20TH CENTURY MODERNIST, ABSTRACT & FIGURATIVE PAINTINGS
These are a few of my favorite things. Paintings I've bought, or rather collected, over the years. History lessons, research projects, fireside stories - the reasons why I love what I do. Each of these paintings holds a special place in my heart, my head and most importantly, my gut. For it always seems to be my gut that speaks the loudest. Go for it. I listened, as I always do. My heart followed, showing me all the things to love about the work. My head is the third piece of this trifecta, telling me that no matter the financial value, each of these paintings holds value to me. Because each spoke to me. Each is its own story. Each exists. And I was lucky enough to come across them. To share a bit of their story with you and to hopefully find a place for them in the future. So they can continue to inspire. But for now, they'll stay right where they are.
SIGNED WITH MONOGRAM, 1935
I bought this painting and the one just below from a dealer at the flea market in New York City. Researching the monogram has yielded nothing, so far. I'm wondering if the artist is British, not just because the subject matter in the other work - Saint Paul's cathedral - but also because the stretcher is lap jointed, rather than mitre cut. In my experience, lap jointed stretchers and frames are more than likely European, while mitre cut stretchers and frames are generally American. It's a generalization, but it's something. This work, a demolished architectural detail, reminds me of the work of John Armstrong, known for his surrealist works set in British landscapes.
I bought this painting and the one just below from a dealer at the flea market in New York City. Researching the monogram has yielded nothing, so far. I'm wondering if the artist is British, not just because the subject matter in the other work - Saint Paul's cathedral - but also because the stretcher is lap jointed, rather than mitre cut. In my experience, lap jointed stretchers and frames are more than likely European, while mitre cut stretchers and frames are generally American. It's a generalization, but it's something. This work, a demolished architectural detail, reminds me of the work of John Armstrong, known for his surrealist works set in British landscapes.
SIGNED WITH MONOGRAM, 1934
This oil on canvas is the second of the pair I purchased at the flea market in New York City in 2018 or so. St. Paul's cathedral in London is one of the most recognized buildings in the world. After surviving direct hits during the Blitz in World War II, the building also survived the ensuing fire. This painting is done much in the same style as the one above, showing architectural details and a semi exposed or even demolished ground surface. Now all that's left is to figure out the artist.
This oil on canvas is the second of the pair I purchased at the flea market in New York City in 2018 or so. St. Paul's cathedral in London is one of the most recognized buildings in the world. After surviving direct hits during the Blitz in World War II, the building also survived the ensuing fire. This painting is done much in the same style as the one above, showing architectural details and a semi exposed or even demolished ground surface. Now all that's left is to figure out the artist.
INDISTINCTLY SIGNED, DATED AND TITLED VERSO
This oil on panel is one of my favorite mysteries. I bought this a couple years ago from a dealer on Long Island. While there is plenty of information written in pen/marker verso, I just can't make out any of it. Yet. It looks like French writing and, of course, I'd love to believe that it is the work of one of the great French Surrealist artists.
This oil on panel is one of my favorite mysteries. I bought this a couple years ago from a dealer on Long Island. While there is plenty of information written in pen/marker verso, I just can't make out any of it. Yet. It looks like French writing and, of course, I'd love to believe that it is the work of one of the great French Surrealist artists.
UNSIGNED
It's in rough shape. And that simple fact alone was enough for the vendor selling it to price it reasonably. This large, circa 1940's oil on canvas of a pearl diver is one of two paintings I purchased one early morning at the flea market in New York City. I loved the saturated, jewel tone colors. I loved the subject matter of both. I loved the size. Enormous! I mean who doesn't love wall size art? The seller told me a tale that they both came from Coney Island. That could be true. The label on the back of this one is from an art supply shop that was on Livingston Street, right off Flatbush Avenue in Boerum Hill / Fort Greene, Brooklyn. So, I suppose this painting and the one below, could've made their way to Coney Island. Maybe an eatery there. Or a set backdrop in one of the themed rides? I still have more questions than answers so for now they'll stay in Manhattan.
It's in rough shape. And that simple fact alone was enough for the vendor selling it to price it reasonably. This large, circa 1940's oil on canvas of a pearl diver is one of two paintings I purchased one early morning at the flea market in New York City. I loved the saturated, jewel tone colors. I loved the subject matter of both. I loved the size. Enormous! I mean who doesn't love wall size art? The seller told me a tale that they both came from Coney Island. That could be true. The label on the back of this one is from an art supply shop that was on Livingston Street, right off Flatbush Avenue in Boerum Hill / Fort Greene, Brooklyn. So, I suppose this painting and the one below, could've made their way to Coney Island. Maybe an eatery there. Or a set backdrop in one of the themed rides? I still have more questions than answers so for now they'll stay in Manhattan.
