John Henry - Epilogue

John Henry

Epilogue

            Returning to the bullet list (Part Six) and ...modifying and blocking it to become:

            I found the painting.

            I was hired to do that.

            I discovered the painting.

            I was hired to do that.

            I understand the painting.

            I understand the painting’s history.

            I understand the painting’s heritage.

            I understand how valuable the painting is.

            I understand how much the painting is worth.

            I understand the problems of realizing the worth of the painting.

            I was not hired to do that.

            But I will write about it anyway.

            Before recording the bullet list (in Part Six) I write about the physical condition of the painting... as I discover it; at the time of discovery.  In the gallery and presented for auction, I ...discovered... a ‘destroyed’ painting.  The physical destruction is easier to record than the ‘other’ destructions.  The other destructions are more devastating ... especially when confronting “the problems of realizing the worth of the painting”.

            Physically, the painting was in its original frame when discovered.  This frame most probably was a frame selected and paid for by the artist AND was placed on the painting in the same local as the painting was painted.  It had been ‘on’ the painting from day one after the painting was painted.  It was ‘undisturbed’ in that state.  It was, additionally, very attractive and very appropriate to the painting; it ‘complimented’ the painting and created a ‘whole package’. 

The heirs did not like this frame.  They did not understand the frame.  They wanted a ‘fancier’ frame that reflected what they in their mind’s eye felt was a ‘good’ and ‘proper’ frame for what they felt was a VERY GOOD (cash valuable) PAINTING.  They took the original frame off and... no one knows what happened to it.  They allowed the auction gallery to ‘supply’ a ‘new frame’ that they (the consigners) ‘liked’.  Just what do these heirs know about frames on old oil painting anyway?

            The one heir was in contact with and being advised (?) by an antiques picker specializing in paintings she happened to meet (?) who ‘helped her’ ‘value’ and ‘sell’ the painting.  This picker, I assume, quickly determined that he was not going to be able to buy (get) the painting for himself... because the heirs/estate felt the painting was ‘worth a lot’... so decided to hang around anyway ‘just in case’.  He saw the painting in its undisturbed condition in the original frame.

            Did that undisturbed condition state mean anything to him?  It should have... with it especially having meaning to him as a commercial positive IF HE ...owned the painting himself and wanted to sell it for ‘a realizing the worth of the painting’ price.  YET he ‘stood by’ and allowed the heirs to both remove and loose (?) the original frame AND ‘have the painting cleaned’  This ‘cleaning’ the picker evidently did not just ‘stand by’ but actually ARRANGED... after the heirs, evidently, found the auction gallery’s cleaning price to be too high... in their opinion.  What do the heirs know about cleaning paintings and the cost of doing that?  What does this picker know about that too?  HE... does get paintings ‘cleaned’ but, assuredly, only those he ‘has to’ ‘to sell’ so ‘gets the cheapest job possible.  (?).  Also... this picker did not simply ‘stand by’ when the heirs sought to auction the painting but contacted, guided and middlemaned the choice of the Maine auction gallery... for a ‘compensation’.  (?).  From whom?

            The heirs had the painting BADLY cleaned.  This means the original dry surface of the undisturbed painting is... scrubbed... to ‘brighten it up’ to a TOO BRIGHT and to a ‘worn’ (as if sanded with fine sand paper) ‘surface’... that they then ‘varnish’ TOO.  Not only is all soiling removed but all traces of any age toning are removed too; the surface of the painting is ‘skinned’ to show a new shiny surface with ‘varnish’ ‘put on’ and that being so gooey on the cleaned surface that it makes the surface ‘look sticky’ when ‘it dries’.  Evidently the heirs (and the picker?) liked this cleaning job; they like the way the painting looks ‘cleaned’ and in its ‘new frame’.  What do they know about any of this anyway?  But also understand... why would the picker care what happens to the painting since he has ‘nothing in it’ for him?

            The heirs knew of the history of the painting.  The picker could have heard about the history of the painting as told to him by one of the heirs.  But:  The picker had never been to the “CAMP”.  He knew nothing of the area and the lake in Maine where the “CAMP” is.  And... he knew nothing of the heritage of the painting (Part Seven).  Too.

            The heirs, too, knew nothing of the heritage of the painting; the family contact with the artists painting in the area, on the lake and the CAMP’s roll in this as heritage of art in the region AND the visiting artist’s relations with the family, lake and the “CAMP”.  The heritage merged with the history of the painting... is NOT identified and attached to the painting.  The heirs do not configure this, the picker does not hear of it and the auction gallery knows only that “the consigners are from the Albany, New York area”.  The history and heritage of the painting... is lost.  THAT is the biggest loss; the painting is adrift with ‘no ties’ to any thing, place, time or people.  How can one fully realize the worth of the painting without this?

