonds, emeralds and rubies. The hilt, with a silver hand guard, is set with the same. The grip of Moghal style is pistol shaped made of white jade inset with a herringbone pattern in gold and set again with diamonds, emeralds and rubies. The watered steel blade of typical Turkish form is inlaid with gold and includes two inscriptions on either side. Estimate is $3,000 to $5,000.

Jeweled Turkish saber

Lot 483, an impressive red sandstone Image of Avalokiteshvara (the Buddha of Infinite Light) in standing position with princely jewels and robes. The image is 34 inches and Chinese, Sui to early T’ang period 7th century A.D. The estimate on this rare piece (rare for condition, subject matter and material) is $20,000 to $30,000.

Sandstone image of the Buddha

Lot 504 is a gilt-bronze image of the Buddha of the future Manjushri (Buddha of wisdom, doctrine and awareness, whose name translated from Sanskrit means Gentle Glory). It is 16th-century Tibetan. The surface is patinated and engraved with flower, clouds and an inset with coral, lapis lazuli, turquoise and pearls. The image is seated in the lotus position with hands in the Mudra of appeasement, 10 inches high with an estimate of $1,500 to $2,500.

Gilt-bronze image of the Buddha

– By Christopher Kent, 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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Of the hundreds of pieces of Asian porcelain, three stand out.

Lot 80 is a copper-red and blue porcelain “beaker” vase, a fine example from possibly the K’ang Hsi Dynasty. The vase bears no maker’s mark, stands 17-2/3 inches high and has an estimate of $800 to $1,000. It is conceivable that this piece is late-18th century.

"Beaker" vase

Lot 95, a Ch’ing Dynasty (1644-1912), blue-and-white porcelain “bottle” vase. An estimate of $1,500 to $2,000 positions this piece in the higher end of estimates and reflects the quality of decoration, shape and possible timeline of the late-18th century.

Ch'ing Dynasty porcelain "bottle" vase

Lot 129 may be considered the crowning pieces of the porcelain collection. These two armorial hexagonal chargers from the Yongzheng period, circa 1723, bear the arms of Charles Townshend, 3rd Viscount Townshend of Raynham Hall, Hertfordshire. His son went on to become chancellor of the exchequer during the reign of George III. Condition of the two pieces is remarkably good and has an estimate of $4,000 to $6,000.

Chinese armorial chargers

Lot 1231A, “Portrait of a Woman with Her Three Children” was painted by Ruth Garnett (English, late-19th-, early 20th-century) and appears, stylistically to be similar to her teacher, John Singer Sargent. The painting, oil on canvas, with no condition issues, measuring 88 inches by 54 inches, has an estimate of $2,000 to $3,000.

"Portrait of a Woman with Three Children"

The furniture in this particular sale is considered across the board with more stylistic attributions than period pieces. Two pieces that are of note are:

Lot 1152, an interesting English papier-mâché and ebonized tilt-top table. The 19th-century piece has a columnar pedestal with a square tapering down swept tripod base. It has a Victorian street scene that was possibly painted on at a later time. The estimate is $700 to $900.

19th-century tilt-top table

Lot 1117 is a fine example of a New England, Queen Anne mahogany desk-on-frame made mid-18th century. The desk, 41 inches by 33 ½ inches by 18 inches with a low estimate of $1,200 to $1,500, is designed in two parts. The slant-front upper case with hinged molded-edge lid and breadboard ends opens to a writing surface and fitted interior. Delicate cabriole legs support the frame, with a single long drawer, shaped apron, carved rosettes with scroll carved returns and terminating in spoon feet.

18th-century Queen Anne desk

The silver runs the gamut of Tiffany, Birmingham, sterling to plate, but Lot 397A is an interesting offering. The sterling-silver, coffee-and-tea service is Japanese made possibly for the European or American market and has an elegance of neoclassical design that sets it apart from the more usual offerings. This lot is a steal with a $1,500 to $2,000 estimate.

Japanese coffee-and-tea service

– By Christopher Kent, 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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Lot 114 and 115 are possibly the most pivotal pieces in the collection of Russian enamels. Lot 114 is a Russian silver-and-enamel tankard made circa 1900 with a clear maker’s mark of OV Chinnikov. The tankard stands just 7-and-a-half inches high and has an estimate of $5,000 to $10,000. Lot 115 is an extremely well designed lidded chalice or perhaps ciborium (a vessel to hold the wafer). Circa 1900, it bears the maker’s mark, Feodor Ruckert, a well-known and documented silver and goldsmith. The lid bears the Russian imperial double-headed eagle finial, and the body is in the teardrop-form panel. The chalice measures 13 inches high and has an estimate of $8,000 to $12,000.

Russian tankard, circa 1900

Ruckert lidded chalice

Lot 142 is a classic example of Philadelphia Georgian silver. Made circa 1790 by the well-known silversmith, Joseph Richardson Jr., the helmet-form creamer is decorated with a beaded edge and elaborate monogram above an incised floral garland. The creamer measures 7-and-a-quarter inches high and has a low estimate of $1,000 to $1,500.