UNSIGNED
This is the second of the two paintings purchased at the flea market that early morning. And I hope you can appreciate just how big this one is - it's just shy of eight feet wide and just over 4 feet high. So you can imagine just how happy everyone was on the subway when I made my way onto the car with both paintings. Definitely didn't make too many friends that day. But it was worth it to get these home. This painting has a lot of Chinese (?) symbolism going on, but what does it all mean? So far I'm thinking that the seated man is the Jade Emperor and the mythical beast in front of him is a Pixiu. Guesses at best and I'm open to suggestions.
This is the second of the two paintings purchased at the flea market that early morning. And I hope you can appreciate just how big this one is - it's just shy of eight feet wide and just over 4 feet high. So you can imagine just how happy everyone was on the subway when I made my way onto the car with both paintings. Definitely didn't make too many friends that day. But it was worth it to get these home. This painting has a lot of Chinese (?) symbolism going on, but what does it all mean? So far I'm thinking that the seated man is the Jade Emperor and the mythical beast in front of him is a Pixiu. Guesses at best and I'm open to suggestions.
UNSIGNED
If you know me, then you know I absolutely love a strong, powerful Abstract Expressionist painting. And this one ticks all the boxes. Great color. Amazing scale. Powerful brushstrokes. Unsigned. Yup, as usual it's a mystery. But that doesn't bother me, because I love to buy what I like. And the morning I bought this painting, there was a crowd of other dealers behind me. They were each trying to push past me to the pile of art that I was looking through. But, believe it or not, there are rules of etiquette at the flea market. Case in point, the first one there has the right to buy or pass, and they have the right to look through all of the pieces in a given lot. This doesn't mean everything on the vendors table, but rather the pieces that are all in a collection of objects. This abstract was one of a group of paintings that the vendor had just unloaded from his van. And since I was the first one there, I had first dibs to everything, somethings or nothing. I didn't feel the pressure of the line of dealers breathing down my neck, even though they were all commenting and complaining. I made sure that I saw each piece so I could finish going though the pile in a timeframe fair to me, the vendor and the other dealers. It was a win-win-win. Even though I bought the best stuff!
If you know me, then you know I absolutely love a strong, powerful Abstract Expressionist painting. And this one ticks all the boxes. Great color. Amazing scale. Powerful brushstrokes. Unsigned. Yup, as usual it's a mystery. But that doesn't bother me, because I love to buy what I like. And the morning I bought this painting, there was a crowd of other dealers behind me. They were each trying to push past me to the pile of art that I was looking through. But, believe it or not, there are rules of etiquette at the flea market. Case in point, the first one there has the right to buy or pass, and they have the right to look through all of the pieces in a given lot. This doesn't mean everything on the vendors table, but rather the pieces that are all in a collection of objects. This abstract was one of a group of paintings that the vendor had just unloaded from his van. And since I was the first one there, I had first dibs to everything, somethings or nothing. I didn't feel the pressure of the line of dealers breathing down my neck, even though they were all commenting and complaining. I made sure that I saw each piece so I could finish going though the pile in a timeframe fair to me, the vendor and the other dealers. It was a win-win-win. Even though I bought the best stuff!
UNSIGNED
Extra early one morning I was at the flea market in New York City, extra early because I was set up and therefore allowed in before the 6:30am start time. A fellow dealer had this in his space and I bought it. Just like that. Before any of the other dealers got in, or saw it, or could convince the vendor to keep it. There's a funny joke that goes something like this, "Two antique dealers are stranded on a deserted island. Business is great." This pretty much sums up the antique business today for so many of us. We're buying and selling, trading and swapping between and among each other. This large Abstract drawing was in his home for many years. And now it's in my home.
Extra early one morning I was at the flea market in New York City, extra early because I was set up and therefore allowed in before the 6:30am start time. A fellow dealer had this in his space and I bought it. Just like that. Before any of the other dealers got in, or saw it, or could convince the vendor to keep it. There's a funny joke that goes something like this, "Two antique dealers are stranded on a deserted island. Business is great." This pretty much sums up the antique business today for so many of us. We're buying and selling, trading and swapping between and among each other. This large Abstract drawing was in his home for many years. And now it's in my home.
L. SWEAT, 1954
I bought this painting several years ago in an antique mall in Connecticut. And I bought it just for the frame. The painting didn't even register to me. That is until after I paid for it. Then, I took another look at the frame, front and back, and was surprised to see the verso of the painting on board. There were color blocks laid out along with a pencil signature and date, "L. A. (o)r Q. Sweat" and dated 8/'54. The last name, Sweat, doesn't yield many artists and, yes, there is a Lynn Sweat - but I don't see this as his work. And so, I'll have to continue to research this Fauvist style interior scene.