            The result is the physical destruction of the painting AND destruction... with complete loss... of the heritage and the history of the painting.  Left physically untouched – undisturbed with a concise ‘nothing has been done to this painting AND it is in its original frame AND it is totally as found in the estate’ ...sale condition statement... and... this condition being visibly obvious to ‘anyone who knows anything about old paintings... and ...this being here a John Henry Twachtman ‘unknown until now’ painting.  TOO.... :  WITH full single owner family documented history of ownership AT their Maine camp on the Maine Lake WHERE John Henry stayed, painted and PAINTED THIS PAINTING of the back yard of THE CAMP while he and his fellow New England artists visited this region in their ‘summers’ as is well documented and of significant artist heritage to the region, the lake and THE CAMP...:  How can one not be PLEASED to ...have a chance to... buy at auction... a highly singular work of art with... really... everything one could want for image, condition, history, heritage and collection qualities?  Why would this painting then NOT be a ‘major addition’ to ANY COLLECTION?  And bring a price well above estimate (over 100K)?  No similar ‘package’ can be found... ever.  But as it stands now... that same package is ...gone forever:

            A perfectly exceptional New England painting with outstanding heritage and history...was destroyed... by its owners... who will never ‘understand what they did’.  Wrong.

            Two more hot spots may be brought in to further compliment the fine quality of the painting AND compliment the destruction of the painting.

            The first is the... scarcely mentioned within this whole story... relative merit of THIS painting to ALL OTHER John Henry paintings.  It is the simple ‘is it a good one?’; a ‘good Twachtman’ as demarked by comparison to all ‘Twachtman’s’.  Yes it is.  I am not going to go into a scholarly tennis match of ball-hit-over-net of Twachtman paintings.  ANYONE could have done that with this painting at any time.  In briefest short, it is a middle period ‘best period’ New England impressionist composition done in Twachtman’s preferred-by-critics/collectors ‘loose’ style (as found in his Greenwich, CT back yard compositions) where he ‘just painted it’ and didn’t ...try too hard or ‘carry’ his European-French influences ‘on to the canvas’.  This is because he really was sitting in the back yard of the “CAMP” on a lake in the woods in Maine when he ... ‘YEAH COOL’... painted ‘it’.  I... can duck away from this... connoisseurship frontier of ‘relative merit’ for ...it... was... really... up to the HEIRS, the ESTATE, that PICKER and/or the AUCTION GALLERY OWNER... to do that.  TO DO THAT; measure the merit.

            It is ...the auction gallery owner... for whom that would be the paramount of that; the measured merit of this painting.  AND is the second hot spot.

            MAYBE... this auction gallery was not the best referral choice given to and taken by the estate BUT... it was not ‘bad’.  So I throw that out and look at this hot spot as it was ‘fixed’; as it was THE CHOICE.  Here then the two flaws of actions taken; the cleaning and the history/heritage attachments... merge with the early-in-the-process camera-in-purse photograph of the painting... ‘not done well’ to create a... ‘heading in the wrong direction and keep going in that wrong direction’ with Mr. Auction Gallery Owner...:  The photograph came t him (“EMAIL”) from the picker who was ‘shopping it around’.  The background on this painting... for the picker did not ‘have’ (OWN) the painting... was ...skimpy.  STILL Mr. Auction Gallery Owner ‘rose to the bait’ and... and... by the time he was able to actually SEE the ACTUAL PAINTING ...it had been ‘cleaned’ and ...the frame gone; it was a sticky, shiny oil painting unframed... brought into the gallery by an heir in behalf of the estate presumably NOT accompanied by the picker.  SOOOO... Mr. Auction Gallery Owner was, to say the least, ‘not expecting it to look like that’ so was not only caught by surprise but also... “BUMMER” “YOU DID WHAT”... internally... while being Mr. Auction Gallery Owner ...externally... with Ms. Estate Heir... through the ...play it out... consignment dance... ALL THE WHILE going “I CAN’T BELIEVE THIS” to himself with this causing what HE called “lost my momentum” (Part Twelve); a simple ‘I don’t like it’ INTERNAL so... ‘walked away’ from the WHOLE painting package with ‘no interest’ and ...never getting to the history or heritage that he didn’t know existed anyway AND:

            That is why the painting was ‘tucked’ behind the door at the front (rear wall during the sale) of the gallery with ‘no comment’.  The one guy the estate needed most as an enthusiastic handler for ‘realizing the worth of the painting’ the estate ‘pissed off’ and ‘bummed out’ THE MOMENT he first saw ‘the painting’.  They lost the man they needed most; the man who DOES KNOW WHAT TO DO... to realize the worth of the painting... and NEVER KNEW THEY were ‘doing that’.  And still don’t.

            When I looked at the painting with him, HE HAD HIS ARMS FOLDED and was wondering WHY... AM... I... ‘looking at that’.

            How would I have handled this; the discovery and sale of the painting?  IF... I were able to purloin the painting from the estate by some unknown transaction route...:  That would probably never, ever have happened for the one heir... in her high school bedroom... had already hand built herself the highway to Hell for the painting... I would have:

            Not disturbed the painting in ANY way including touching the surface of the painting AND FRAME.. AT ALL... even with the lightest ‘wipe’ of a hanky.  THAT; disturbing the surface is for the BUYER to do AFTER I’ve been paid.

