notes

The short answer is, seemingly, everything. Certainly witness the phenomenal success of Picasso’s opus, just knocked down by Christie’s for $106.5 million to an as yet unknown buyer. While the Picasso has the distinction of now being the most expensive work of art yet sold at auction, the buyer has the distinction of paying the most for any work of art purchased at auction.

Combining the Picasso auction record with uncertainty in European sovereign debt, exacerbated now by the free for all following the British elections, there seems a profound disjunct that is as yet impossible to get one’s head around. Except that the records set- not only for Picasso but also for Matisse and Braque- were for artists and works well established in the canon. Buyers have turned their backs on contemporary art, except at the impulse buy level, making, it appears, defensive investments in fine art. English antiques cannot be far behind.

And why not? In uncertain markets, the traditional wisdom is to maintain liquidity so a significant investment in an illiquid asset might not make much sense. But with sovereign debt run amuck amongst nearly all countries of the world, in whose currency would one want to park a large amount of cash?

With the impressionist and modern sales occurring in New York as we speak, I would wager that it is more than just Christie’s and Sotheby’s whose breath is baited pending the outcome. No question, the Henri Matisse ‘Bouquet de fleurs…’ at Sotheby’s has the potential to be a record-breaker, but no one’s fortunes in the art and antiques world are made from the sale of one stellar item. Even so, trade sources are touting the possibility of the gaggle of sales in both rooms making in the $1billion range, and that should make even the most cash-strapped a bit more flush. Mind you, rents on the upper east side of Manhattan can rather quickly flatten even the fattest wallet.

My purpose in mentioning the spring impressionist sales is not, however, to comment on the fortunes of the major salerooms. It is that, for the art world, high profile sales are our equivalent of TARP money, with some huge dollars spent in any venue signaling to the larger art and antiques market that the bear is morphing into a bull. In the financial markets, Keynes referred to a change in perception as animal instincts, and while it would surprise me, albeit pleasantly, if the New York impressionist sales instigated a stampede of buyers, they might provide just the slightest nudge in the posterior of the too many still-hesitant punters. And we know you are out there…

Keith and I do not work well together. We do, most things, but when it comes to physical labor, our routines are not the same- I push when I should pull, and he the same- so as a consequence, Keith will set up our stand at an antiques fair with assistance from someone- anyone- other than my own good self. The trade in English antiques, as you can see, is fraught with domestic discord.

Keith does, fair to say, get the booth right, well, virtually all the time, and his placement of these mirrors was certainly clever. Of exquisite rococo form with warmly glaucous early period plate, while lovely seen straight on, Keith had them positioned so they could also be seen reflected in another mirrored piece, the doors of a George I bureau cabinet.  Masterful, but in a subtle way, as the brilliance of the mirrors was intriguingly modulated through the filter of the period glass fronting the bureau cabinet.

We are back, the truck has returned and the returning inventory has now been shoehorned into our galleries. The dust has, both literally and figuratively settled. We found the dust actually non-existent at the show venue, Barker Hangar at the Santa Monica Airport, as the weather was cold and damp. Make that very cold and very rainy. Doubtless couture choices were pushed into serious disarray for the gala preview.

More than acting as an erstwhile Mr. Blackwell, I sought less to critique wardrobe choices than assess interest in English antiques and fine art. Given our own selection of gear and that of our show neighbor Trinity House- and our prime position just inside the main entrance to the show- we had, pardon the immodesty, a great opportunity. To say that we were anxious to make an assessment after the economic morass that engulfed all of 2009 is an understatement. Although this has now become a cliché, we were unabashedly on the lookout for green shoots.

And maybe we found them, but not matured yet into the money tree. Or maybe they have. What’s apparent in our own gallery business is that everyone felt some sharp twinge in their pocketbook last year, translating into continued caution this year. You may read this another way as ‘no monumental at-show sales.’

But not to despair, because omitting last year, the Los Angeles Antiques Show, amidst the collectors, is heavily driven by the interior design trade. Purchase decisions have always at the show mostly been filtered through the designer, and the show just concluded will doubtless prove to be the same. We have always found the show a good source for follow-on business and consequently find it best to judge the success of the show with a sufficient time-lapse to allow plenty of designer-client-dealer palaver. Who knows? The money-tree may just have come in to leaf.

The Los Angeles Antiques Show is history, and following a week all day on my feet, my exhaustion prevents me from providing any rational discussion about the show. However, I can mention what always makes an extended stay in Los Angeles comfortable- comfort food from Canter’s on Fairfax.  Keith and I have become over the years delicatessen and dairy restaurant aficionados, and decry the lack of anything really like them in San Francisco. With all that, like so many other ethnic outposts, they become rather thin on the ground as the ethnic communities they serve become integrated. It is reassuring, however, that while a fair number of Canter’s regulars are, shall we say, of mature years, patrons of all stripes keep the place busy.

Keith is a fanatic for bagels and lox, and I suspect that would be his menu for his last meal on earth. My own background on the farm inclines me toward what are known as fancy meats, and ox tongue consequently is a favorite. My tongue sandwich yesterday at Canter’s was exquisite. In this age of celebrity chefs, to describe something as ostensibly lowly as a tongue sandwich as exquisite seems a non sequiter, but nothing else describes it adequately. Tasted delicious, surroundings comfortable- well, if my enjoyment was not an exquisite experience, I don’t know one. Oh, and free parking, too.