Source: Metropolitan Museum of Art

“When a copper engraving by Martin of St. Anthony beaten by the devils reached Florence, Michelangelo made a pen drawing and then painted it. To counterfeit some strange forms of devils he bought fish with curiously coloured scales, and showed such ability that he won much credit and reputation. He also made perfect copies of various old masks, making them look old with smoke and other things so that they could not be distinguished from the originals. He did this to obtain the originals in exchange for the copies, as he wanted the former and sought to surpass them, thereby acquiring a great name.”

In this colorful excerpt from the Lives of the Artists, Italian biographer Giorgio Vasari provides an interesting detail of the early years of Michelangelo Buonarotti (1475-1564) as a painter: He used a contemporary engraving by the German artist Martin Schongauer (ca. 1445-1491) as the model for his first steps as a painter. The engraving is one of Schongauer’s earliest prints (he was around 30 when he made it) and depicts Saint Anthony tormented by the Demons.

It is interesting to note here  that in this case the engraving forms  the original work of art providing the model for a painting; in later centuries (especially in the 18th century) prints would be the objet d’art par ecxellence serving as a faithful copy of a painting or a drawing.

In the recently opened exhibition Michelangelo’s First Painting, you now have the opportunity to first take a look at the original Schongauer engraving (unique in its collage of fantastic beasts and figures, reminiscent of later Pieter Bruegel paintings) and then decide for yourself whether those fish heads bought at the market indeed surpassed the copies.

The Metropolitan Museum of Art, New York: Michelangelo’s First Painting. June 16, 2009–September 7, 2009. European Paintings Galleries, 2nd floor.

A short roundup of print news from around the world:

Youenoch has an aminated version of Hypnerotomachia Poliphili.

Mercuriuspoliticus was delighted to see  “The Headless Horseman”, an engraving by Pierre Lombart which underwent some drastic changes.

Clara Lieu spotted the grouchiest looking putto ever in the etching/engraving Allegory of the Arts by the Italian Andrea Giovanni Podesta (1608-~1674).

The iconic woodblock print  In the well of the great wave off Kanagawa by Katshushika Hokusai (1760-1849) was sold at Christie’s for $68′500. The equally beautiful The Tama River in Musashi province from the same series Fugaku sanjurokkei (The thirty-six views of Mount Fuji) fetched $5′000.

Edward Sozanski shows us When European prints went supersized.

Picture yourself having just acquired an old master print (say, a Rembrandt etching) at an auction. The print is in a exceptional good state, and you bought it at a reasonable price (“reasonable” meaning in reasonable relation to the size of your wallet, of course). After the auction, this well know old print conaisseur which you watched lingering around the specimens shown at the pre-sale exhibition approaches you and tells you with that calm voice expressing a life full of old master print expertise: “Madam/Sir, I have to to tell you: your print has been Schweidlerized“.

Schweidlerized? What does he mean?

1. The print is a fake (“swindle”)
2. The print has been skillfully repaired, virtually invisible to the eye, or
3. The print was sold (at an auction etc.) at a much higher price than what it is actually worth.
   

Read on for the solution and the rediscovery of a tremendously valuable book.

“Anyone who has only a small amount of time available and thinks he might be able to finish my book on the streetcar, or somewhere else in between other activities, is better off leaving my book alone. It will not do him any good. It is not just an entertaining piece of literature, a pleasant chat in more or less beautiful words.“

Thus are the introducing words of the book “Die Instandsetzung von Kupferstichen, Zeichnungen, Büchern usw.”, published first in 1938 in Berlin, a book which has long been out of print. Roy Perkinson, Head of Paper Conservation at the Museum of Fine Arts, Boston has done a very fine job in translating the text of the 1950 version and in adding eleven case studies (including woodcuts by Albrecht Altdorfer and Urs Graf; engravings by Albrecht Dürer, Marcantonio Raimondi,  Antonio del Pollaiuolo, Martin Schongauer, Lucas van Leyden and the Master of the Housebook,  and etchings by Rembrandt Harmensz. van Rijn and Anthony van Dyck). All quotations in this post are from this edition.

The author of the mentioned book is  the German restorer Max Schweidler, born 1885 in Berlin. The year of his death is unknown, which is not the only mystery surrounding his life. His brother, Carl (1884-1962) was said to be the even more skilled restorer, but he didn’t describe any of of his methods in a publication.

Both Carl and Max Schweidler had an extensive knowledge of how to repair age-related damages of works on paper in such a perfected way that later experts would have difficulties even in spotting them. Max Schweidler specifically pointed out the results of  “wrong ” (or at least different) restoration methods, thus the subtitle “Past Mistakes and New Methods…“  of his book. He admits that he had to be “rather pedantic about the details” of his methods, but he found the detailed explanations absolutely necessary in order to reach the ultimate goal of his understanding of restoration: “...transmitting these treasures in the best possible condition to future generations“.