            I would have taken no photographs of the painting or allowed any photographs to be taken including by the estate (this wouldn’t have been a problem simply because in most cases they ‘don’t think to do that’).

            I would show the painting to NO ONE

            Until I had ALL of the heritage and history ducks in a row, summarized to my personal satisfaction, as a packet SO IT COULD CLEARLY ...and in writing... be handed to THE BUYER

            While I ‘meanwhile over here’ did the BASIC ‘relative merit’ of Twachtman’s work comparison... into a clear written packet TOO... that included specific collection references and examples (in museums)... :

            Then, calmly, I would have reviewed ...based on my trade experience the ‘how is the best way’ and ‘who is the best way’ and ‘auction-collector-museum-private sale?’ ROUTES... to:

            My preferred route is to PRIVATE SALE ...of a very clearly supported  UNKNOWN, undiscovered, PERFECT undisturbed condition HIGH MERIT painting to a WELL ESTABLISHED ...PRIVATE... collector/collection who know (have a track record I know well... of knowing what they are doing in cases like this) to PAY for these quality options including again the word PRIVATE... so that THEY acquire an undiscovered jewel of New England impressionist painting guaranteed by ME to be a full ‘what you see is what you get’ including all packets... “SURPRISE I LOVE IT” (when finally ‘shown the painting’)... so that THEY... MAY... DO... ANYTHING... THEY WANT... with the painting ...including auction it themselves, clean it or... most probably... place it on loan for eventual donation “TO” “A MUSEUM”... ‘in their name’ (the bronze plaque factor).

            This last is the hardest for this client type to get; a object that is that good and that ‘clean to the market – fresh to the market’ that it ‘gets them’ ‘a bronze plaque’ with their name on it... in the whatever-where ever collection; the ‘legacy’, the posterity, the kudos, the scholarly article about the ‘discovery’ the...

“They paid me.”

            And I say nothing to anyone at all ever.

            Ever.

            What did I actually get out of this tale about John Henry?  The club sandwich.  That’s why I started the story with that.  It was a good sandwich.  I saved the receipt.

The End.

John Henry - Part Twelve

John Henry

Part Twelve

            The odd... and objective... ‘my feeling’... at this juncture of this second physical encounter of this painting and I... was a normal... though a hard earned... response... from I ...about it and ...its destruction.  A combination of ‘expect this’, ‘used to this’, “seen this before’, ‘not my painting’ and ‘I didn’t do it’... parleyed at the tip of my nearly-touching-the-canvas nose as I DID take in fully the physical points of its destruction.  My professional spirit feel and/or passion TOO went to their own ‘points of destruction’ and these were a more frayed and guttural mind rage underlining with vigor the same conclusion as my physical; ‘the painting has been destroyed’.  Harnessing that emotional packet is more difficult then checking off the physical destruction checklist.

            But I did that; harnessed that emotional packet.

            Of what was before my nose tip.

            I ‘straighten up” and ... ‘looked over’ “IT” again and

            “It’s over”.

            I said.

            THAT is NOT NEW TERRITORY for me AND is NOT a ‘start over’ AND is not a “can’t be” AND is not a ‘can be undone’ AND....

            After a ‘few hits like this’; professionally seeing a work of GOOD art destroyed... one is less surprised and flustered that ‘this is what happened’.  (?).  The mind fog of the denotation of the physical and spiritual check lists ARE completed and DO stand but ... a falling away accompanies them allowing a brisk ‘walk from it’ option choice to ‘set in’... like an ethereal fog complete with ‘pain killer’.  I will come back to the technical listing of the physical destruction points but I hang-fire on this recording as I should for I ...then... remained ‘ethereal ... with pain killer’ AND had ‘something to deal with’

            That was the ‘to my rear’ sound of shoes coming across the... too polished – too sanded ‘old Old Port’ (Portland, Maine) hardwood gallery floor... toward me.  The sound was of dress shoes pacing... not ‘soft’ shoes walking... and ‘not a woman’s shoes’.  This sound feathered through my ethereal fog to alert me to the ...unpleasant... NEED for I to LEAVE a perfectly acceptable state and tend to ‘this’.

            I turned to the right with my head carrying over my shoulder to ‘look back’ and SEE... a man... who I knew to be Mr. Gallery Owner ‘himself’ (in more ways than one) ‘coming on strong’.  I know him and he-me so WE were bridged and HE boarding I before half a distance on ANY point began including the option of I bolting out the front door “NOW” (the ole ‘ha,ha –GONE’ maneuver).  “STAND” is what I did.  He was at my side... looking at ...in a near peer... the painting and then chucking me a ‘your looking at that?” messaged glance from his left.  Before the destroyed John Henry Twachtman WE stood.  Together.

            “A nice little painting.” I said.

            “I... yes.” He said.

            “A little CLEANED I’d say.” I continued.

            “Well I...”

             “Not YOU I see for it’s TOO STICKY (meaning that the finished cleaned surface ‘looks sticky’ like... it’s fly paper.

            “Right.  No, no.  NOT the way I’d have done it.”

            “You found it this way?”