I bought this painting several years ago in an antique mall in Connecticut. And I bought it just for the frame. The painting didn't even register to me. That is until after I paid for it. Then, I took another look at the frame, front and back, and was surprised to see the verso of the painting on board. There were color blocks laid out along with a pencil signature and date, "L. A. (o)r Q. Sweat" and dated 8/'54. The last name, Sweat, doesn't yield many artists and, yes, there is a Lynn Sweat - but I don't see this as his work. And so, I'll have to continue to research this Fauvist style interior scene.
INDISTINCTLY SIGNED, 1956
This is one of my favorites. It's a pastel on paper that I bought in the pay lot of the flea market in Chelsea back in 2003 or so. The vendor told me that is was by Zao Wou-Ki. Looking back, I'm laughing. But at the time, I had no idea who Zao Wou-Ki was or just what the implication of an attribution meant. Had I been paying attention to his market back in 2003, I would've known that the meager $100 price for the pastel on paper would yield a return of at least 1000 times and that figure would soon experience a meteoric rise. But, I had never heard of Zao Wou-Ki, so I simply smiled and handed over the cash. I just thought I was buying a great, 1950's, abstract artwork. And still today this is on my wall. And still today I don't know who created it. But it wasn't Zao Wou-Ki.
This is one of my favorites. It's a pastel on paper that I bought in the pay lot of the flea market in Chelsea back in 2003 or so. The vendor told me that is was by Zao Wou-Ki. Looking back, I'm laughing. But at the time, I had no idea who Zao Wou-Ki was or just what the implication of an attribution meant. Had I been paying attention to his market back in 2003, I would've known that the meager $100 price for the pastel on paper would yield a return of at least 1000 times and that figure would soon experience a meteoric rise. But, I had never heard of Zao Wou-Ki, so I simply smiled and handed over the cash. I just thought I was buying a great, 1950's, abstract artwork. And still today this is on my wall. And still today I don't know who created it. But it wasn't Zao Wou-Ki.
INDISTINCTLY SIGNED, TITLED HOMBRES Y MUJERES BAILANDO
You know when you're in a warehouse full of stuff and there are holes in the floors and holes in the ceiling and birds flying in and out and rain coming down and you're buying paintings? Yeah, me too. The warehouse is located in a rough part of Philadelphia. And I mean rough. So I felt totally at ease shopping there because I love an adventure. Walking up the rickety stairs, skipping over missing treads, I found myself on the third and top floor. Rain was falling lightly. I pushed aside a few crates of plumbing supplies and pulled this painting out to where I could get a better look. There was a layer of grit all over the surface, but I could see that it was a strong Abstract oil on canvas. Checking out the back, I read the title and saw the signature. While the artist saw fit to clearly write the title, twice no less, he or she felt it necessary to scribble their signature.
You know when you're in a warehouse full of stuff and there are holes in the floors and holes in the ceiling and birds flying in and out and rain coming down and you're buying paintings? Yeah, me too. The warehouse is located in a rough part of Philadelphia. And I mean rough. So I felt totally at ease shopping there because I love an adventure. Walking up the rickety stairs, skipping over missing treads, I found myself on the third and top floor. Rain was falling lightly. I pushed aside a few crates of plumbing supplies and pulled this painting out to where I could get a better look. There was a layer of grit all over the surface, but I could see that it was a strong Abstract oil on canvas. Checking out the back, I read the title and saw the signature. While the artist saw fit to clearly write the title, twice no less, he or she felt it necessary to scribble their signature.
UNSIGNED
It was because of the frame. That's what drew me in. The folky, even outsider art style was so honest and inventive in its use of materials. The pediment, cornice and capital shafts all spoke to a love of Greek architecture, as does the Surrealist style portrait of the woman, or Goddess. With a classically inspired hair style and a costume reminiscent of a toga, it all ties together so beautifully. The vendor from whom I purchased this had become a wonderful go to resource for art and I found myself purchasing something from him almost every time I saw him. The relationships we build in the antique business are often some of the most personal because we are constantly validating someone else's choice, style, taste and approach to business. When we sync with someone, the results are ours to keep as we celebrate our collections.