What follows is a critical overview of  the methods of past restorers  and a meticulous account of his own methods.  Although there are inaccuracies (e.g. Schweidler’s knowledge of paper making) and procedures nowadays obsolete, Schweidler’s book can still be regarded as a seminal work in this area. Perkinson’s edition provides a cornucopia of facts about the manufacture of paper, the treatment (not necessarily removing)  stains, the cleaning of prints, drawings and books and the treatment of mounted prints and much more. Perkinson briefly also touches on the interesting question of where the limits of any restoration work are. He concludes that “… in the end it is not a problem that a repair was done so well as to be almost undetectable but rather that there was no disclosure of this fact “(p. 8).

So, if there are “Schweidlerized” prints, drawings or books in your collection: congratulations for being able to discern them and respect to the work of Max Schweidler, who was indeed capable to preserve those valuable items for future generations.

Max Schweidler: The Restoration of Engravings, Drawings, Books and other Works on Paper, 2nd edition, 1950, translated and edited by Roy Perkinson. The Getty Conservation Institute, Los Angeles,  2006.

The book is available directly from the Getty Conservation Institute or from Amazon.

Max Schweidler taking a sheet out of the tray (p. 49)

Another technical study to the engraving Battle of the Nudes by Antonio del Pollaiolo (case study 11 in Parkinson’s edition) was conducted by Moyna Stanton, Associate Conservator of Works of Art on Paper at the Cleveland Museum of Art. Her findings are available online: Pollaiuolo: Finding the Pieces of the Puzzle, where you will also find additional facts on the works of the Schweidler brothers.

An early impression of the aquatinta etching “Muchachos al avío” (“Lads making ready”) by Francisco de Goya was found in the kitchen of the former residence of Slobodan Milosevic in Beograd. The plate 11 of the series “Los Caprichos” has been confirmed to be a first impression, published in 1799.

The plate had been part of the collection of former President Josip Broz Tito, for whom the residence originally was built. At the moment it is both unclear how it got there and what the wherebouts of other “disappared” items from the mentioned collection are.

A detail from a 17th century engraving shows English businessmen John Guy meeting Beothuk in Trinity Bay

An interesting dispute about a copperplate engraving published in 1628 depicting merchants from the Old World trading with Native Americans seems to be settled for now. Canadian archaeologist William Gilbert challenges the traditional interpretation of the scene taking place in New England, but rather interprets it as an early encounter of the English merchant John Guy with Beothuk Indians in Newfoundland, thus making it a part of early Canadian history.

William Gilbert has published his findings in Post-Medieval Archeology; a PDF version of the paper can be found here. Gilbert points out an interesting characteristic of this and similar engravings illustrating the story of the accompanying text: The ships and boats depicted in the engraving are part of an early version of a picture story; they show the same vessel and boat at different stages of the story told.

The controversial engraving is now thought to be a work of Basel-born engraver Matthäus Merian, although the credits of the whole Americae series still go to the de Bry family.

CBC news article: Archeologist reclaims slice of Canadian history through engraving

Canada.com article: Early engraving of English meeting aboriginals traced to N.L.

In the context of this blog, we generously regard Old Master prints as a subset of the so called Old Masters, which at the same time can stand for Old Master Paintings/Drawings/Etchings/Engravings or for the actual creators of these. Whic is actually a strange case of pars pro toto: you would never use “shoe” synonymously with “shoemaker”.

It is often an amusing pastime to read comments about the current and future state of the Art market regarding Old Masters. Let us first have a look at an article by Felix Salmon, a finance blogger and Editorial contributor to Portfolio.com.

The article dates from January this year and is entitled “Why Old Master Might Not be a Good Investment“. He states that

“[...] the supply of Old Masters is shrinking not because they get destroyed but because they get donated to museums, which in turn takes them out of private hands“

while at the same time

“[,...] the production of auction-worthy contemporary art has never been higher.”

Consequence: The demand for Old Masters is dropping, and will not rise again. Salmon’s advise: hands off Old Masters, go for the “new found glamour” of contemporary art.

A couple of months later, in the middle of a global crisis of the Western finance system, Carol Vogel at the New York Times, states in her article “Investing in Old Masters Economic Hard Times“:

“Unlike contemporary artworks, whose auction prices are subject to wild market gyrations, old masters have historically run a steadier course. ‘Prices may go down a little bit; they may go up a little bit, but we ain’t going out of business,’ said George Wachter, vice chairman of Sotheby’s old master paintings department.”

Apparently, the hedge-fund collectors haven’t invaded the Old Masters sector, so that “some sellers seem undaunted by the current economic crisis“, like Manhattan based Richard Feigen, who bought a Turner in 1982 for $1.1 million, and plans to sell it now for $12 to $16 million.

Even contemporary artists like Jeff Koons, John Currin and Damien Hirst have showed a growing interest in Old master art.

Now I wouldn’t go as far as to judge which one of these two forecasts is more accurate, but I can’t help throwing in here the Niels Bohr quotation (attributed to at least a dozen other authors as well): “Prediction is very difficult, especially about the future”. Even worse, there is always the possibility of a Black Swan lurking somewhere.

The National Gallery of Art has recently acquired a complete set of Albrecht Dürer’s 16 woodcuts illustrating the Apocalypse for $1.4 million. It is one of only a few surviving specimens of the 1498 edition. The New York Times article states the Swiss dealer August Laube as the seller.

