The Stupid 365 Project, Day 50: More Near-Vermeer
November 19th, 2010
The response to the Van Meegeren post was interesting to me in part because so much of it focused on moral issues.
I thought I’d made my dislike for him clear, but I guess I got sidetracked in admiration for his sheer effrontery — painting Vermeer in plastic, selling wet “old masters,” turning the tables on the court and emerging a hero, at least temporarily. I’m a sucker for deeply fraudulent people who have the courage of their (assumed) convictions.
I also think I have an instinctive sympathy for forgers because they lift a middle finger to authority — all the dreary experts issuing pronouncements on this and that. This is especially true in the arts, where the expertise is all academic, most of it from people whose idea of creativity is skipping a footnote. (I know that’s not always fair, but it’s fair sometimes.) So it’s a form of cultural slapstick to have some pompous crusty-dusty like Abraham Bredius pronounce a truly dreadful painting, a literally plastic imitation of one of the greatest colorists who ever lived, not only a Vermeer but “the masterpiece” of Vermeer.
No question that Van Meegeren was a disagreeable man — an unfaithful husband (to his first wife), a wanna-be Nazi, an embittered egomaniac, a con man who thought nothing of profiting from his own country’s desire to preserve its cultural heritage. It’s also easy for me to dislike him because I’m a snob and he was a truly terrible painter — a paper-thin sentimentalist whose technical competence failed to disguise a complete lack of original vision. The pathetic little fawn at the top of this post is the most popular image published under his own name. It’s two steps above a Northern Toilet Tissue package.
And then, of course, he had the gall to attempt to forge the work of the art snob’s favorite old master and one of history’s most inimitable painters. Nothing is harder to imitate than simplicity. Vermeer’s domestic pictures, unlike those of more florid artists (Rembrandt comes to mind, but that’s nothing against Rembrandt, whom I worship) are distilled to the essentials: a room, a floor (almost always checkered tile), light falling from the left, stillness, a person or two (or more) who seem wrapped in the moment: reading, writing, pouring water, the clock stopped by the arrival of a love letter. There’s a sense that these moments happened thousands of times in Vermeer’s world, each one unique.
Lil asked me what made me read the Edward Dolnick book about Vermeer, The Forger’s Spell. I read it in part because forgers fascinate me, and also because forgery opens up some interesting questions about what we find beautiful. Van Meegeren’s paintings haven’t changed by so much as a brush stroke since they dried, but we see them completely differently today than they were seen by his contemporaries. Once the pictures had been confirmed as Vermeers, they were Vermeers. Only one or two worldwide experts (Bernard Berenson among them) dared to call them rubbish. To the vast majority of people who viewed them, many of whom had seen multiple Vermeers, they were beautiful in the way that Vermeers are beautiful.
Which they clearly are not.
Those people weren’t stupid. Some of them were cosmopolitan art lovers, perhaps even connoisseurs. What does that suggest about the things we find beautiful? Not just paintings, but literature and music — you name it. To what extent do we experience the beauty or power of a work of art directly and to what extent does a “brand name” such as Vermeer or Bach interfere with the work we experience, and shape our reactions to it? Or even a whole movement — would so many wretched painters have prospered if not for the power of the brand, “abstract expressionism?” Forgery, I think, can remind us that our critical faculties aren’t infallible. But it also raises another question: the people who went into raptures over Van Meegeren’s terrible Vermeers were experiencing a kind of beauty.
Weren’t they?
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11 Responses to “The Stupid 365 Project, Day 50: More Near-Vermeer” -
Laren Bright Says:
November 19th, 2010 at 9:54 pm
In case anyone watches TV, the series White Collar celebrates forgers for pretty much the same reason you mention — their fictional guy(s) do it right & we admire them for it.
Not that we would celebrate those who break our laws — or those who make them. Oh, wait. Same thing these days.
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Gary Says:
November 20th, 2010 at 4:10 am
Speaking of TV, is anyone old enough to have been watching it in 1956? There was a mystery series called “Colonel March of Scotland Yard,” starring Boris Karloff – pardon me, William Henry Pratt – based on the detective stories of John Dickson Carr.
One episode was called “The Second Mona Lisa,” involving a real painting and a forgery. In the final scene the real painting has been sold to a Texas millionaire for $750,000, and the discredited copy sold as a consolation prize to an Arab sheikh for $20,000.
“That would make a difference of $730,000,” says Boris Karloff. “Well, there they are, gentlemen. Look at them both. I wonder if you think it’s really worth the difference.”
“Sure it’s worth it,” insists the Texas millionaire. Then, peering at his prize: “Isn’t it?” he adds doubtfully. And the episode ends.
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Bonnie Says:
November 20th, 2010 at 9:51 am
Yeah, there’s kind of an Emperor’s New Clothes aspect of the whole value-of-art thing.
Not that literature has been spared: Think Thomas Chatterton. Who’s to say his creativity in producing the fake wasn’t equal to or even superior to the supposed original?
Can’t think of a serious musical equivalent, though surely it’s tempting to “find” a hitherto unknown Beethoven or Vivaldi?
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Suzanna Says:
November 20th, 2010 at 9:55 am
Your blog often has me searching for more information about the interesting topics you raise. Or the pathetic figures you occasionally introduce us to. So I read a little bit more online about Van Meegeren and what he says about what motivated him to become a forger.
I know the sources online aren’t always 100% accurate so feel free to correct any inaccuracies.
If an egomaniacal profiteer is to be believed he says that after his own work was panned by critics he wanted to prove them wrong by showing that his work was so good that you wouldn’t be able to tell the difference between a painting Vermeer created or a Vermeer that Van Meegeren reproduced.