It was because of the frame. That's what drew me in. The folky, even outsider art style was so honest and inventive in its use of materials. The pediment, cornice and capital shafts all spoke to a love of Greek architecture, as does the Surrealist style portrait of the woman, or Goddess. With a classically inspired hair style and a costume reminiscent of a toga, it all ties together so beautifully. The vendor from whom I purchased this had become a wonderful go to resource for art and I found myself purchasing something from him almost every time I saw him. The relationships we build in the antique business are often some of the most personal because we are constantly validating someone else's choice, style, taste and approach to business. When we sync with someone, the results are ours to keep as we celebrate our collections.
OLD MASTERS, 19TH CENTURY, ANTIQUE & ILLUSTRATIVE
UNSIGNED
When I was a kid I was told not to ask ‘what if’ questions because they would only fill me with doubt and fear. I carried this explanation with me for many years until one day, rather than asking someone else, I asked myself, WHAT IF? And instead of being filled with doubt or fear, I was filled with confidence and strength. Because it was at that moment when I realized that context mattered. That I would be the one to ask and answer. I was standing in an indoor parking garage in NYC at 5 am with $1800 burning a hole in my pocket. The day before I had flipped a pair of frames and made that tidy profit. Rather than pay my rent, I asked myself WHAT IF. I was staring at a painting. A painting of a figure in armor. The flea market vendor told me that he had just bought this painting the day prior in Massachusetts. Fresh to the market. Literally. Now the proud owner of something completely out of my wheel house, the research began. WHAT IF questions would fuel my curiosity. When I bought the painting, it was filthy and the details were obscured. Only after a cleaning, did the painting begin to reveal itself. What was a portrait of a figure in armor, was now a portrait of St. Michael. But was there more? So I asked... WHAT IF this mid 16th Century Florentine painting was actually a portrait of Ugolino Martelli presented as Saint Michael. And WHAT IF he did actually commission it after Catherine de Medici made him Bishop of Glandeves. And WHAT IF the bejeweled armor was an actual suit somewhere in a collection today. And WHAT IF I could prove that this painting which sold through the 19th Century Old Master gallery W. Scott and Sons in Montreal actually left a paper trail of ownership. As of today, 12 years later, I still have WHAT IF questions. I still have the same curiosity. I still have the confidence and strength. And you know what I also have? The painting. So, WHAT IF I pour myself another glass of wine, settle in on my sofa and dig yet a little deeper into this mystery. Because WHAT IF I’m the one who will figure it all out.
When I was a kid I was told not to ask ‘what if’ questions because they would only fill me with doubt and fear. I carried this explanation with me for many years until one day, rather than asking someone else, I asked myself, WHAT IF? And instead of being filled with doubt or fear, I was filled with confidence and strength. Because it was at that moment when I realized that context mattered. That I would be the one to ask and answer. I was standing in an indoor parking garage in NYC at 5 am with $1800 burning a hole in my pocket. The day before I had flipped a pair of frames and made that tidy profit. Rather than pay my rent, I asked myself WHAT IF. I was staring at a painting. A painting of a figure in armor. The flea market vendor told me that he had just bought this painting the day prior in Massachusetts. Fresh to the market. Literally. Now the proud owner of something completely out of my wheel house, the research began. WHAT IF questions would fuel my curiosity. When I bought the painting, it was filthy and the details were obscured. Only after a cleaning, did the painting begin to reveal itself. What was a portrait of a figure in armor, was now a portrait of St. Michael. But was there more? So I asked... WHAT IF this mid 16th Century Florentine painting was actually a portrait of Ugolino Martelli presented as Saint Michael. And WHAT IF he did actually commission it after Catherine de Medici made him Bishop of Glandeves. And WHAT IF the bejeweled armor was an actual suit somewhere in a collection today. And WHAT IF I could prove that this painting which sold through the 19th Century Old Master gallery W. Scott and Sons in Montreal actually left a paper trail of ownership. As of today, 12 years later, I still have WHAT IF questions. I still have the same curiosity. I still have the confidence and strength. And you know what I also have? The painting. So, WHAT IF I pour myself another glass of wine, settle in on my sofa and dig yet a little deeper into this mystery. Because WHAT IF I’m the one who will figure it all out.