            “Well... came IN this way but... well... WHEN I was first shown the photograph it hadn’t been.

            “Cleaned?”

            “Cleaned...  touched:  It was untouched from what I could see.”

            “Oh.  Too bad.  NOT you though.”

            “No.  We told them it SHOULD be cleaned and we would do THAT.  I mean:  You know; we have to (‘clean it’).  So they.  Well.  Wouldn’t pay I guess; to have it done right.  You know; ‘too much’.  They had someone else.  That’s what came in.” he said gesturing with his left elbow from his folded-arms-on-chest position.

            “Slicked it right up then, huh.”

            “Shined it.”

            “Shined and THEN slicked.” I said.  “You know where it is?” (what the painted scene is of)

            “Is?  Well.  The consigners are from the Albany, New York area.”

            “Oh.  Albany.  Huh.”

            “Otherwise.  Well.  Probably... somehow.”

            “And brought it to Maine?  To you?”

            “No.  A referral.  One of my pickers.  He would have liked to get it for himself.”

            “Oh.  So...:  Well... COULD have been nice.”

            “Yep... I was hoping for better.”

            At this moment I stepped to my left... in closer to the front door... and PRETEND to scrutinize the small oil on canvas painting in frame of an...abstracted Maine coastal landscape... hanging next to the Twachtman.  My nose again nearly touches the canvas.

            “That’s nice.  Vivian found that.” he said.  Vivian is a local fine arts sleuth who ‘runs’ ‘yard sales’.  Mr. Gallery Owner knows I know her.  The painting is clean, crisp and in its original frame.  It has not been ‘professionally cleaned’.  It is colorful and jumping at the eye; a pleasing towel snap of Maine coastal painting that has as it’s only set backs its small size and the sadness of having been painted by an... obscure Maine coastal painter no one except the local art crowd has ever heard of.  It is not a ‘signed’ ‘Twachtman’.  I step back, at nose tip distance, to the Twachtman.  I feel Mr. Gallery Owner’s eye fixed on the back of my head.

            “You framed it?”

            “Yes.  They found it in a old frame; it was framed in the photograph.  But they wanted a fancier one.  Couldn’t find one so when it came in we framed it.  We had that frame.”

            “Nice job.”

            “They liked it.  ... I wish I’d seen the painting earlier; before they had it cleaned.”

            “Well... it looks like you figure it will do well (meaning the painting’s sale estimate is substantial).”

            “Yeah... ah... like I said; I was hoping for better.”

            “You mean it’s sluggish”.

            “To say the least.  You’re the first one I’ve seen look at it.”

            “Well... you got it way off here behind the door.”

            “Yeah.  I guess I lost my momentum when I finally saw it.  At first... from the photograph... I was excited.  But... well... there’s no reserve so maybe you should put a bid in.  Hey:  You could actually COME to the sale.”

            I glance at him and step next to him facing out to the whole gallery. “No chance on that.”

            “I didn’t think so.”

            With a few more polite ...and never turning around to face the painting again... verbal in-fine-arts-gallery-antiquarian-dealer... mix and match LIGHTEST chit and chat I ... excuse myself and ... ‘ha-ha GONE’ OUT of the gallery and

            I never saw the painting again.

            It ‘sold’ for “$7,400. hammer”.  I heard... right away.  WHO bought it and IF it actually ‘sold’ or was ‘in-house bought-in (protected)... beats me.  IF it was ‘returned to the consigners... beats me.  IF the consigners were ‘pleased’ with ‘the sale’... beats me but I WILL BET that at ‘$7400. less commission (10-15%) that it is “NO – NOT PLEASED”.  I mean... the ESTIMATE was 25K.  The ‘feel’ I had at the Albany estate was that the heir ‘thought it was worth’ 25K.  And... who knows what the lawyer told them... not that ‘anyone listened’... to anyone anyway.  So... after paying for the cleaning and the re-framing... and the collateral expenses of, like, driving the painting around in the back seat a car...for hours (days?)... etc., SUBTRACTED from the ‘hammer price’... a ‘not good’.  I ‘beats me’ bet.

John Henry - Part Eleven

John Henry

Part Eleven

            Or ‘was worth’.

            After... that charming cell phone touch and feel chat... and those have become more and more a part of my ‘work day’... I... DID receive a photograph tagged on a “tell me what you think” email that... I deleted... after looking at the photograph... and deciding that it was taken by a family member-heir with a camera ....they had in their purse and... ‘what do you expect’ from that and... it was an ‘unusable’ image for ‘doing an appraisal’ of the painting.  Too.

            Resting in peace came next and that went on for about two months.  Then the three day tag sale took place at the Maine mansion.  I didn’t go... at all.  The estate was for sale... including a roadside sign... by the end of the following week.  “It’s priced to sell” my wife told me but I retained a “who cares” high on my mountain side attitude and... only admit that my head turned to view the head of the driveway (for one cannot ‘see it from the road’) when I was ‘happened to be’ driving by.