After he was convicted of forgery it was his belief that once he was dead and gone the Vermeers that he painted would once again become “original” Vermeers. He said he created these forgeries not for money but for “art’s sake.”
Wow. Now that’s sick.
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Lil Gluckstern Says:
November 20th, 2010 at 10:53 am
So partly, we admire the bad guys’ chutzpah? And it doesn’t hurt to be humbled once in a while. I will say that I was raised in New York City, and the people I knew made a career deciding what was “good.” The latest in any of the arts was chewed on and then judged, and boy, you had better agree. Some of these people were my relatives, and I realize today how much baloney was spread around in those decisions. It was a revelation when I finally grew up and I realized that I could make my own judgments regarding quality. Which brings to mind another (sometimes pretentious, but interesting) book popular in the 70′s, “Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance.” There is a quote from Plato, which in essence says we decide what is quality and what isn’t. In music, all I could think of Salieri’s frustration because he simply could not produce the kind of music that Mozart did. But then no one ever else did. Interesting tea this morning.
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Timothy Hallinan Says:
November 20th, 2010 at 3:03 pm
And welcome back all, and thanks for sticking with me through another post on (sort of) the same topic.
I’m going to be bumping this early today to put up a sample chapter from CRASHED that will remain up all day tomorrow — the book officially went on sale today and I want to push it a little.
Those who break the laws are those who make the laws — thanks, Laren. Another reason to hoist high the flag of the Ixnaycrats, if they had anything as organized as a flag.
Gary, another William Henry Pratt fan. It’s good he changed his name; the credit MONSTER: WILLIAM HENRY PRATT lacks gravitas. Grest story, and exactly what I was trying to get at. He’ll never look at that picture with unalloyed joy again,
Suzanna, Van Meegeren was fraudulent all the way to his bone marrow. “I know: let’s create art for art’s sake and then sell it to the Nazis.” Also, I named the thread near-Vermeer in tribute to the person with the worst depth-perception in the world — whoever named near-beer. Only bad vision or megalomania could lead him to thing his paintings would ever become “real” again.
Hi, Bonnie – good question about the music — I’ve asked Stephen Cohn, who’s a classical composer about it, and I’ll put up his response once he gets back to us. There have been literary deceits aplenty, including “manuscripts” of missing Shakespeare play, scraps of Sappho, and a few years back someone drew J.D. Salinger out of his web by publishing something purporting to be a sequel to CATCHER IN THE RYE. Sort os misses the point that when Holden grows up, he’ll be just like the rest of us, only possibly more so.
Thanks, Lil and I loved the finger sandwiches. The first I’ve ever seen made with real fingers. I would have LOVED to have been in some of those conversations — I’ve tried to write them but I can’t find the tone without it sloping downhill into condescension. Chekhov said critics are a kind of mold — they grow on art like mold does on bread. I’m not that bad — I think good critics help to sift the morning’s junk from the morning’s trash, sort of giving posterity a head start. I envy you that experience.
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Stephen Cohn Says:
November 20th, 2010 at 3:07 pm
The question of forgeries in classical music has always been a hazy one although much discussed. Forged compositions are usually revealed by a musicologist years or centuries after the fact and are based on a stylistic analysis rather than hard evidence. However, there are some that have been confirmed. Marius Casadesus, born in the 1890′s admitted to forging a “Mozart” violin concerto, a “Handel” viola concerto and a “Bach” cello concerto. The pieces were accepted as being authentic and recorded by artists like Yehudi Menuhin – then later questioned by a musicologist and eventually Casadesus admitted the forgery shortly before he died. Bach had a “workshop” with apprentices – some of his works have been attributed to his workers although this is a foggy area. There are also many cases where a composer died before finishing a work and the work was then completed by another composer. Mozart died while working on his Requiem. His wife, Constanze, hired other composers to finish it – probably for very practical reasons like needing the money. These days, with digital sampling, plagiarism and forgery have become very easy. Many pop and rap recordings begin with sampling anything from a bass line to an entire rhythm track and building a new song around it.
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Timothy Hallinan Says:
November 20th, 2010 at 4:07 pm
VERY interesting, Stephen — am I correct in assuming that Casadesus didn’t make money off his forgeries but did them just because he thought he could? That seems to be the motive for many forgers, although others, such as Van Meegeren, do them for money. The whole “workshop” thing is a source of confusion in the field of old master paintings, too, where scholars argue over which pair of hands or which face the master actually painted. By the way, the completion of the Mozart Requiem is one of the plot devices in a very interesting thriller by Kevin Guilfoyle called THE THOUSAND.
Thanks for helping out — this has been very interesting.
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Jaden Says:
November 20th, 2010 at 8:15 pm
Oddly, I kind of like the horrible little fawn–but then, I also like the Northern bathroom tissue pictures, even though they are cheesy, sweet, and sentimental.
The real Vermeer portrait, of course, is in another class altogether. Utterly beautiful and almost translucent. I love the way he used light in his paintings.
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Timothy Hallinan Says:
November 20th, 2010 at 10:43 pm
Hi, Jaden — I think that painting, “The Girl With the Pearl Earring,” is one of the most beautiful human-made objects on earth. It’s all light and spirit.
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Stephen Cohn Says:
November 21st, 2010 at 11:54 am
Tim – Casadesus was the editor on the published editions of the faked masterpieces. So there was probably some financial motivation but to go to all the trouble it would take create whole concertos, it must have been like you said – because he thought he could do it. Perhaps also a deep envy of the genius of the real masters and a desire to partake in some small, twisted way.
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