Richardson creamer

Lot 150, a fine, museum-quality, New York silver tea or chocolate pot made by the well-known silversmith, Jacob Marius Groen, circa 1730. The pot is of the “lighthouse” form with an “onslow” thumb tab. Classically simple, this is a rare opportunity to own a piece by Groen. It is well worth its $12,000 to $18,000 estimate.

Groen tea or chocolate pot

Lot 292, the Hollingsworth Family Baltimore Album Quilt. This important quilt, 1884-1846, consists of 53 appliqué and patchwork blocks and contains 14 signatures of prominent northern Maryland families. The quilt measures 79 inches by 88 inches and has an estimate of $7,000 to $9,000.

Hollingsworth family quilt

Lot 366, a significant Delaware Valley Queen Anne walnut chest on frame, circa 1770. A fresh piece to the market, the chest on stand has a molded cornice that appears over five short and three long drawers resting on a frame that has a scalloped apron and cabriole legs terminating in trifid feet. This piece has a provincial integrity and is appropriately estimated at $6,000 to $9,000.

Queen Anne walnut chest

Lot 407 is the cream of the sale and an extremely rare opportunity to own a perhaps one-of-a-kind piece. It is a Simon Willard regulator banjo clock, circa 1805.The mahogany case encloses an eight-day, weight-driven works with a sweep hand and painted dial inscribed Simon Willard. The clock stands 52 inches. This clock is pictured in Sacks’ book “Good, Better, Best,” page 135. A similar Willard regulator clock without a sweep second hand is discussed in Diston and Bishops’ “The American Clock,” plate 283. The Willard clock has the deserved estimate of $18,000 to $25,000.

Willard regulator banjo clock

– By Christopher Kent, 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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The sale has an impressive offering of furniture and objects d’art, some of which have been carried over from its winter sale. The spring auction also contains a noteworthy selection of first-time paintings by important listed artists, upon which this preview concentrates.

Beginning with one of the most recognized names in the heavy-hitter category is:

Lot 291, a signed, oil-on-canvas landscape by Jean-Baptiste-Camille Corot (1796-1895). This painting depicts the “Souvenir de Saint-Servan.” It is in immaculate condition. The works of Corot make up the cornerstone of Impressionist collections in all major public and private collections. It is conceivable that it will well surpass the estimate of $25,000-$35,000.

Corot's “Souvenir de Saint-Servan”

Lot 294, a gem of a portrait by one of France’s leading mid-18th, early-19th century artists, Paul Prud’hon (1758-1823). The pastel-on-linen portrait, with the diminutive dimensions of 19¼ by 15¼ inches, depicts Mlle. Rey de Morande. The painting is unsigned but bears on the reverse the label, “Wildenstein Arte S.A. Florida 914, Buenos Aires,” with the artist’s name, title and medium and dimensions. Again, it is conceivable that the portrait will exceed its $15,000-$25,000 estimate.

Prud’hon's Mlle. Rey de Morande

Lot 295, stylistically one of the most frequently copied artists, Eugene Galien-Laloue (1854-1941) is represented by his watercolor and gouache-on-paper depiction of “Twilight Near the Hotel de Ville, Paris.” Signed on the lower left, the painting is going up with a $12,000-$18,000 estimate.

Galien-Laloue's “Twilight Near the Hotel de Ville, Paris”

Lot 288. Not usual to be represented at auction, but nonetheless exciting because of the infrequency with which his paintings are on the block, this blue-and-gray wash over pencil rendering of the “Queen Eleanor Cross, Waltham Cross, Middlesex” by Joseph Mallord William Turner (1775-1851) is once again an opportunity to invest in a leading artist’s work. The estimate for this signed, framed work is $12,000-$18,000.

Turner's “Queen Eleanor Cross, Waltham Cross, Middlesex”

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Don Kaufman, co-founder of KB Toys, chose the time to sell his toys with the same care he always exercised in buying them. When asked why he decided to part with the collection, he replied, “It’s time. I want to have as much fun selling the collection as I had in building it.”

His is an achievement that may never be duplicated and allows all collectors a once in a lifetime of buying opportunities. The collection is “a museum” of quality toys and will be offered over a series of eventful sales beginning March 19 and running through March 26. More than 1,447 individual lots will be presented.

In reviewing this sale, it bears repeating that each of the lots is superb. Here are but a few of the highlights of the show.

Lot 9, a rare Hubley revolving monkey cage wagon circa 1920. Considered the MOST elusive entry in the famed circus menagerie on wheels, this ultimate find depicts monkeys perched on a tree housed within a mesh cage, which revolves when the toy is pulled along. The colors are striking, painted in an orange body, extensive embossing in gold, red spoke wheels, black parade horses and red-suited driver. This is a factory showroom example. Provenance: the Perelman Museum Collection. Sixteen inches long, it is in mint condition. The estimate is $30,000 to 40,000 with a minimum bid of $15,000.