            I heard nothing about the “CAMP”.  I assumed that the contents distribution was a ‘took place’ ‘too’.  In some form or another.  There was too much shore front property value waiting to be ‘cleared’ (in more ways than one) ‘for development’ to possibly slow that imperative so ... ‘so much for that’... old farm’s... ‘stuff’.

            I figured.

            Then, suddenly, there was a sneak attack.  Seated in my office chair at the end of an afternoon recklessly rummaging my mail-filled-with-auctioneer’s-forthcoming-auction... folded color broadsheet... ‘flyers’ I:

            Was startled to encounter “a” painting the became a “THAT’S THE” painting fractional seconds later causing me to ‘sit up’ and ‘both feet on the floor’ and, well... how about  “OMG”.  Too.

            “OMG” is NOT what I said but it’s common usage conveys the ‘holy ...” that I moderately uttered to myself and then... got down to scrutinizing this postage stamp flyer ‘pictured’ ‘listing’ and then... quickly jumped to the textual listings to ...discover... the tiny words “Twachtman” proceed by “J. H.”... and no more.

            This last caused me to return to the tiny picture and again... ‘scrutinizing’ ‘it’ I had a pit-in-my-stomach gut reaction that ‘it’ (the pictured painting) “doesn’t look right” although “IT IS (definitely) THE PAINTING”.  Again; this pictured image is about one and one-half inches square... on glossy paper stock... so...:  “NO”... stick with the GUT response... “there is something wrong with the painting”.  What?  “It’s TOO BRIGHT”

            “NO.” I say to myself... then fall down inside to

            Acknowledge that

            “IT’S BEEN CLEANED”.

            By this time I’d stood up and sat down and... moved on to the next phase of traditional and classic “OMG” of a ‘something good pictured in an auction flyer’ professional antiquarian response (as being shown here... to be both physical and mental) of “WHEN IN IS THE PREVIEW.  This means ‘WHEN CAN I SEE THE PAINTING’.  I read the terms of that ...auctioneer bullshit pile to ...to no surprise... discover that there was offered a ‘gala’ ‘evening’ ‘wine and cheese’ (emphasizing wine) “COLLECTOR’S PREVIEW” first and on THIS Friday evening.  There after ‘viewing’ was available  “at our gallery” “during regular business hours” “Starting” the following Monday morning and “taking place at” THERE until the auction... the following Friday evening ...sans wine... and cheese.

            OF COURSE I’M GOING TO ‘IT’... but not the smell-and-be-smelled ‘gala’.  Nope; I stay away from ANY of that always and ALL of those who do attend ALWAYS TOO... unless... they’re ‘writing (ME) a check’ (I’m selling one of them a painting USUALLY ‘privately’.  No real problem there except that SHOULD I show up the floor buzz would be ‘what’s he doing here’... ‘he’s got something in the sale’... he just sold somebody something here’... ‘what was it’... ‘I missed something’... “I’m gonna go ASK HIM”... and... VERY down hill from there.  So I don’t show for wine and cheese EVER.  And remind... ‘it’s about the stuff’.

            Yeah so now I ...have to wait a WEEK before I can ‘slip in’ to the gallery and ‘see’ ‘the painting’.  A WEEK including ducking a wine and cheese fine arts festival that includes the painting shown BARE before ALL.  A WEEK of not mentioning to anyone anything in anyway AT ALL about ‘this’ ...for no particular reason other than that is my default standard professional action taken.  I’m not going to ‘buy’ the painting.  I JUST WANT TO ‘SEE IT’.

            Going dah-dee-dah-dee-dah about my business... including going to bed just about the time the gala preview ‘got under way’ with the first corks ‘pulled’... I DID for nearly a week and then...

            Arrived

            At the gallery

            Pleasingly at

            Nearly half-past ten AM to be sure of the ‘open at ten’ hours and...

            Find a fresh faced morning girl at the “May I help you?” reception desk (WHO HAS NO IDEA WHO I AM THANK YOU).

            “Just looking around thank you.” and I veer off into the large open space with high ceilings and track lighting gallery ‘preview’ room that ...moves inward toward a ‘stage’ with the ‘hammer drop’ auctioneer’s podium to one side, the ‘phone bid’ table and chairs on the other side and ...upon the walls of this narrowed, focused and intentionally directing one’s attention ...commercial space ... are the ‘better’ to ‘best’ ‘paintings’ ‘offered’.

            A quick scan of ‘those’ shows “no Twachtman” (‘the painting’).  I circle view the whole rectangular gallery from my position.  “Don’t see...”

            “Wait”

            “Ah.”

            “WAY DOWN THERE?”

            “OK.”

            Off I go to the far front corner of the room... to the as-one-enters left of the front door and on the front wall... to ‘it’ (‘the painting’).

            There are windows on this front wall.  The sunlight shining through those overpowers the track lighting on ... ‘the painting’.  As I come ever closer the ‘gut’ ‘something wrong’ roars from the painting... through the discombobulating effect of the sunlight:  “It’s too blue”... “it’s bright and shiny”... “it’s surface is too blue and looks sticky” roars in my mind.  “The frame is gone; a new frame... it has a new frame” and then my nose tip is nearly touching the painting surface and I am falling, falling, falling as I gulp only mouthfuls of heavy water filled air to DROWN in the visible maelstrom that the:

            Painting has been destroyed.