UNSIGNED
If someone offered to pay their bill to you with this painting, would you accept? Of course you would if you're a crazy, art-loving dealer! Let me explain the situation with a joke: "There are two antique dealers on a deserted island. Business is great." Never gets old because it's so true. You see, I had sold something to another dealer and he paid me with this painting. When I got it, it was barely hanging on to it's replaced stretcher. It had a super dry surface. It was in serious need of restoration. It was unsigned. It had no original frame to aid in its attribution. It was a mess and a mystery. And I loved it! I jumped at the chance to go back to the barter system. I thought of famous artists who paid their tabs with paintings, drawings, scribbles on napkins. As I saw it I was way ahead of the game. Then came the restoration. With a light touch, my restorer edge lined the painting and built a new stretcher. Now with a fresh coat of varnish, the painting was ready to hang. No longer a mess, but still a mystery. Have you Googled "Dutch+still+life+painting" lately? I have. And let me tell you, they all look alike. I know I'm not supposed to say this, but my eye is not honed to see those subtle differences. Yet. Is this 19th Century? 18th Century? Did I totally luck out and buy, um trade, a 17th Century Dutch still life painting? The short answer is I don't know. But the clues are there. The outdoor setting. The combination of grapes and flowers. The little lizards walking around. The urn itself. Even the types of flowers. It's all there. And for now it's all gonna stay there. Or more to the point, in my hallway. As another work in my favorite unsigned mystery collection category, I'll continue to Google the keywords until I get them just right. It will be then when the artist, their style, their technique becomes so blindingly obvious that I'll wonder how I didn't see it years earlier.
If someone offered to pay their bill to you with this painting, would you accept? Of course you would if you're a crazy, art-loving dealer! Let me explain the situation with a joke: "There are two antique dealers on a deserted island. Business is great." Never gets old because it's so true. You see, I had sold something to another dealer and he paid me with this painting. When I got it, it was barely hanging on to it's replaced stretcher. It had a super dry surface. It was in serious need of restoration. It was unsigned. It had no original frame to aid in its attribution. It was a mess and a mystery. And I loved it! I jumped at the chance to go back to the barter system. I thought of famous artists who paid their tabs with paintings, drawings, scribbles on napkins. As I saw it I was way ahead of the game. Then came the restoration. With a light touch, my restorer edge lined the painting and built a new stretcher. Now with a fresh coat of varnish, the painting was ready to hang. No longer a mess, but still a mystery. Have you Googled "Dutch+still+life+painting" lately? I have. And let me tell you, they all look alike. I know I'm not supposed to say this, but my eye is not honed to see those subtle differences. Yet. Is this 19th Century? 18th Century? Did I totally luck out and buy, um trade, a 17th Century Dutch still life painting? The short answer is I don't know. But the clues are there. The outdoor setting. The combination of grapes and flowers. The little lizards walking around. The urn itself. Even the types of flowers. It's all there. And for now it's all gonna stay there. Or more to the point, in my hallway. As another work in my favorite unsigned mystery collection category, I'll continue to Google the keywords until I get them just right. It will be then when the artist, their style, their technique becomes so blindingly obvious that I'll wonder how I didn't see it years earlier.
INDISTINCTLY SIGNED
I’ll be the first one to say that I’m a work in progress. Not long ago I did not see progress - only stagnation. There was no fluidity or movement, only a sense of being locked in place. And the place where I was, was not the place I wanted to be. But how do we move when we feel locked in? We pick the lock. We cut the lock. We break the lock. It takes strength, determination and focus to move. Most of all it takes direction. Where are you now and where do you want to be? Knowing these two things is the start to movement. But in order to know where you are and where you want to be, you have to see the movement. None of that is possible when we are fixated. Case in point, this painting. Perhaps you saw my post on how I took this painting into the bathroom the other day to black light it in hopes of deciphering the signature. I had bought it a couple years ago and was fixated on the name. Unable to read it, I gave up. The ‘it’ was my failure at reading the name which I saw as the only entry point to unlocking the story of the painting. So when I black lit it, I had not moved from my previous position - still completely locked in place. That is, until yesterday. I was watching my daughters’ Muay Thai class and listening to the coaches speak about movement. They wanted all the students to move while practicing the combination. I happened to have my laptop with me, so I did a little moving too. Instead of pinpointing my view of the painting from only one angle, I moved. I keyed in a few terms and started to scroll through images. One after another, each with a different view from a different place. Until I saw where I wanted to be. Along the docks of the Louvre, looking past the Pont des Arts and on to Notre Dame. I was in Paris in the turn of the last Century. Hearing the noises of the cranes on the barges on the Seine. Watching as the river flowed. No, I still don’t know the artist. But I’m moving on the path to understanding the painting. And the Pont des Arts? That’s the bridge that had all the padlocks on it. Locks declaring love. Love locked in place. Well they’ve all been removed. Seems the City of Love prefers not to have its love locked in place.