Hubley revolving monkey cage wagon

Hubley monkeys climbing a tree

Lot 46, a rare 19th-century Carpenter burning building. This remarkable toy building features an elaborate cast-iron façade with second-story balcony containing a standing figure at embossed fire flames. A fireman stands on the sidewalk with an extension ladder that can pulley him to the top. This wood-finished building is considered one of the most ingenious of early cast toys. The 17-inch-high toy is restored and assembled from original parts. Estimate: $12,000 to $15,000 with a $6,000 minimum bid.

Carpenter burning building

Closeup of Carpenter burning building

Lot 71 is a “Gala” sedan created by Lehmann, one of Germany’s finest toy makers. The large limousine with seated driver, done in white and blue with red piping, reads, “Gala” on the sides. It has disc wheels, is clockworks driven and is 12-and-a-half inches long. The clockwork spring is unraveled but working. It is in pristine condition with an estimate of $4,000 to $5,000 with a starting bid of $2,000.

Lehmann "Gala" touring car

Rear view of "Gala" touring car

Lot 178, an early French auto, circa 1900. This hand-painted, back-to-back seating, open auto is done in yellow with red striping. A forerunner of the open touring car, it is modeled after the first motorized vehicles. Its rear floorboard simulates the foldable models of the day. There are two headlamps, an added composition figure and a nickel-plated fender. The auto is 11 inches long. There was some repaint to reds and a repair to a lantern. The estimate for the remarkable toy is $4,000 to $6,000 with an opening bid of $2,000.

Early French car, circa 1900

Rear view of early French car

Lot 228, Tootsietoy boxed aerial offense toy number 5062. In its original, near-mint condition packaging, the set includes nine airplanes of varied colors. It features large trimotors and four smaller monocoupes, low-wing and high-wing models. It is 10-by-15 inches. Estimate: $1,500 to $2000 with a minimum starting bid of $1,000.

Tootsietoy boxed aerial offense set

Nine Tootsietoy planes

I encourage you to go onto the Bertoia site and view and participate in this once-in-a-lifetime sale.

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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The collection of 676 items opens the auction with the striking, singular designs of Mexican silver jewelry coupled with the luminous names that defined the unique pieces in the ’30s through the ’50s. Designers William Spratling, Antonio Pineda and Hector Aguilar highlight this important auction. Not to be outdone, the sale includes fine and important silver pieces by Tiffany, Gorham, Morgens Ballin, George Jensen, continental silver from Russia, Austria, France along with some interesting and highly desirable Georgian silver serving pieces.

Taxco, Mexico, was the leading center for exquisite silver jewelry design. And the unique interpretation by highly skilled designers lent an individual and singular interpretation to art nouveau and Art Deco second to none. Lot 71119, an obsidian and sterling-silver bracelet by Antonio Pineda, is a fine example. The estimate is $1,500 to $2,500.

Antonio Pineda obsidian and silver bracelet

Lot 71101, a bracelet by Hector Aguilar circa 1940 is Deco of the finest. The bracelet is fully hallmarked and designed with three balls alternating with squared planes and secured with a signature spring clasp. The estimate is $1,000 to $1,500.

Hector Aguilar Art Deco bracelet

One the highlights of the fine silver pieces is Lot 71523, a Martelé silver and silver-gilt loving cup. The loving cup has an undulating rim and silver gilt interior. The chased repoussé design consists of flowers caught up in sweeping lines between the handles with floral decoration rising from engraved leaf feet. According to Gorham where the piece was conceived in 1905, it took Peter Monsen 47 hours to make the cup followed by an additional 61 hours to chase the design, which was done by Paul Hansen. The estimated cost of the piece in 1905 was $150, but today the estimate is $25,000 to $35,000 with a minimum bid of $12,500.

Martelé silver and silver-gilt loving cup

Lot 71471 is an Indian warrior silver-gilt and enamel serving fork from Tiffany & Co., New York, N.Y., circa 1884. The serving fork is designed in the Indian pattern with enamel accents to the medicine dance figural terminal as well as inset within the geometric patterning on the bowl and stem. The minimum bid for the piece is $4,500 with an estimate of $9,000 to $12,000.

Indian warrior serving fork

Lot 71326 is an exquisite American oval two-handled centerpiece on floral feet. Made by Gorham in 1875, this 18-inch centerpiece has a pierced-work border of masks amid scrolling foliage with four applied floral basses, finished with scroll handles terminating in an acanthus furl with a shaped rim flaring over the handles. Estimate: $8,000 to $12,000 with an opening bid of $4,000.

Two-handled centerpiece

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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This extraordinary sale offers “the rare, the unique, and the exquisite.” It is sure to draw strong international interest and pull from Bonhams’ “who’s who” client base. The collection comprises a select offering of highly desirable 17th-, 18th- and 19th-century antiques. Antonio’s Antiques was one of the driving forces that established San Francisco’s Jackson Square as a destination for antique collectors and designers from around the world.