The most famous woodcut of the Apocalipsis cum figuris (“Apocalypse with pictures”,”Die Heimliche Offenbarung Johannes”), which was published at the same time in Latin and in German, are the Four Horsemen, depicted here. For the first time, each of the woodcuts bears the famous AD monogram. Thirteen years later, Dürer produced a second edition, but it is apparently the first edition which causes Museum and Art Gallery directors to invest large sums of their budgets.

This website (in German) gives a fine overview of all 16 woodcuts along with some short commentaries.

Artdaily points out to an auction of 61 important old master prints over at Christie’s, featuring works on paper by Rembrandt, Goya, Mantegna, Dürer and other Old masters. Estimated prices range from £1,500 for Daniel Hopfer’s Three German Soldiers with Halberds and a Dog to a staggering £450,000 for Rembrandt’s Christ crucified between the two Thieves: ‘The Three Crosses’ .

The etching “‘Tristes presentimientos de lo que ha de acontecer” (“Sad presentiments of what will happen”) by Francisco de Goya (1746-1828), which was stolen a month ago at an important Goya exhibition at the Fundación Gilberto Alzate Avendaño in Bogota, has been found in a hotel room in the same city, still in its original frame.

The etching is part of the series “Los desastres de la guerra” (Disasters of War) (1810-14) narrating the hardships of the Spanish liberation war against France.

Link to “El Tiempo” article (12.10.2008): Grabado de Goya robado el pasado mes de septiembre fue recuperado por las autoridades

Link to an article showing the corpus delicti (14.10.2008). This and some other articles erroneously speak of  “engravings”, although the Disasters of War prints are etchings (with the additional use of aquatint, dry point and burin). The use of “engraving” instead of “etching” seems to be a common mistake for news agencies, it happened also here.

“I became aware that the backward countries of the world are and have been those that have not learned to take full advantage of the possibilities of pictorial statement and communication, and that many of the most characteristic ideas and abilities of our western civilization have been intimately related to our skills exactly to repeat pictorial statements and communications.”

These are the introductory words to the first chapter titled “The blocked road to pictorial communication” in William M. Ivins’ book “Prints and Visual Communication“. While I would agree to the thought that many ideas and cultural values of the western civilisation have been proposed and developed in a close bond with the ability to repeat pictorial statements and communicatios, I started to ponder about the first part. Backward countries? If you call countries backward, how do you define the “forward direction”? Furthermore: assuming that there is something like a backward country: Is it true that such countries did not take full advantage of pictorial statements?

William Mills Ivins, Jr. was born in 1881 as the son of a famous New York lawyer (William Ivins Sr.). After studies in Munich he received his law degree in 1907. From 1916, he was curator of the Prints Department at the Metropolitan Museum of Art, where he turned the small prints collection into one of the worlds most renowned collection of prints. He retired 1946 from the museum and died in 1961.

Ivins published his “Prints and Visual Communication” in 1953. The title of the book already illustrates a key motto of his approach to a history of prints: prints (etchings, engravings, woodcuts) are prime media for the dispersion of scientific knowledge and cultural ideas. The function of prints as a work of art is in his eyes inferior to its role as a conveyor of communication:

“The importance of being able exactly to repeat pictorial statements is undoubtedly greater for science, technology, and general information than it is for art” (p. 2).

Thus, prints are a precursor to modern photography . The term “print”, in Ivins’ view, changed from the “true” definition as an “accurate pictorial repetition” to a somewhat mystified aesthetic object with a mere snob appeal:

“Certainly we cannot hope to realize their actual role unless we get away from the snobbery of modern print collecting notions and definitions” (p. 3).

Thus the late Curator of the Prints Department of the MetMuseum.

Certainly, to look at a print as a mere work of art is to lose an important facet of its overall value and importance. But can we treat a decorative Rokoko pattern or a Rembrandt self-portrait the same as accurately depicted plants in botanical books? Is it snobby to look at a Demarteau copy of a Boucher portrait primely because of its artistic value and delightful visual impression of its beauty instead of assessing its role for dispersing cultural values?

And last but not least: I’m still bothered with the term backward countries. “Backward” conveys the notion of a movement in the “wrong direction”. In his book, Ivins’ first illustration is a painted woodcut from Boner’s “Der Edelstein” (the gem), from 1461. He omits the fact that the Chinese already had used woodcuts in the 10th century for illustrating texts:

“After all, the technique of making repeatable pictorial statements, i.e. the woodcut, was known to the Chinese long before it was applied in Europe, without giving the Far East a corresponding advantage over the West. Perhaps there is some leaven in the Classical heritage which accounts for this difference?”

Thus Professor Sir Ernst Gombrich, in his review of Ivins’ “Prints and Visual Communication”.

William Ivins, ca. 1900. Gertrude Käsebier, photographer. Platinum print ; 20 x 14 cm. William Mills Ivins papers. Archives of American Art. From the Smithsonian Archives of American Art.

William M. Ivins, Jr., “Prints and Visual Communication“, MIT Press paperback reprint of the first edition published in 1953 by Harvard University Press.