John Henry - Part Ten

John Henry

Part Ten

            “Worth?  I didn’t have to do that.” I said.

            “Yeah but... I mean:  Like, you KNOW.”

            “Ah... no... I didn’t do that.  I just found it.”

            “Didn’t do that?”

            “Check it out.”

            “Yeah... but... COME ON; you KNOW.  I know you.”

“I told ’em about it.  I told the one woman that it was good and she’d have to get it appraised.  I think that means you.  Right?”

            “Well... not right yet.  They sent me some photographs.  I mean; I can see it’s good.  But...  Hey:  You know one of them had taken the painting after you saw it.  Did you know that?”

            “No.  Huh.  I’m all done with that.  With them.  I haven’t heard anything about any of this in a while.”

            “Oh.  Well.  When you told them about the painting none of them knew about it; that it was in there.  So... well... I guess ONE of ‘em knew and had, well, let’s say... taken the painting home.   So when the executor found out about it she couldn’t find the painting.  Then the other ones (heirs) got in on it so NOW they all think they found a great one.  I told ‘em to slow down.  I’ll find out I said.”

            “So you haven’t seen the painting?”

            “No, no... they have it.  They’re gonna bring it back up here I guess.  THAT’S where it came from you know; up here.  So... I have photographs.  I showed them to ***** (well known Portland, Me fine arts gallery/auction firm) and ***** (well known Portland area coastal auctioneer/appraiser.  The painting’s DARK so... I can’t SEE it.  Anyway... it’s coming up here.”

            I noted to myself that both of the mentioned ‘showed them’ were ...buddies... of the appraiser and that the two largest Maine painting appraiser/auctioneers were NOT mentioned.  “Well... that’ll be good I guess.” I said endeavoring to slid away from this conversation.

            “Yeah.  Well.  I told ‘em to get that kind of money they (the estate) will have to do some work.”

            “Work?”

            “You know; CLEANING... a new frame.”

            “Oh.  You told ‘em that?”

            “Well... so far.  I gotta SEE IT I told ‘em.  I think they’ve already shown it to someone.  That one woman knows some dealer or something.  In Massachusetts.  I think.  Could have called ***** (prominent outside of Boston auction company) even.  Or sent them photographs.  You know.”

            I do know... and very well know... that this being the SECOND time in the recent minutes of our chat that the appraiser has mentioned ‘photographs’ of the painting being shown around... I know... that this action spells D-I-S-A-S-T-E-R for... regardless of the status, ownership, information and understanding of and about the painting... the painting is... ‘being shown around’.... ‘in the market’.  (Rule to remember:  NEVER take ...or let anyone take... a photograph of ANY painting one ‘finds’ and plans to ‘sell’ until IT; the painting – ‘it’s about the stuff’ - IS FULLY READY to ‘go to market’.  And then ... maybe don’t take any THEN EITHER; for example... a sale by private treaty assuring ‘unexposed’ state of the painting).  (The best part of that for me?  No one has to believe me because... “don’t worry” “they’ll find out”).  “So... WHO has the painting now?” I said.

            “The estate owns it.  I’ve got to appraise it.  But:  That one woman still has it I think.  And... I think she’s sort of in charge of what’s happening to it.”

            “Oh.  OK.”

            “Yeah, well... I THINK she may just make ‘em SELL IT.  You know.  Like the tractor.  So:  I can’t tell what’s going on.  But.  I’m pretty sure she’s showed it to someone and they told her.”

            “Told her?”

            “What to do or something.  I don’t know.  I’ve never seen her but.  Well.  I got the vibes that she has her own plans.”.

            “Oh I see.  Yeah.  I met her but just nothing.  So... seems to me the executor would be the one making the decisions in the end.”

            “Yeah but she’s listening to this woman.  That’s all she’s got.  I mean.  I haven’t even SEEN the painting.”

            And:  I was mentally configuring the lined-up-monkey-whispering-row of ears: I told the lawyer who... understood what I said... sort of... and had his ‘her’ right it down... sort of... so... sort of... what ever that came to was ...sort of... told to the executor ...sort of (?) and she ...’took it from there’... sort of ...and ‘FOUND” the painting ...sort of ...with the other heirs (the two men with folded arms and their seated wives?) ...sort of... ‘coming alive to this (the painting) too... sort of (?).  A lot of ‘sort of’ to ...sort of... sort.  I concluded.  “Nice of you to try and help.  I guess.” I said.

            “What’s that suppose to mean?”

            “Good luck.”

            “What?”

            “Your not gonna see that painting.”

            “How do you know that?”

            “They don’t think your good enough for that painting.”

            “I don’t like you saying that.”

            “Well they don’t think I’m good enough for it either so that means I CAN say that to you.”

            “No: I’m gonna see it.  They’ll bring it up here.”

            “Want-ta make a bet?

            “It’s coming.  I just talked with ‘em.”