The sale will offer some of the finest highlights of the Antonio’s collection reflecting rarity, connoisseurship and centuries of beautiful design. The collection opens for preview on Feb. 27 continuing to the day of the auction,

Highlights include Lot 246, A superb late-17th-century Brussels tapestry that depicts a loggia with Solomonic (barley twist) columns overlooking a parterre within a border of floral swags. The tapestry measures 9 feet, 4 ½ inches by 14 feet. The clarity of color and condition, with minimal reconditioning, makes this museum-quality tapestry well worth its estimate of $30,000-$45,000.

17th-century Brussels tapestry

Another standout is Lot 80, a pair of George III terrestrial and celestial globes estimated at $15,000-$20,000.

George III terrestial and celestial globes

Lot 46 is an unusual George III giltwood wall clock estimated at $10,000-$15,000. Both unique and unusual, this period Rococo clock is fashioned out of wood as opposed to being cast in bronze and gilded. The delicacy of the pierced and floral carved frame is topped by an outspread winged ho ho bird crest that centers a silvered dial with both Latin and Arabic chapter rings and seconds dial. The maker, John Page of Ipswich, England, inscribed the dial.

George III giltwood wall clock

Lot 183 is a finely proportioned, early-19th-century Russian gilt-bronze chandelier with an estimate of $35,000-$50,000.

Early-19th-century Russian chandelier

Lot 223, an important early-18th-century Louis XIV boulle work, marquetry commode has an estimate of $70,000-$100,000. This commode incorporates the finest decorative techniques of the 18th century. Its rectangular top is placed over two short and two long drawers flanked by scrolled stiles ending in gilt sabots. The quality of the pieds de biche, overall inlay in premier partie boulle work depicting media-del-arte figures and animals along with the inlay of tortoiseshell brass, pewter and shell marquetry makes this piece second to none.

Early-18th-century Louis XIV commode

Lot 224 is a marvelous 16th-century Spanish Renaissance figure of the Madonna. This deaccessioned piece from New York’s Metropolitan Museum of Art has an estimate of $12,000-$15,000.

16th-century Spanish Madonna

More than 40 European paintings are on offer including works by Pieter Bout, Johann Halszel and Bartholomeus Assteyn.

The sale also includes excellent examples of Chinese Export, English and Continental porcelains, continental decorative items and silver.

(All photos are courtesy of Bonhams & Butterfields.)

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High ethical standards, sharing their expertise and knowledge about antiques and collectibles, participating in the larger collecting community, being part of something new and exciting–these are just some of the reasons experts in the antiques and collectibles world want to be Wortholgists on WorthPoint’s web site. In this video, Worthologists Christopher Kent, Thom Pattie, William Leigh and James Van Es talk about why they became Worthologists.

“You must lead such an interesting life finding and dealing in such beautiful things, traveling to so many fascinating places.” I’ve actually heard this from overly well-dressed people at benefit auctions where the plate of chicken is going for a thousand dollars. Of course, under the circumstances, I agree with them. Reality simply would not be appropriate to the setting. Reality rarely is.

Most days in the business are spent doing appraisals of less-than-stellar collections; making calls to collectors; attempting to sell a perfect Louis X1V bombe commode cajoled from a private collection only to find that the client is stalling on the purchase because his horoscope says he needs to be circumspect about acquiring things.

Tonka tedium relieved

One day, sitting in my overstuffed office, there’s a knock on my door. I get up from my desk where I have been glued to my laptop cataloging a collection of 400 Tonka Toys and find on the other side of the threshold an unassuming person shouldering two large paintings. It’s one of those “I was in the neighborhood, and you were recommended” situations that frankly, under the circumstance, I welcome.

The paintings, as it turns out, are good. The subject matter appears to be a husband and wife, done in a painterly fashion—painterly meaning the artist knew something about painting—following the 19th-century portrait-painting tradition. More importantly, the subjects are interesting, attractive and for those without ancestral portraits, would make a stunning addition to the dining-room walls.

Documentation: The appraiser’s joy

And, even more importantly, the bearer of the portraits has documentation about the artist and to some extent, the sitters. Now, this is the time when that cachet thing bears fruit. Another point that makes the life of the appraiser so much easier is the paintings are signed. Many people don’t know that most 19th-century portraiture was not signed. Appraisers make an educated guess based on style and the tradition of the painting as to whom may have painted it, and sometimes an attribution is impossible.

My assessing eye sees that the paintings’ condition is generally good. One has a small hole, but that is something a conservator can easily repair without devaluing the painting. The paintings are dirty, meaning the varnish has darkened with age, but that can easily be remedied. They appear to be in their original frames, another good thing. There is, with a cursory examination, no overpainting, meaning no one touched up the original painting either to enhance—by enhance, I mean to make the sitters appear younger by the removal of a few wrinkles or jowls, or richer with the addition of more jewelry—or repair damage that occurred in the 100-plus years the paintings have been around.