I’ll be the first one to say that I’m a work in progress. Not long ago I did not see progress - only stagnation. There was no fluidity or movement, only a sense of being locked in place. And the place where I was, was not the place I wanted to be. But how do we move when we feel locked in? We pick the lock. We cut the lock. We break the lock. It takes strength, determination and focus to move. Most of all it takes direction. Where are you now and where do you want to be? Knowing these two things is the start to movement. But in order to know where you are and where you want to be, you have to see the movement. None of that is possible when we are fixated. Case in point, this painting. Perhaps you saw my post on how I took this painting into the bathroom the other day to black light it in hopes of deciphering the signature. I had bought it a couple years ago and was fixated on the name. Unable to read it, I gave up. The ‘it’ was my failure at reading the name which I saw as the only entry point to unlocking the story of the painting. So when I black lit it, I had not moved from my previous position - still completely locked in place. That is, until yesterday. I was watching my daughters’ Muay Thai class and listening to the coaches speak about movement. They wanted all the students to move while practicing the combination. I happened to have my laptop with me, so I did a little moving too. Instead of pinpointing my view of the painting from only one angle, I moved. I keyed in a few terms and started to scroll through images. One after another, each with a different view from a different place. Until I saw where I wanted to be. Along the docks of the Louvre, looking past the Pont des Arts and on to Notre Dame. I was in Paris in the turn of the last Century. Hearing the noises of the cranes on the barges on the Seine. Watching as the river flowed. No, I still don’t know the artist. But I’m moving on the path to understanding the painting. And the Pont des Arts? That’s the bridge that had all the padlocks on it. Locks declaring love. Love locked in place. Well they’ve all been removed. Seems the City of Love prefers not to have its love locked in place.
UNSIGNED
I bought this oil painting back in 2009 from a friend and fellow antique dealer. I had just given birth to my second daughter a week earlier. Basking in the glory of being a new mom (again) I was also excited to get back to work at the same time. There's an old joke that goes like this, "There are two antiques dealers on a deserted island. Business is great." That couldn't be more true. We are a bunch of merchants, historians and peddlers who thrive on the hunt and the deal. We search out the rare. The sublime. The unique. And we get each other. My colleague had bought the painting from another dealer who we both know. This dealer, the source, used to have a store on Sixth Avenue in SoHo. I started buying from this dealer when I had first moved to New York in 2002. He always had an incredible selection of art and antiquities for sale, and he always took the time to share a little of his knowledge with me. So it's no surprise that it's the story behind the piece that I'm most fascinated by. It's the research on the piece. It's being part of the history of something as it passes from one hand to the next. From one generation to the next. We are simply the vehicle to carry it forward. This antique painting from the 19th Century has always had a great appeal to me. I love a mystery. Who is she? Why is she playing the violin for someone. Who is this man? Is he a soldier who is dying? What is their story? Their connection? And why, oh why, didn't the artist sign the painting!?!?! For now, it's still a mystery on my wall, and if you ask me, it has a John Singer Sargent vibe to it.
I bought this oil painting back in 2009 from a friend and fellow antique dealer. I had just given birth to my second daughter a week earlier. Basking in the glory of being a new mom (again) I was also excited to get back to work at the same time. There's an old joke that goes like this, "There are two antiques dealers on a deserted island. Business is great." That couldn't be more true. We are a bunch of merchants, historians and peddlers who thrive on the hunt and the deal. We search out the rare. The sublime. The unique. And we get each other. My colleague had bought the painting from another dealer who we both know. This dealer, the source, used to have a store on Sixth Avenue in SoHo. I started buying from this dealer when I had first moved to New York in 2002. He always had an incredible selection of art and antiquities for sale, and he always took the time to share a little of his knowledge with me. So it's no surprise that it's the story behind the piece that I'm most fascinated by. It's the research on the piece. It's being part of the history of something as it passes from one hand to the next. From one generation to the next. We are simply the vehicle to carry it forward. This antique painting from the 19th Century has always had a great appeal to me. I love a mystery. Who is she? Why is she playing the violin for someone. Who is this man? Is he a soldier who is dying? What is their story? Their connection? And why, oh why, didn't the artist sign the painting!?!?! For now, it's still a mystery on my wall, and if you ask me, it has a John Singer Sargent vibe to it.
INDISTINCTLY SIGNED, 1904
This painting almost got me into a fight. Seriously. It was an early morning at the flea market and I was on the hunt for quality picture frames. But it was an unusually sparse morning with very few vendors set up. I reluctantly headed over to a vendor who always has a pile of junk on his table. I mean junk. Broken pots, wobbly chairs, paintings with holes in them - you get the gist. And so when I found myself in his space, I knew that the day would be a wash. That is of course before I saw this painting. It was in an old Dewar's box that had some broken frames and high school diplomas. I rifled through the box only because the saw the edges and the frames and wondered if there might be something good. And there was. As soon as I lifted the painting from the box, another dealer yelled out to the vendor, "How much for the painting?". I looked at him quizzically. I wondered just what painting he was referring to with his question. The vendor looked towards him, oh did I mention he had sidled right up next to me, and yelled back 'Hunnert". I yelled back "SOLD." Needless to say the vendor was confused, but happy with the sale. The other dealer meanwhile started to yell into the air about the unfairness of it all and that he can't make any money in this business. Needless to say, I understood just how he felt, but none of that was my problem. I paid the vendor and left the market with the painting. And, of course, it's still a mystery.