            “Like I said; good luck”.

            “Come on; get off.  Just because your out.”

            “Am I out?”

            “Well.  So... HOW MUCH do you think it’s worth THEN?”

            “I don’t have to say anything about that.”

            “Yes you do.  Tell me.”

            “Nope.  The only time I’ll do anything is if that painting’s in front of me in the hand of the actual owner and has a price on it.  Otherwise; forget it.”

            “So tell me.”

            “You have the painting and it’s for sale?”

            “Not yet.”

            “Call me when you get it.

            “Get it?”

            “AND its for sale.”

            “Ok”

            “Not gonna happen.”

            “Will too.”

            “Send me a photograph.”
            “You don’t have one?”

            “NO.  I know better than that.”

            “You didn’t take any?”

            “NO.  That’s not what I was hired to do:  I don’t tell anyone anything until someone pays me.  Then I only tell ‘em what they paid me to tell ‘em.”

            “How do you get off doing THAT.”

            “Because... I know how much the painting’s worth.”

Table of Contents

The Chimney Cupboard

(thechimneycupboard)

Table of Contents

(Periodically revised and improved)

            This blog is about northern New England antiques and rare books.  It is stories, vignettes and profiles of objects and stories of buying and selling these things.  Most of the featured items, the setting and the stories are about traditional and classic New England antiques and rare books from before the Civil War.

Long Stories (Thirty or more posts)

            “Can” B. Worth (thirty-three posts in three parts)

            --- “Can” B. Worth (twelve posts)

            --- “Can” B. Worth Epilogue (twelve posts)

            --- “Can B. Worth” Feeding the Birds (eleven posts)

            Summer Place (forty-eight posts)

            The Crow’s Nest (forty-four posts in four parts)

            --- The Crow’s Nest (ten posts)

            --- The Crow’s Nest Part Two (nine posts)

            --- The Crow’s Nest Part Three (thirteen posts)

            --- The Crow’s Nest Epilogue Blood Farm (twelve posts)

Midsized Stories (Five to thirty posts)

            A Door Knock (nine posts)

            John Henry (in progress)

            The Oldest House (five posts)

Shortest Stories (Two to five posts)

            Gardiner’s Garden Basket (four posts)

            Peach Pie (four posts)

One Post Stories

            Fox Gets Goose

            Getting In... Writing It Down

            Ice House Ephemera

            “Nope”

            Snowbound (“Privacy of Storm” – Emerson)

Damnation Delights in Details (collection title)

(Short stories about my youngest days as an antiques dealer)

            A Family of Scoundrels (two posts)

            Bee Balm (one post)

            Downtown (five posts)

            Maggie’s Store (eight posts)

            The Codman Place (seven posts)

            The Dead Doll (one post)

            The Horse’s Grave (five posts)

            They Vacuum the Alamo (one post)

Poetry – Dead Mother’s Place (collection title)

            Bunch of Letters in a Desk

            Dead Mother’s Place

            His Two Wells

            Photographic History of Junk Dealing

            They Were In the Attic

            They Were Leaning Against the Wall

            To Time His Last Hours

Information About This Blog

            Getting In.... and Writing It Down

            Table of Contents

            Why Does This Blog Look Like It Does?

(BELOW – incomplete... and being worked on... at this time)

A Rare Maine Book

Tale of the Kennebec

The Lobster Catchers

The Loggers or Six Months in the Forests of Maine

Early Posts

Antiques, Art and Rare Books

            The Saco River Valley (Maine)

Characters

            Baxter

            Ferris Cronkite

            Goody Coffin

            James Hutton

Personal History

            A New England Pictorial Flask

            Mice?  I HATE MICE!

            The Old Antiques Store

John Henry - Part Nine

John Henry

Part Nine

            The ‘zero happened’ of activity and the silence attached to it ended with an ‘out of the blue’ cell phone call from ‘the appraiser’ hired by the estate.  I know him.  He knows me.  We are not buddies.  We are not even ‘professional associates’.  I know this.  He knows this.  His call was indirect and scattered in content and direction.  I was patient with his verbal troop movements.  It became clear that he planned to ‘flank and surround’ me with estate property content ‘happening now’ chatter and then... lance me in the heart about the painting.  I listened to his talk of his toy lead soldier troop movements.

            He ‘had arranged’ the sale (then ‘coming soon’) of the contents of the Maine mansion.  The heirs, through the executor, “are going to have a tag sale and are very pleased”.  It was to be managed (for a single fixed price cost) by a professional ‘team’ who ‘run sales’.  I, making no comment, did note to myself that this ‘team’ and the appraiser were very good friends.  I also reminded myself that I had reported that the contents could ‘go’ as a ‘three day auction’.  To my subtle “No auction?” query the appraiser blanket smothered that option by saying ‘how much the family (heirs) want to buy (“keep”) for themselves.  This “depletes” the contents making an “auction too much”.