Sherlock appraiser

Now, here is when my job becomes fun, and yes, the words of the well-dressed lady at the benefit auction ring true. There is a certain intrigue in the process of authenticating that requires the sharp eye and instinct of the well-seasoned detective. We sometimes have to dredge through weighty Dead Sea Scrolls to get the information that we need. The Internet is useful and sometimes invaluable but can also be limited. We as appraisers have to go beneath the printed word to find additional links that will give us the information we need to make the declarative pronouncement.

People, to old paper guys like me, are invaluable. Documentation in and unto itself is sometimes as apocryphal as some of the “true” stories applied to certain pieces. “Oh, yes, these waffle irons belonged to George Washington, and he used them himself only on Tuesdays in leap years.” Hmm.

Paintings are real deal

After a few telephone calls to substantiate the documentation, all, as they say, was revealed. These paintings were the genuine article.

The artist, Theodore Pine, is a known quantity. His paintings hang in public and private collections. He is listed in all the important books. There are 2,000-plus links to him on the Internet. And although there are no recent auction reports to establish value, there is enough documentation to legitimize a perceived value on the portraits.

The portraits’ subjects, the Rev. and Mrs. George S. Hare DD, were prominent members of their community, and it was the tradition of Theodore Pine to paint people on the rise and of distinction. He came from a long line of artists. His grandfather, Robert Pine, was both artist and engraver. James Pine, his father, exhibited at the National Academy of Design from 1839 until 1857. Theodore, at 19, held his first exhibition at the National Academy in 1847 and continued to contribute through the 1880s.

Pine portraits in Ossining, home of Sing Sing

Many of Pine’s portraits are in the permanent collection of the Ossining (N.Y.) Historical Society Museum. Pine’s most famous portraits are dramatically different.

Rev. and Mrs. MacFarlan

Two are of the Rev. and Mrs. Daniel MacFarlan. They are richly dressed and seated in front of silver birch trees. A village dotted with white buildings is off in the distance, boats sail on the river, and the sky is turbulent and misty.

Typical of when the MacFarlan paintings were done (1857), embellishment of detail usually was in keeping to the fee. If you wanted your house, farm and prized bull in the painting, you paid extra. These paintings are excellent examples of American portraiture and justifiably deserve to be in the permanent collection of the Metropolitan Museum of Art in New York.

Pine’s other famous painting is the posthumous portrait of Gen. Robert E. Lee, which hangs in the chapel of Washington and Lee University in Lexington, Va.

Pine portrait of General Lee

Pine’s body of work not only included portraits but allegorical themes, landscapes and architectural studies in the style and tradition of a well-traveled artist. There is a school of thought within the appraising community that specializes in American portraiture that Pine is not of the first water. I disagree. There is a demonstration of a smooth style that incorporates skill without the need for artifice and tricks, and captures the personality of the sitter with a directness and candor separate from the stylized painting traditions of the day.

To appraise or not to appraise?

This begs the question. Should you have your paintings appraised? The answer is yes if the painting warrants it, remembering that an appraisal is usually done for insurance purposes and/or to establish resale value. With the Pine portraits, to be considered were their restoration, cleaning and securing the damage of the canvas, along with establishing a value. You might ask whether restoration potentially devalues the painting. The answer is only if an inferior conservator does the work, and even then, that can usually be repaired.

Okay, now for the proverbial drumroll, the time to put an appraised value on the Pine portraits. All documentation had been done. Other considerations were taken into account such as the sale trends of such paintings. And my final verdict?

The pair of Theodore Pine portraits of the Rev. and Mrs. George S. Hare would be appraised for $20,000 to $25,000.

It was a good thing I was in my office that day.

– 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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Its January Antique and Decorative Arts Sale, Jan. 14, has 316 lots and a cross section of Native-American items, silver, French, English, American and Continental furniture, fine and decorative art, and a singular collection of Asian art, porcelain and statuary.

Among my selections are several Asian pieces, Korean and Chinese, with intrinsic, artistic value that will hold their own even in the volatile global economic crunch. Asian pieces of good classical artistic style as seen in the November Asian week Sotheby sale, along with contemporary Asian works of art, are still claiming high prices and make a good long/short term investment.

Lot 102, a Korean Koryo Dynasty (12th, 13th century) celadon inlaid stoneware vase depicting three blossoming chrysanthemums and banana leaves. Thirteen inches high, unmarked, with an estimate of $2,500-$4,000, it has the factors of rarity and artistic staying power to make the piece a good investment.

Korean Koryo Dynasty vase

Lot 123, an early Chinese Republic (1912-1949) eggshell porcelain vase with a continuous hand-painted landscape has an estimate of $2,000-$4,000. It is interesting not so much because of its artistic value but rather as a representative piece of the time in which it was made.

Chinese Republic eggshell vase

Lot 150, a Chinese Qing Dynasty gilt bronze “God of Prosperity” statue, superbly cast to depict a warrior seated on the back of a lion, raised on a lotus stand. This late 17th-century piece has an estimate of $5,000-$8,000.

Qing Dynasty statue

Lot 153, a unique and superbly crafted carved Chinese burl wood depicting mountains and 18 Lohan (Chinese sages) in a landscape. Signed Wu Chang Shuo, it is early 20th century with an estimate of $10,000-$15,000.

