Most woodworkers become adept at hiding repairs on their furniture or antiques. But some use this skill to fool a buyer into paying much more for a piece that is actually modern or has been cobbled together from several antique sources.
The forgery trade employed many famous woodworkers, including Charles Hayward (by his own admission in his short biography). And there are many written accounts that explain the forgery trade. And it still goes on today quite actively.
One common ruse is to buy old but inexpensive pieces and chop them up for the vintage wood and patina. Then assemble bits and pieces from several sources to create something that looks much earlier, rare and expensive.
The pull above is a victim of the chop-shop trade. It was culled from an early campaign chest so the wood (oak veneer over tight-grain deal) could be used for something else. The pull made its way to woodworker Richard Arnold, who gave it to me this fall.
And while campaign pieces are typically the victims of the chop trade, they also can be the final result of the ruse, as explained by Bernard Jack in his book “The Antique Story Book” (Etching Hill Press).
Demand for Military Chests was outstripping supply and (the antiques dealer) had several people making them for her. She was sure I could do the work, adding that her local dustman was able to turn out one a week in his spare time. She would supply the Victorian chests and all the brasswork and pay me a fiver for each one. I apologised for being unable to help, saying that I was already heavily committed, but thanked her for the offer. I wonder who owns the chests the dustman made?
So the next time you are in a museum or antiques store and get to examine something rare or extraordinary, keep in mind that there is a shadowy world of woodworkers out there who are corrupting the furniture record we study and replicate.
— Christopher Schwarz
If you want to read more about the world of fakes, check out this article about the Chipstone Collection.
One very well known expert in forgery in France was André Maillefert who set up a shop in 1904 in Orléans where 200 cabinet makers, gilders, sculpters produced for 30 years a montain of false furniture. And Maillefert tells it all in a memory book really worth reading.
François
I forgot the link to the book: “André Mailfert Au Pays des antiquaires, confidences d’un maquilleur professionnel éd. Flammarion”
Donna Tartt’s fiction book the Goldfinch has a plotline about this very same practice.
Chris, where can I find the above mentioned ‘short biography’ of Charles H. Hayward? I’m a big fan of his various publications and always regret how little I can find out about the man.
Very best,
It was published in three parts after his retirement. I believe it was in “The Woodworker.” I’ll try to dig it up and get a specific reference.
I love the Piltdown reference.
The Brewster Chair, acquired by The Henry Ford Museum in 1970 and revealed to be a fake in 1977, is probably the best known furniture fake in the US. The museum has had it on exhibit as a fake with an explanation of how it was determined to be a fake. One difference from most fake is the creator didn’t make it for sale but rather gave it away. He wanted to prove the “experts” could be fooled. http://www.thehenryford.org/exhibits/pic/2000/00apr.asp
Assuming a perfect forgery, why would we not value the forgery as highly as the original? If atom for atom, they are indistinguishable, why would we assert that the original is more worthy or more valuable etc.? A person doing so would apparently be valuing something about the original other than the piece of furniture in front of them. Seems rather arbitrary.
We can now inexpensively grow large perfect diamonds in a lab that experts cannot tell from mined variety. If I jumbled a lab grown two karat perfectly clear diamond in my hand with a mined one, have I destroyed the value of the mined one because no one can prove which is which?
Perhaps the piece of furniture in front of us is what matters, whether a pilgrim made it in Plymouth or a forger yesterday or it popped into existence spontaneously just before we turned around.
?
I’m not saying forgery is right. Clearly it hurts historians, collectors, and so forth. But on the other hand, reproductions can be as “good” as originals. Take a classic car model produced on an assembly line, do you care if yours in the 280th or 281st off the line? No, because, absent some defect in the parts or workmanship, they are identical. It just raises a sort of interesting issue to my mind. We value the originals in furniture for historical tallying and understanding, for rarity, for the story that goes with the piece, and so forth, but not necessarily because the aesthetics of the original are better than the perfected copy. I find that interesting, but I am admittedly weird.
Sean,
I think what is important to mention is that what forgers make is rarely a copy of something. They make something “new” that is usually rare or unheard of to attract the eye of collectors. Then it gets inserted into the historical record falsely and colors our view of the development of a style.
That is why I chose the “piltdown” headline. I am looking at this through the lens of the historical record of furniture.
Hope this makes sense.
Chris
If, by a “perfect forgery”, you mean that the forged object is indistinguishable from the original “atom for atom”, then a perfect forgery exists only in your imagination. Even in the case of your perfect copy of a diamond, it only exists to the degree that side by side comparison with the original is halted. Spectroscopic examination (and probably x-ray diffraction crystallography) would reveal differences in impurities and their dispersion within the lattice that your local jeweler could not discern. In that case the original two-carat diamond is probably more highly valued because of its provenance: it used to belong to the Duchess of Whimwham, and we fondly remember her follies. Provenance figures highly in the valuation of most objects or works of art.
With respect to replicas of furniture, a perfect replica is impossible. The variations in wood grain and structure alone would see to that. You can faithfully replicate the design, and you may be able to patinate it such that it appears very close to the original, but you cannot make a perfect replica unless you have Sheraton’s saws and can saw like him, or Chippendale’s gouges and can carve like him, or Krenov’s fingertips and rods and cones, and can judge a surface as he did. So what you are asking is, “why do we value an authentic object more than a replica”?
