Paris Art Market Buzz: A Spring Awakening

By columnist Paul Paradis, Art Historian, Specialist Consultant in French Furniture and Decorative Arts.

5. May. 2010

While hurling through the Channel Tunnel on the Eurostar recently, I couldn’t help but reflect   upon how surprisingly interesting the auction scene in Paris has suddenly become the past few weeks.  The snowy Paris winter, the extended school holidays through most of March, the theft scandal at Drouot, all seemed to have descended like a dense negative fog offering no apparent escape.  I continued to survey the grim offerings at Drouot throughout the early months of the year. Having resigned myself to producing a kitsch essay about the bizarre array of objects (including life-sized hula dancers, stuffed tigers, and 19^th century ormolu clocks decorated with gallant knights about to embrace) I never managed to get past the first paragraph.

Stuffed tiger, Drouot January 2010       

Things started to bubble up towards the end of March, the week of the Salon du Dessin, the annual incontournable event for lovers of old master drawings held at the Palais Brongniart in Paris.  I will never forget the words of an old family friend (a highly-respected specialist on both Guercino (1591-1666) and Warhol) who once told me that drawings are the “chamber music of the art world”.  Music lovers will immediately understand the metaphor, which implies that people who love drawings are a small and specialized group within the larger ocean of painting connoisseurs.  An evening stroll through the Salon du Dessin, champagne flute in hand (which I had to purchase, since after all, this was not the vernissage) revealed an international public, mostly English speaking, catching up with old friends and rivals, bragging about their left bank pied-à-terres in a very matter-of-fact tone while pretending not to feel the pressure of competition from fellow collectors for the “good stuff”.  

The Palais Brongniart, Paris.

The offer was highly varied, ranging from 16^th century sword-bearing mythological warriors in brown ink, to scribbled skulls in red, yellow and black crayon by Jean-Michel Basquiat (1960-1988).  While gazing at a particularly dense study for a biblical scene by François Boucher (1703-1770) I couldn’t help but overhear the loud yet comforting voice of a friend working for the New York branch of an important French gallery.  Although his vocal demeanor conjures images of a hardened Wall Street trader rather than an art historian, his kindness and knowledge of French 18^th century works on paper are indisputable.  We gossiped about friends and colleagues, but then I decided it would be best to move on as the show would close in an hour and I had only just begun.

Back at Drouot the next day, seeing the crowds in the exhibition rooms, I realized that this would be the official re-launch of the season after the prolonged winter snooze.  The auction house Thierry de Maigret was offering a series of drawings by Jean-Auguste-Dominique Ingres (1780-1867) and Theodore Géricault (1791-1824) which seemed to be causing quite a stir.  Much the same crowd as the night before were murmuring and bustling around to see all of the treasures on display before they would be brought to the auction block the next day.   Lunch appointments and gallery visits were frenetically being arranged, and I felt a little dose of Manhattan stress creeping into the dusty rooms of Drouot.

A series of personally autographed portraits in lead pencil by Ingres, depicting Jean-Baptiste Marcotte (1773-1864) and his family (a close friend of the artist and notable inspector of forests and rivers) were the centre pieces of the sale.  His delicately executed portrait made €650 000 hammer price at the auction the next day, and that of his wife, Marie, €560 000. 

Portrait of Jean-Baptiste Marcotte d’Argenteuil, J. Ingres (Photo: Thierry de Maigret)

An exciting work by Géricault depicting the release of horses for the Mossa (free race) in Rome executed in pencil, brown wash and white highlights fetched €150 000.  The work is one of several studies of the same subject that the artist undertook during his stay in Rome from 1816-1817 in preparation for a large scale painting which was never realized.  It focuses on the second right before the liveries release their horses for a highly dangerous free-for-all race through the streets of Rome organized since antiquity, called the Mossa, which understandably fascinated many artists of the time.  While I busily texted the results in real time to a friend in New York (author of a book on Géricault and specialist on 19^th century French drawings) a sense of auction excitement welled up in me for the first time in months.

 

La course de chevaux libres à Rome, by T. Géricault (Photo: Thierry de Maigret)

A lesser known work by the same artist depicting a stocky yet handsome coalman’s horse in black pencil and watercolor on paper created more excitement later in the sale with its overly modest upper estimate of €7 000.  This interesting work dates from Géricault’s stay in London in 1821 when he became fascinated with the use of coal and it’s mode of transport.  Coal was not used in France until after 1828.  The zealous collectors jam-packing the room were drawn like moths to the flame, and pushed the hammer price up to a staggering €70 000.  Perhaps this was the downside of creating too much of a buzz?

Cheval de charbonnier, T. Géricault (Photo: Thierry de Maigret)

Feeling energized by the sudden burst of activity, I decided to go have a look at the other happenings and strolled into the adjoined rooms 5 and 6 where a large and eclectic collection from a private cabinet de curiosité was on display for auction the following day.  The auction house Piasa had covered the walls entirely in black felt, providing a contrasting backdrop to more than 100 old master paintings and drawings from the 15^th through 17^th centuries.  The highly restored works beamed bright hues of red, gold and blue from fruit-laden still lifes and skyward religious scenes, providing a feast for the eyes.  Raised platforms placed at the centre of the entire length of the rooms presented over 170 sculptures from the same period, and bizarrely, a large group of African masks, totems and artifacts.  The spirit of the Renaissance cabinet de curiosité (a vehicle to show off the culture as well as scientific and artistic knowledge of its princely owner) seemed to be taken to an extreme, but it worked.  I was curious as to the origin of the eccentric collection but the representatives of the auction house were sworn to silence, and to my chagrin, the catalogue was sold out.

Un cabinet de curiosité, auctioned by Piasa, 26 March 2010

A stunning oil on panel (formerly part of a harpsichord) by a follower of the great Renaissance painter and decorator of the Palazzo del Te in Mantua, Giulio Romano (1499-1546), caught my eye.   The fantastical depiction of Arion, the poet musician serenading the water nymphs and dolphins who, soothed by the power of his music,  would consequently save him from the horrible fate of drowning, was a charming example of the mannerist style which spread to France through the intervention of Italian artists at Fontainebleau under French king François I (1494-1547).  If authentic, it seemed a bargain at €6 000 to €8 000.  The gem fetched €8 674 at auction the next day.

Le triomphe d’Arion, follower of Giulio Romano, 1550 (Photo: Piasa)           

A near life-sized repentant Mary Magdalene in sculpted wood dominated another portion of the room.   Her devotional pose, with arms crossed over her chest and bowed head, are quite moving even for those not sensitive to religious themes.  The realism of her hair delicately falling onto the folds of her dress is reminiscent of the art of a later period, although she is from 18^th century Italy. This work attained the hammer price of €9 666.

Repentant Mary Magdalene, Italy 18^th century     

A putto in bronze from a 17^th century Florentine workshop seemed to wave good-bye as I exited the room, wondering jealously how anyone could have amassed so many beautiful things in our time.  He would fetch €19 827 the next day.  Not bad for a chubby little angel.

Putto in bronze, Florence 17^th century