Chinese burl-wood mountain

Lot 159, a late third-quarter 20th century, Italian, carved shell cameo designed and executed by Gennaro Garofalo, depicting the Good Shepherd after the painting by Bartolomé Esteban Murillo which shows Christ as a youthful shepherd, signed Garofalo and set in an 18-karat gold setting. Estimate: $2,000-$4,000.

Garofalo cameo

Lot 267, Honolulu Pearl Harbor front page, Dec. 7, 1941. This mint condition newspaper, with headline reading “War! Oahu Bombed by Japanese Planes,” is going in with an estimate of $800- $1,200.

Pearl Harbor attack front page

Dallas Auction Gallery sells all items with a buyer’s premium of 19.5 percent for items up to $200,000 on the floor and 22.5 percent on Internet sales. For items more than $200,000, there is a 12 percent buyer’s premium on the floor and 17 percent for Internet sales.

– By Christopher Kent, 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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The great hue and cry these days from longtime dealers is that they cannot find their antiques, collectibles and fine art in all the usual places. Their old stomping grounds just don’t exist anymore. Instead of diversifying and going on the Internet, they will draw in on themselves, divesting their own collections and professionally poaching on their rival’s to suit the needs of their clients.

Now, I’m not talking about the new dealers, the thirty-somethings, the darlings of the Internet, who walk around shows and shops clicking digital cameras and downloading the pictures onto sites around the world. I am referring to the old guard who have become anachronisms, Hogarth caricatures of themselves. There’s a place for these curmudgeon types—in glass cases with small printed cards that read: “Antiquarian 20th-century specimen.”

My reaction to these guys is to remember them fondly as a part of my childhood learning curve. They taught me a great deal. They imparted their wisdom, sometimes begrudgingly, sometimes with an enthusiasm that matched my own childish bumptiousness. One of these relics, a rare hothouse variety who has made the transition into the 21st century and now conducts his business online, invited me to an upstate New York sale.

An example of a Utamaro beauty

“Don’t get too excited,” he said. “The sale will probably be junk, but I hear there are a couple of decent country pieces and probably a lot of tractor parts. Oh, and bring your boots. We’ll probably be in a field somewhere.”

The wellies were duly packed, and I arrived in upstate New York in a little town called something like Tooten-on-the-Hudson. The sale was just about to start, and we had the opportunity to view the small but promising collection of furniture, unpromising chipped pottery, cracked Staffordshire and as promised, tractors, combines, tillers and other farm equipment.

Seated woman

We both exhaled with the disappointment of the collection. We were standing in a pasture that probably had been cleared of cows the day before. And, frankly, I don’t know what these cows had been eating, but wow, there was manure aplenty. The sun warming up the dung prompted the memory of many a country sale that I had attended in the past.

This was a far cry from the salesrooms and gilded halls where I was of late more accustomed to frequent. The auctioneer was good, fast, really fast, so fast that the uninitiated were bidding against themselves. He cleared most of the collection by noon. My friend picked up two good Federal fancy chairs and a tigerwood tripod table. Now it seemed what was left was to rid the seller of all the rusted farm equipment.

We hung in for another hour, consoling ourselves with hot dogs and lemonade from the concession stand, when the auctioneer paused and produced, like the proverbial rabbit from a hat, seven framed prints that had not, heretofore, been seen.

Once again I experienced a solar-plexus smack that said run, don’t walk to the front and check them out. Casually, I traversed the field. Leaving my friend in midsentence and after several dead-on hits with cow pies, I got to the front.

“Utamaro,” I said aloud.

Takashimaya Ohisa with Two Mirrors

“What?” said the man next to me.

“What?” I said back to him while I zeroed in on the early-19th-century Japanese prints. “Oh nothing, they’re not what I thought they were.” The man, losing interest, turned away.

Unbelievably, in the middle of hayracks, bailing wire and milking machines were some of the loveliest Japanese prints I had seen outside a public collection. I recognized them because I had just finished cataloging a collection that was good but not like these. Kitagawa Utamaro (1753-1806) was an innovative Japanese artist. While Europe was adding yet another putti and floral flounce to their paintings, he was producing refined and simply elegant depictions of 18th-century Japanese life.

Courtesans

These prints were real, and their condition was unbelievably good. They consisted of highborn ladies at their toilet, stylized with large portrait heads in which the design style, unique to Utamaro, relies on the outlined elongated features of the face, detailed decoration of the coiffured hair and painstaking rendering of the clothing.

The bidding started low. I bid $50. Silence. Suddenly a voice from across the field said, “One hundred-fifty.” Okay, these prints are worth easily several thousand, I said to myself. “Two hundred,” I said.

“Three hundred,” said the voice.

“Three-fifty.”

“Four.”