Many people do not know the difference. I have had art history professors who never studied objects; they studied photographs of objects. In this age, most people don’t see, and don’t even know it.
I went to the extreme in “atom for atom” to put aside the retort “but they are not the same.” Granted literal sameness is not yet possible – its the stuff of Star Trek transporter technologies and fiction. What I am really getting at is what if the repro is aesthetically equal or better? What if the “forgery” is just “in the style” and not a literal repro of an existing piece, but is the best one ever made from an aesthetic perspective? I think I’d rather live with the best, than live with the oldest, but not quite as good.
Thanks, Chris, I take your point. I come at these things from an odd perspective no doubt. I’m interested in history and its record, but I am more interested in what an artist realizes with his or her hands regardless of the date – or the artist’s intent. Generation after generation make their contributions and the cream rises to the top and stays there. I haven’t yet figured out if one must be in the particular time in order to create the best works representative of that time’s styles, but my intuition is no.
ob, you sound like you know a lot about gems. I don’t. I just happen to read the NYT. If you are interested, I was referring to: http://www.nytimes.com/2014/04/20/business/when-diamonds-are-dirt-cheap-will-they-still-dazzle.html?_r=0
Sean,
Sorry, I took your question literally. To my way of thinking, there is a continuum with points on it that run something like this:
Forgery……….Replica meant to deceive……..Acknowledged replica “in the style of”
It seems to me that you are asserting that an acknowledged replica “in the style of” has just as much aesthetic value as a period original: “what matters is the piece of furniture in front of us.” I agree, that is true in some senses, but the valuation of an object IS inextricably linked to its history and past associations. That’s why we are all still hanging on to grandpa’s beat-up, worthless dado planes.
You may find two stories interesting to your inquiry. Amand Durand was a nineteenth century engraver with a deep appreciation of the Old Masters. He devoted considerable effort to studying the Old Masters and their techniques- not with the intention to deceive anyone, but as an homage, and in order to preserve some of the character of their works. He executed notable replicas of several of Rembrandt’s etchings. I spent several decades in the employ of a museum with a distinguished collection of prints, including several important R etchings, and had the pleasure of spending many hours with them in my lab. We also had a number of Amand Durand’s replicas. They were amazing; comparing the two line by line, it was often very difficult to perceive any difference. But when you pulled back from the stereoscope, there was no doubt why Rembrandt is so treasured (and valued), and Amand-Durand appreciated more as a historical curiosity.
You might also be interested in the life and career of “Elmyr de Hory”. I put his name in goose feet because I don’t remember his “real” name, but he fooled a lot of people.
Thanks, ob. I appreciate the story and comments. So, when you asked dates “up to see your etchings,” you were serious? 😉
Having worked as a furniture conservator in major museums and in my own shop for close to 50 years, there is a basic rule all professional conservators should abide by…ANY CHANGES AND/OR ADDITIONS SHOULD BE OBSERVABLE TO A TRAINED EYE. The trouble is most eyes are not trained and greed plus gullibility aid deception. For example, new paint Infills will fluoresce differently than the original under a black light. When one rebuilds the bottom of a drawer that has worn 1/2″ away one needn’t hide the new repair. but instead blend it in in with color leaving the new repair obvious to anyone. Exterior face work on a drawer one would try and match the back ground nearly perfectly, but again a black light will reveal the repair patch or dutchman because a black light will make it stand out. So often people believe something that has been given, in what the trade calls an “assist,” is original and real because they want to believe. The old adage “Patina is the glaze that comes oven a person’s eyes when they see something old that they want to buy”…a lot of truth in that.
Often it is not the restorer who scams the public, but an ignorant or dishonest dealer two-or-three sales later of an same tem who has no knowledge of what has been done to a piece, or knows that his bank account sheds no black light. A fool proof pencil inscription, in a less than conspicuous place, where the date, the restorers name and a note of what was done is hard to overcome. I’m proud of my skills, but even then one sees pieces one has restored turn up in antique journals as being pristine and original throughout. And no mater how good the reproduction…be proud of your work and sign and date it. Noah’s Ark is being built in the Netherlands right now.
Oh, and lets not forget Johnathan Gash’s Lovejoy and his 71 escapades as he scammed his way through England and Europe. The BBC made a series of TV shows about this stalwart forger. The novels are good reading. Keep a close eye on your women though.
decades ago I started reading about forgeries in paintings—I think the term was sexton blaking.
Tom Keating once took an old canvas and replicated a pastoral scene of 12 cows, only he painted 13 in a mirror image, and before he did it he wrote in lead paint on his old canvas “this is a fake”…If I remember correctly, his biography is called “sexton blaking” and basically indicates that he did it because he wanted to study masters technique, not dupe the public. Others took advantage of him. Not so far afield from those of us who repair antiques eh?
It passed muster as authentic by a leading London auction house, when the simplest of tests would have revealed the fakery.
Gives you a great deal of faith in thew motivation of “experts” eh?
I watched one expert on Antiques Roadshow state that a treenware bowl was a fake because it was out of round. Go figure
Eric in Calgary
You can’t do anything again, but you can do something similar!