To phrase this in its actual meaning:  ‘The heirs want certain things (that they probably assumed they ‘could have’ ‘for free’ but have by now found out –been told by the lawyers through the executor- they actually have to buy-at a fixed ‘value’- and ‘pay that value’ to the estate and/or deducted it from their share ...of the estate-... and:  There is a real lot more stuff in the estate so instead of putting it all out in a rag-tag before the public hammer dropping ‘SOLD’ public price ...war... we will quietly have a quiet ‘estate sale’ “over a long weekend” (Friday, Saturday, Sunday) wherein what the heirs want may be purchased by them “privately” (at steep ‘tagged’ prices) and “the rest”... “sold”... by the sale managers... ‘over the weekend (that actually includes them “letting in ‘good’ (personal contacts) buyers ...as much as a week before AND that “as much as possible will be sold with the rest ‘donated’ (?) so that ...everything... will be gone and the estate empty by ...Sunday afternoon... so the real estate dealer may come on Monday... morning”.  Also, reminds the appraiser, “I have nothing to do with this sale”.  Come Monday morning, after using this estate content sale approach... all of the good stuff (‘it’s about the stuff’) is ...stored in a private warehouse owned by the private parties who ‘purchased’ ‘it’ ‘at the tag sale’.  Of course there is a residual mound of debris - ‘stuff’ - and that was ‘cleaned out too’.  In full... including the payout of the proceeds from the whole ‘tag sale’... sans the ...substantial... ‘single fixed price cost’ to the sale managers... are paid to the estate and that amount... although not that much...  ‘is satisfactory’ for ‘everyone knew the stuff was not that good anyway’; “just old used stuff that no one wants”.  Yes... quite a bit “had to” ‘go to the dump’.  “Too”.

            Since I could understand this and the appraiser knows it, he, after noting my silent response that included me not expressing interest in any of this including ‘going to’ the sale... moved right along in his chatter.

            He went to the “CAMP”.

            “Yes it IS VERY FAR ‘up there’ isn’t it”.  “TOO BAD” about that for ‘how is anyone going to get there?” (to any sort of contents sale...there).  And... ‘there really isn’t that much in there anyway that’s “worth it”.  THAT was a fine appraisal term of that property’s contents and the appraiser repeatedly used the phrase “not worth it” as a blanket to smother the glowing ember of the CAMP’s 19^th century Maine farm ‘wonderful’ contents.  I... just sat there and listened to him prove to me using a squad or two of his toy lead soldiers to ‘show me’ ... “how” he’d “worked it out”.

            The ‘worked it out’ was that the whole contents... (sans “the family’s” personal and very minor “interest” that was really only about the agreement they shared of ‘selling the tractor’ ...evidently to a very persistent local suitor... “HEY WHAT DO YOU think of that TRACTOR ANYWAY?” the appraiser asked me)...  would be “bid in” “up there”.  This is understood to mean that the estate will take cash-on-the-barrelhead bids for the ‘whole contents’ from regional and local parties and ...sell it to the highest bidder... and... and:

            I asked after the ‘who’ ‘was bidding’ in such a way that ‘could I bid?’ was very vaguely suggested to which... he turned the light off on that saying .... “the executor will take the bids”... “you’ve already been in there FOR THEM (the estate) so PROBABLY CANNOT bid.  I can’t bid either.  There’s enough local interest anyway but... ‘it’s not worth it’ because” ...and his toy lead soldiers on my flanks came into sight... if I bid... so as to ‘out bid’ the ‘local interest’ I would find... upon arrival at the CAMP to ‘clean out’ my estate contents purchase... that much of the ‘wonderful’ contents that I SAW when I was up there ...was ‘no longer there’ ...in the Sherman’s-March-to-the-Sea sense.  So, therefore, there is no need for me to ‘bid’ for a ‘it’s not worth it”.

            “OHHHH.... we’ll GET IT... CLEANED OUT...; lot of work.  Lot of JUNK.  BUT:  We’ll get it CLEAN OUT for you.  Don’t WORRY.” would be the buyer’s summery of their ‘purchase contract’.  I ...was ‘out’.  I understood this.  And I understood very well that if I ‘did something’ and did ‘get the contents’... very little of that contents would still be there when I ‘showed up’.  THAT message was a very important part of the appraiser’s ‘indirect and scattered in content and direction’ reason for calling me.

            I don’t like it but I know ‘how this stuff happens’.  I could... wait quietly and keep my eye roving over the ‘up country’ ‘weekly’ auctions until I detected that ‘it’ (the CAMP contents) was ‘starting to be sold’ and ‘go after’ anything I wanted that way but... it’s probably “not worth it”.

            I, after my vague allusion to I bidding on the contents, had remained quiet... to the end of the ‘fair warning’ so... the appraiser moved some of his toy soldier out of sight again and brought up another flanking line from a new direction; the Albany property.  “YOU... went there.   There’s NOTHING there.  Right?”

            “Not that I saw.” I said.

            “I’m just working from photographs.  I don’t see anything worth driving over there for.  That’s what I’m telling them.  I gave it a low number (appraised the whole contents low) and told ‘em to take care of it themselves; have a yard sale.  Of course that doesn’t include the painting.  WHAT do YOU think THAT’S WORTH?”