“Four-fifty,” I said. Okay, who is this jerk bidding against me? I turned around and saw my friend raising his hand to top my bid. One is capable in rare instances when the occasion calls for it to send out daggers, thunderbolts, paralyzing paroxysms of pain. He got the full thrust of my message, threw up his hands in an “I surrender, who knew?” gesture and turned away to get another hot dog. Hammer down at $450. His apology was finally accepted after a second bottle of Bordeaux that evening.

I resold the prints through an agent to an unknown buyer. Two years later, I received a large box the day before Christmas. I opened it, and to my amazement, there were the framed prints. The enclosed note read, “Merry Christmas, I decided we’ll enjoy these on a lend-lease exchange, yours for the next two years. Enjoy, and happy New Year.” It was from my friend, the bid-oblivious dealer.

– 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.

WorthPoint—Get the Most from Your Antiques & Collectibles

Opening this door becomes a situational comedy not unlike Fibber McGee and Molly and their famous closet. Inching open the door produces a torrential outpouring of boots, magazines, a rake—what’s a rake doing in here?—boxes of dishes that I swear I’m going to use or recycle and other assorted items that have been crammed into the space.

Closing the door is achieved with a full-body slam and a quick turn of the key in the lock. Two hours into the process of retrieving the decks, I had found a box of photographs, mostly of my father in WWII, the box also contained diplomas, citations, some ribbons from long-ago horse shows, early elementary-school group shots and a few love letters that had been assembled presumably by my mother and summarily off-loaded on me.

Treasures among junk

The box behind that contained scraps of vintage fabric, behind that a box of childhood books long out of print, next to that a collection of family prayer books handed down from my father’s side of the family. Another box, the contents wrapped in blue tissue paper, was my dad’s officer’s hat and a pair of 18th-century spectacles. Behind that were a few rolled-up, moth-eaten Oriental rugs, thin enough to read the New York Times through, coffee tins of nuts and bolts, the odd hammer, boxes filled with the upended contents of kitchen drawers never unpacked from the last house move, another box filled with rolls of masking tape.

I had, through this tedious exercise, actually, unknowingly, embarked on a nostalgia trip where I had learned things about my father that I hadn’t known, learned things about myself that I had boxed away and vaguely remembered and had finally found the hammer that had been missing for at least a year. The Christmas decorations were not there, however.

Oh no, I thought, they must be in the other closet upstairs.

– By Christopher Kent, 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.

WorthPoint—Get the Most from Your Antiques & Collectibles

This is not the first time that Pickford’s possessions have been up for sale. The December 2006 sale by Julien’s offered more than 200 items from the legendary actress’ collection, which featured a collection of personal correspondence from Douglas Fairbanks to Pickford that sold for more than $28,000.

Saturday and Sunday’s auction, too, had some standouts. The auction sales, under the expert auctioneering skills of Kathleen Guzman, started slow with a great portion of the continental furniture going way below estimates, and the trend continued throughout the first and second sessions. However, Lot 268, the 103-piece dinner service by Capo di Monte exceeded its estimate of $8,000 to $10,000, selling for $13,000.

The silver for the most part made a poor showing with the exception of the Victorian-era Elkington Epergne centerpiece, Lot 272, which sold within its $1,500 to $2,500 estimate for $2,000.

Session three, which included expected heavy hitters, saw more activity and higher bidding. Lot 411, the Mercier portrait of three children in a landscape, did not meet its estimate of $25,000 to $35,000, instead selling for $15,000. Next up were the Paul de Longpre oil-on-canvas botanicals, Lots 412 and 413, that sold, again below or just touching their estimates at $17,000 and $20,000, respectively.

The collection of Rodin-style watercolors, discovered to be the works of the infamous forger Ernst Durig with an estimate of $8,000 to $10,000, crashed at $1,000. The landscape attributed to Asher Durand with an estimate of $25,000 to $35,000 made a poor showing at $5,000. This was one of my picks, but upon personal close examination of the painting, it was clear that this was not a Durand. The painting lacked the luminosity and depth of detail attributed to his works.

Haseltine horse is a winner

There was no surprise that Lot 423, the Herbert Haseltine sculpture of a Percheron horse exceeded its estimate of $20,000 to $30,000. A New York dealer purchased it for $34,000. Haseltine’s works, which consisted largely of equestrian statues and were commissioned throughout his career by the rich and famous, hold their value, and it’s possible that this piece was purchased for immediate sale to a client.

The show wrapped up with the excitement of session four’s sale of the autograph book, Lot 749, which had an estimate of $6,000 to $8,000. This impressive collection of personalized autographs from 1926 through 1981 included the luminaries of the century such as Albert Einstein, Amelia Earhart, Pearl Buck, Lillian Gish, Mussolini, George Bernard Shaw, Jonas Salk, FDR, Thomas Edison, Henry Ford and hundreds more. To a serious collector of autographs, this collection would be at the center and a jewel to own. It went for $19,000.

– By Christopher Kent, 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.

WorthPoint—Get the Most from Your Antiques & Collectibles

I was asked to take part in a Historic Richmond Town (Staten Island, N.Y.) fundraiser and was excited to do so because since a kid, I felt an affinity for walking through restored or reconstructed historic villages. My Saturday at the event would be spent appraising with a big auction Sunday.

