The Encyclopedia of Antiques [antikvár]

INTRODUCTION INTRO DUCT I ON BY DAVID BATTIE Collecting has a long history. It seems that man has inherited an inbuilt aesthetic sense and while still living in caves he was producing flints polished to a degree higher than was necessary for strictly functional purposes. These flints became items of barter all over the continent of Europe, and it is not beyond the bounds of possiblility that there was a Neanderthal J. Paul Getty lining up a collection in his cave. Certainly, by the time of recorded history the wealthy were accumulating hordes of objects both for temporal appreciation and for their well-being in the afterlife. By Roman times they were complaining about the high price of antiques at auction. There are fashions in antiques as there are in any other aspect of life. For example, in the mid 18th century excavations of Roman objects changed taste from the wild extravagance of the rococo to restrained Neoclassicism. Disinterred vases, bronzes and sculpture changed hands for considerable sums. Changes of style meant that those members of the aristocracy who wanted to remain in fashion had to remodel their houses, inside and out. Then, as now, second-hand furniture and works of art were unsalable, and many of the objects in the previous fashion were stored away in the attics and outhouses or relegated to servants' quarters. These rejects are today's masterpieces. The idea of collecting yesterday's cast-offs simply because they are old is, in fact, of recent origin. It was not until the middle of the 19th century that a gentleman would consider collecting much but books and manuscripts. Admittedly antiquities were acceptable, as were prints and maps and coins, but even paintings attracted very few dedicated collectors. There were almost no books on antiques (as opposed to antiquities) until the second half of the 19th century when research began to be conducted into objects made in previous centuries. Then the Victorians, enthusiastic recyclers of early styles as they were, set in motion the modern drive to know the last tiny fact about one's prized antique. There is, in fact, nothing wrong with wanting to know everything about the history of a piece, unless - and it happens all too frequently - the collector becomes blinded by background and stops looking with an unbiased eye at what it is he is collecting. This failure to look afresh at every piece, often the product of a slavish following of fashion, can upset the market. Once a group of objects suddenly comes into vogue - the crazes for Clarice CHff in 1988 and minor Impressionist paintings in 1989/90 arc two recent examples - too many unknowledgeable collectors and investors jump on the bandwagon, which rolls for a year or two and then grinds to a halt. The market collapses and for a matter of months, or occasionally years, the outlook seems bleak. But the market always recovers, as collecting works of art will never go out of fashion for long. The intelligent collector follows his own instincts and buys what he believes in, even if the market presently scorns it. Fashion will eventually catch up with him. From this follows the first and only real rule of collecting: buy what you like. No matter what the fluctuations in the market, you will own something that you love. The hobby of collecting has spread from a very few dedicated amateurs at the beginning of this century to millions today. As every year passes, it seems, a new area is discovered, usually one previously despised and ever closer to the present day. The British government defines an 'antique' as an object over one hundred years old which then escapes import duty. Now the term has come to mean almost anything second-hand and collectable. While this may exclude the kitchen sink it certainly does include refrigerators, typewriters and old Coca Cola bottles. Even jumble sales can turn up the most extraordinary finds. In 1977 a lady came into Sotheby's with a box full of bits and pieces for them to look at. Nothing proved of any value. Sadly she packed away what were no longer her treasures and turned to go. Shen then remembered a small plaque, only a few inches high, that her daughter had asked her to take along. It was black and almost unrecognizable, but it looked promising. Proper cleaning revealed a Carolingian ivory plaque from a 9th century bible. It sold for L280,000 ($518,000). Her daughter had bought it at a jumble sale for 25p (450). Antiques programmes on television have had two important effects on the market. One, they have stopped families, when Aunt Matilda dies, throwing out everything onto the local tip, and, two, they have made the chance of finding a bargain in a shop that bit more unlikely. However, the drive to strike it rich should not be the overriding drive for anyone interested in works of art. Certainly the possibility is there, but it is a very small possibility. Many antique dealers spend their lives, all day every day, buying and selling, and never finding the one-off bargain on which to retire. It has to be faced, however, that one way for a collector to support buying for his collection is to undertake a little trading on his own behalf Certainly, the true collector is forced into selling if he is to weed out poor or damaged examples and replace them with other, better pieces. This constant upgrading of a collection should always be undertaken if one wants the greatest satisfaction from ownership. In the mid-ISlh century mahogany replaced walnut as the most papular material for clock cases. This example has an arched dial and a trunk door