This painting almost got me into a fight. Seriously. It was an early morning at the flea market and I was on the hunt for quality picture frames. But it was an unusually sparse morning with very few vendors set up. I reluctantly headed over to a vendor who always has a pile of junk on his table. I mean junk. Broken pots, wobbly chairs, paintings with holes in them - you get the gist. And so when I found myself in his space, I knew that the day would be a wash. That is of course before I saw this painting. It was in an old Dewar's box that had some broken frames and high school diplomas. I rifled through the box only because the saw the edges and the frames and wondered if there might be something good. And there was. As soon as I lifted the painting from the box, another dealer yelled out to the vendor, "How much for the painting?". I looked at him quizzically. I wondered just what painting he was referring to with his question. The vendor looked towards him, oh did I mention he had sidled right up next to me, and yelled back 'Hunnert". I yelled back "SOLD." Needless to say the vendor was confused, but happy with the sale. The other dealer meanwhile started to yell into the air about the unfairness of it all and that he can't make any money in this business. Needless to say, I understood just how he felt, but none of that was my problem. I paid the vendor and left the market with the painting. And, of course, it's still a mystery.
CONTEMPORARY & 21ST CENTURY
CLINTEL STEED, 2019
Historically, the portrait has been reserved for the wealthiest as a statement to future generations that their presence was something to celebrate. Family portraits were often done to show unity, strength and power. The bonds were on display for all to see. One cannot easily find a portrait commissioned by a person or family from any other class but the most elite in society. Today, class lines still exist no matter how much we'd like to think that they don't. And that was a big motivation for me when I commissioned Clintel Steed to paint our portrait. Mr. Steed told me that a portrait done by him is an incredible commitment - he does not paint from a photograph. And so my daughters and I spent many Saturdays in Steed's Brooklyn studio, doing our best to remain focused, relaxed, poised and perfectly still. I'll give you three guesses as to who was chastise the most for moving. Ha ha ha. And so today, this large scale portrait hangs in my daughters room in our apartment. It's a beautiful testament to our family and our love of art.
Historically, the portrait has been reserved for the wealthiest as a statement to future generations that their presence was something to celebrate. Family portraits were often done to show unity, strength and power. The bonds were on display for all to see. One cannot easily find a portrait commissioned by a person or family from any other class but the most elite in society. Today, class lines still exist no matter how much we'd like to think that they don't. And that was a big motivation for me when I commissioned Clintel Steed to paint our portrait. Mr. Steed told me that a portrait done by him is an incredible commitment - he does not paint from a photograph. And so my daughters and I spent many Saturdays in Steed's Brooklyn studio, doing our best to remain focused, relaxed, poised and perfectly still. I'll give you three guesses as to who was chastise the most for moving. Ha ha ha. And so today, this large scale portrait hangs in my daughters room in our apartment. It's a beautiful testament to our family and our love of art.
CLINTEL STEED, 2016
Sometimes when you're friends with a contemporary artist, you are given opportunities to buy their art. And when you buy contemporary art you're supporting the arts in one of the most powerful ways. You're handing that money directly to the artist - supporting their work, paying a bill, encouraging them to continue to create, validating their output - however you like to see it, you're a big part of what they're doing. And when you share their work with others, through social media or on a website, you're further solidifying your support of the arts!
Sometimes when you're friends with a contemporary artist, you are given opportunities to buy their art. And when you buy contemporary art you're supporting the arts in one of the most powerful ways. You're handing that money directly to the artist - supporting their work, paying a bill, encouraging them to continue to create, validating their output - however you like to see it, you're a big part of what they're doing. And when you share their work with others, through social media or on a website, you're further solidifying your support of the arts!
CLINTEL STEED, 2006
I'll tell you exactly how this portrait came to be. It was 2006 and I was selling picture frames to clients, art galleries, other dealers - pretty much anyone who I could - and one afternoon I was in the Upper East Side gallery of a very good client. This gallerist also represented Clintel Steed. And Mr. Steed happened to be in the gallery on the very same afternoon. I can't say that the initial introduction went well because I was rude. When I caught Steed's gaze and he followed it up with, "I'd love to paint your portrait" I behaved like someone who didn't know how to take a proper compliment. I told him that I wasn't that kind of girl. Luckily for me, both Steed and the galleriest began to laugh relieving me of any further embarrassment. The galleriest then explained that Mr. Steed was an artist and that I should be honored if he would paint my portrait. I then laughed too, mostly at myself, and Clintel and I are friends to this day. As are our daughters. The bonds in art run deep!