I was hearing, as I appraised, wonderful stories about found items—dumpsters in Manhattan still the best location for finding treasures—when an elderly couple came to the table.

Framed fragment

Was it possible that the Fezziwigs, the couple from Charles Dickens’ “The Christmas Carol,” had popped out of the book and appeared in front of me, rosy and round and cheerful? They giggled and jostled as they unwrapped what appeared to be a painting.

As I studied it, I asked the stock questions—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.”

And where did she get it? Her mother brought it from Naples at the turn of the last century.

Pan pipes and nymphs are nun-cell no-nos

The nun was not allowed to have decoration in her convent cell and certainly nothing as frivolous as this. I was holding a fragment of a painting, meaning a portion of the original painting, that had been cut down to about 24-inches square. It depicted a wild, pastoral scene with dancing nymphs and shepherds and Pan pipes being played.

Stylistically, it was clearly 17th/18th century, and the condition was excellent. I had a gut feeling as to the painter. But where was the rest of it?

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

At this point, there were about 40 people waiting to have items appraised. 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.

Four sisters not playing nice

Well, it seems that there were four sisters and one item that they each wanted to take to New York—the painting.

Months before the trip, they jockeyed for ownership of the piece. Days before the sisters were 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. Weren’t they were going to live there together?”

No, they would dock and go off in different directions.

Daddy’s, 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 and proceeded to cut the painting into four equal pieces, handing each daughter a square.

On the journey over, the sisters had a complete falling-out, blaming each other for their father’s rash action. After docking, each gave the other the distinctive digital gesture in the vernacular of Naples and parted, painting fragments in tow.

“Why don’t you call the relatives and get the pieces back?” someone in the crowd asked.

“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 even cut apart, this painting might be valuable. I asked to examine their fragment in a laboratory. I also urged them to contact the owners of the other fragments and negotiate getting them.

Forensics weighs in

I took the painting to a forensic lab in D.C. My feeling was that it was late-17th century, done in the style of Salvador Rosa.

Rosa is known, in some circles, as a second-string Italian Baroque painter. His works were considered by his contemporaries and by art historians as flamboyant and sublime. His historical and allegorical paintings 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.

The tests from the lab confirmed that the pigment and canvas were 17th century, the stretcher new and that we could possibly have a Rosa or at least an “in the school” or studio copy. I gave the Fezziwigs the news and asked them to please begin the arduous work of contacting the relatives. They already had, and one of the quarters was on its way.

Experts agree—almost

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

Within another six months, the painting was intact and exquisite. I asked some colleagues to have a look at the painting. 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 auction details and put the painting up for sale. End result: $20,000 for 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.

WorthPoint—Get the Most from Your Antiques & Collectibles

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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.

WorthPoint – Discover Your Hidden Wealth

Worthologist Christopher Kent talks about some of the antique porcelain tea cups and pots in his collection.

WorthPoint – Discover Your Hidden Wealth

Lot 1 Italianate landscape with figures, attributed to the followers or school of Marco Ricci. This particular painting, which I found interesting because of its attribution and its subject matter, sold with a hammer price of $7,000, going in with an estimate of $4,000 to $6,000. We can speculate from this vantage point and query the point and do the “what ifs.” If the painting is, as promoted, an attribution, then the selling price was very good. I would have speculated that it would have stayed within the estimate of 4K to 6K. We do not know if the painting, prior to the sale, was subjected to various tests that would have confirmed beyond a doubt that it was a period piece. That being said, we can then speculate that the buyer might have suspected that it was, in fact, painted by Marco Ricci based on critical analysis of style and execution, and that he was potentially getting an excellent investment at 7K, which if all the “what ifs” paid off, he was sitting on a small gold mine should he decide to sell.

Lots 53, 54 and 55, the collection of Sir William Orpen’s works, which included “Study of an Irish Girl,” “Portrait of Lady Orpen” and “Studies of a Male Nude,” respectively, had some surprises with Lot 53 going well beyond its estimate of 8K and selling for 20K. Lots 54 and 55 sold at or slightly above their estimates. It’s good, as demonstrated by these sales results, to see Orpen getting some much-deserved attention.

What was not a surprise, however, were the sales results of Lot 155, the “Untitled,” strongly linear abstract/Impressionism painting by Washington, D.C., artist, Alma Woodsey Thomas. The painting, which firmly places Thomas in the top-ranking world of the Modernist, went in with a reserve of 20K to 30K and sold for 35K. I predict that her paintings, which are infrequent at auction, will only continue to rise. Another American painter, John Fulton Folinsbee, Lot 130, titled “The Shad Landing,” exceeded Thomas’ sale with a hammer price of 60K. Only goes to show that the old slogan still has validity, “Buy American.”

July 31-Aug. 2: Mebane Auction

by Christopher Kent
Director of Evaluations, WorthPoint
– Please send your antiques, art and collectibles news about auctions to news [at] worthpoint [dot] com, and put “Auction News” in the subject line.