A Found Art Work That Defied The Rules Of Easy Detection; But Was Found On The Fourth Inspection

Full frame.  The two brown marks on the left side of the panel are the fingerprint evidence of a former owner who decided to stain the wood panel the painting is adhered to.

You can see the cloth weave that didn't successfully hold the paint the artist applied to the panel.

A close up of the gentleman collecting some aquatic provisions left at low tide.

IN COMPANY OF THE "PAINT-BY-NUMBERS" DWELLS A LITTLE PAINTED JEWEL

IT PAYS TO LOOK A LITTLE HARDER, A LITTLE LONGER, WITH THE KNOWLEDGE FUNNIER THINGS HAVE HAPPENED

     I have written a lot, in the past decade-plus, in one published column or another, about making big finds in the antique hunt and gather. I still run into folks, who have read those columns, who suggest to the contrary, "Yea, right Currie. You and your cronies have stripped the corn cob bare." I try to convince them that there is an art to this adventure-stuff, and that expertise is the best tool for discover, they still feel I have led them to believe there are many holy grails, and thousands of places to look for them; thus a waste of time engaging the hunt for what doesn't exist. I stop short of telling these failed antique hunters, that they have been impatient and simply gave up the quest too soon to realize any substantial find qualifying as a minor treasure. If I had thrown in the towel every time I was discouraged in the past four decades, I wouldn't have navigated past the first full year I engaged this storied profession in the first place. It's the failures and misadventures that fuel the passion, to keep on treasure hunting. But I should note here and now, that it takes a behemoth commitment to be a successful antique hunter. I was trained by the best in the business and that was my good fortune.
     What Dave Brown and Hugh MacMillan taught me, as veterans in their respective fields, about hunting for old books, old paper, and old anything, with a hidden or obscured value, was to never, ever be impatient when opportunity presents. Both men were highly accomplished in their fields of interest, and they well knew the importance of focus and due diligence, whether at an estate sale where a private library was being sold-off, or in a farm shed looking over thousands of old documents, letters and journals, stored for example, in a damp, weather-exposed shelter. I remember Hugh telling me about the dangers he had faced, and the consequences in later life, being exposed to so much mold-covered paper, that he had to sort through, in order to protect significant relics of Canadian history. As a result, a huge portion of Canadian history would have been turned back to the soil, from which it had originated, if not for the thousands of hours he dedicated to saving these mounds of at-risk heritage papers. So when the matter of patience was brought-up in conversation, between us, with a tutorial attached, I came to understand why both fellows, all-stars at what they enjoyed doing, could feel accomplished, and justified, for the thousands of hours invested on similar projects; on the gamble there was something unique and important to uncover. To spare all that could be reclaimed and conserved, having historical relevance to, for instance, a famous Canadian's biography, or validation of a long held belief that had otherwise never been conclusively proven; thus finding the evidence buried in a quagmire of old musty paper, might just have altered history as we knew it, based on new information recovered.
     The point of this little editorial piece today, is to point out, that this same advice, of patience, is a cornerstone of our own antique business. When I write about our business, it might seem to some readers, maybe all of our readers, that we're awfully fond of ourselves; possibly thinking we're the best of the best in the industry. Well, if you suspect we're ego-maniacs and wish to make our business look better than it is, in fact, and in economy, you need to go back and re-read a tad. It is definitely not the way we see ourselves, or operate our business. We are hugely self-critical people, who have never felt fully graduated from the apprenticeship period, offered so kindly by colleague antique professionals; ones we have and continue to look up to, as role models, and folks we wish to fashion ourselves as vendors, and parallel our philosophy of business, after their most desirable template of accomplishment. As far as we're concerned there is no learning curve, just "continuous learning," in a profession full to over-flowing with change, and dynamic, that can never be dismissed as a trivial pursuit. Many antique dealers through history have made errors in judgement that have cost them their businesses; betting the farm, so to speak, on what they thought was the holy grail, only to find out, it was a hundred percent less than what they had assessed when they made the purchase. The kind of unfortunate stuff that makes a good story, as long as you don't happen to be one of the characters.
     While the shop was closed earlier this week, so that sons Robert and Andrew could record a musical group from Toronto, in our studio, Suzanne and I had the opportunity to go antique hunting during the week. Most often, with shop responsibilities, we can only leave our post one day in the week, and possibly a couple of early mornings. We had a great time taking Muffin the dog all around Muskoka, and we found the usual antique and collectable pieces that our customers seem to appreciate, plus several pieces with unknown provenance that intrigued us. One of these pieces, that brought to mind the mentoring of both Hugh MacMillan and Dave Brown, is shown above today's blog, being blow-ups of the larger panel that was published earlier in the week on our Currie's Antiques facebook page. It caught my eye in the second hand shop, but I walked away from it three times. I could hear the echo of advisories both my friends would have offered me, in such a case of doubt, yet suspicion something was odd about the piece that had caught my eye.