I'll tell you exactly how this portrait came to be. It was 2006 and I was selling picture frames to clients, art galleries, other dealers - pretty much anyone who I could - and one afternoon I was in the Upper East Side gallery of a very good client. This gallerist also represented Clintel Steed. And Mr. Steed happened to be in the gallery on the very same afternoon. I can't say that the initial introduction went well because I was rude. When I caught Steed's gaze and he followed it up with, "I'd love to paint your portrait" I behaved like someone who didn't know how to take a proper compliment. I told him that I wasn't that kind of girl. Luckily for me, both Steed and the galleriest began to laugh relieving me of any further embarrassment. The galleriest then explained that Mr. Steed was an artist and that I should be honored if he would paint my portrait. I then laughed too, mostly at myself, and Clintel and I are friends to this day. As are our daughters. The bonds in art run deep!
ARTURO HO
This is one of my favorite portraits - it's a portrait of a dog I had the pleasure of adopting many, many years ago. And the artist, Arturo Ho, is a friend of mine from childhood. Mr. Ho beautifully captured the energy and enthusiasm of a puppy and I continue to cherish this painting until today. As I cherish my friendship with Mr. Ho.
This is one of my favorite portraits - it's a portrait of a dog I had the pleasure of adopting many, many years ago. And the artist, Arturo Ho, is a friend of mine from childhood. Mr. Ho beautifully captured the energy and enthusiasm of a puppy and I continue to cherish this painting until today. As I cherish my friendship with Mr. Ho.
ARTURO HO, 1992
This is one of the first pieces of art that I received. It was a gift from the artist, Arturo Ho. When I first received this, I saw the image as purely abstract. As my life changed and I welcomed my two daughters, this work took on another life as well. I now see a young lady reading a book with the sun radiating behind her. I'm so thankful to Mr. Ho for sharing this art with me and my daughters.
This is one of the first pieces of art that I received. It was a gift from the artist, Arturo Ho. When I first received this, I saw the image as purely abstract. As my life changed and I welcomed my two daughters, this work took on another life as well. I now see a young lady reading a book with the sun radiating behind her. I'm so thankful to Mr. Ho for sharing this art with me and my daughters.
MICHAEL PENN & NATASHA HULME, 2019
I bought this painting while I was set up at a flea market in New Jersey. But I didn't buy it in New Jersey, I bought it online. The artists, Michael Penn and Natasha Hulme are friends of mine going back over thirty five years ago. I met Ms. Hulme in high school and I met Mr. Penn, her boyfriend, a couple years later. I was immediately drawn to Mr. Penn's street photography as he captured the Philadelphia of my youth. Gritty and powerful images don't in black and white. It was after I moved to New York City, that Ms. Hulme and Mr. Penn told me that he had lived in New York for many years prior to living in Philly. Mr. Penn had a deep relationship with the city that I now called home and would make trips to New York to capture images of a city that was rapidly changing. This painting was done by Ms. Hulme from a photo that Mr. Penn took. As soon as I saw it posted on their social media, I messaged them to purchase it. I was drawn to it for a few reasons - it was created by friends, it is an image of a business that was the victim of gentrification - a business that catered to artists, as well as an image of a building on Canal Street which played a part as a street for many artist studios. It's a wonderful reminder of what was.
I bought this painting while I was set up at a flea market in New Jersey. But I didn't buy it in New Jersey, I bought it online. The artists, Michael Penn and Natasha Hulme are friends of mine going back over thirty five years ago. I met Ms. Hulme in high school and I met Mr. Penn, her boyfriend, a couple years later. I was immediately drawn to Mr. Penn's street photography as he captured the Philadelphia of my youth. Gritty and powerful images don't in black and white. It was after I moved to New York City, that Ms. Hulme and Mr. Penn told me that he had lived in New York for many years prior to living in Philly. Mr. Penn had a deep relationship with the city that I now called home and would make trips to New York to capture images of a city that was rapidly changing. This painting was done by Ms. Hulme from a photo that Mr. Penn took. As soon as I saw it posted on their social media, I messaged them to purchase it. I was drawn to it for a few reasons - it was created by friends, it is an image of a business that was the victim of gentrification - a business that catered to artists, as well as an image of a building on Canal Street which played a part as a street for many artist studios. It's a wonderful reminder of what was.