     Suzanne had seen it leaning on a wall shelf, with some poor quality prints and a few paint-by-numbers panels, and on the fourth time back to visit the plaque-mounted image, Suzanne reminded me about the decoupage era, and how people loved to take old prints and adhere them to boards, with a protective coating, in order to make cheap, period wall hangings for home, cottage and apartment. I knew what she meant, but there was something that didn't measure up, to the simple explanation, that it was just a paper print varnished to a board, made to look a century older than it actually was.
     I stood there for ten minutes, examining it as carefully as possible, to ascertain whether the graphic was on paper, attached to board, or fabric, such as canvas; which of course would have suggested the art work was potentially original and not a cheap print made to look old. What was bothering me a little, was the fact the wood panel it was varnished onto, was unusually light in weight, suggesting that what I thought was wood, was actually a hardened foam, meaning this was a fraud and not a work of art worth my attention. I just decided, because we were running late, that I'd pay the three dollar asking price, and consider it a test of competence. If I got it home and it was proven to be a print made to look time-faded, I could find some use for the graphic which was rather interesting.
     I should also note, that there are two easy to distinguish fingerprints on the art panel itself, as seen on the left side, from a former owner who had stained the back board a shade of deep walnut, and then contaminated the art panel. (Not the biggest of problems). I thought this was suspicious as well. But I've had many of these situations develop in my years of hunting antiques, and on fifty percent of these occasions I was spot-on with my identification skills, and fifty percent, not-so-much. Antique dealers have a plethora of sad stories to go with the ones of huge successes.
     When I sat down to study the small art panel at home, with the aid of better lighting and magnification, I soon discovered my hunch in this case was right. The image was on cloth, of lighter consistency than painter's canvas, and had most likely been adhered to the wood panel by the artist responsible for the orignal work. Possibly several centuries ago. Around the edges there is a highly visible weave of fabric, and under magnification, it's clear there are brush strokes and tiny globs of paint, making it obvious that this was not a print, and definitely not on paper. It isn't to suggest the painting can't still be a copy of a known classic, yet the competence level is high enough to suggest it is most likely an original scene. The thinning of paint in the mid-section, which should be obvious to readers when viewing, it is clearly an original that has had somewhat suffered a hard life. The fabric is much thinner than what an artist would normally use; and it seems the painter responsible for this marine scene, selected what was available of material locally, for an affordable price, that would successfully hold paint. Knowing it wasn't perfect, and could breakdown some time in the future; and indeed, the paint has been diminished from these areas, by decades of improper conservation; and other environmental intrusions upon its integrity.
     The wood panel is not solid. I discovered that it was actually made into a thin box, and inch thick, that probably was framed more elaborately, with outside woodwork, and there is evidence of this provenance, looking at the condition of the outside edge of woodwork. I started to ponder what heritage document might be stored within; but I haven't the courage at this point to attempt to open the back for inspection in case I cause damage. The painting was was obviously undertaken by an accomplished artist, and despite the fact it has been surfaced-over with varnish, and has the fingerprints of a former owner, it is a delight to set in the proper illumination, and enjoy with a little background Mozart. Is it the painting that will earn Suzanne and I a more special (exotic) retirement than we already have? Not likely. But it does have a value, as of yet undetermined. But most of all, it is an example of what I have been reminding apprentice hunter-gatherers, who read these blogs, about being persistent and never being impatient, if, that is, you wish to find significant relics, on your for-fun-or-profit antique adventures. It is one of those examples I like to pull out, when someone comes into our Gravenhurst shop, and announces that "all the good antique pieces have been discovered by now; nothing left of any great worth." Nonsense. But should these half-hearted antique hunters believe their mantra, maybe then, they won't get in my way, when I'm hunting for finds like the one above; and every now and again, coming up with something a little extra, out on the hustings, that was said to be barren of all the best stuff of once upon a time.
     Every month we come up with one or more pieces that blow us away. Sometimes there are more, sometimes there are less. If you have the treasure hunting bug, you will know how one big find inspires a hundred other adventures. And remember. A big find, or a treasure by any other description, isn't always major because of its provenance. It's all in the eye of the beholder; and in this case, we are the holder of this antique work of art.