Wednesday 1 October 2014

Added value

It was last night that I decided I would not being going to work today, so I decided to just spend the day eating some of the full-strength codeine that someone donated me yesterday. I like that stuff, but it's even nicer when you take it for some other reason than being in pain.

Codeine - and most other opiates - doesn't actually remove the pain, it just takes your mind off it in the same way as hitting your thumb with a hammer takes your mind off a headache, but in a much more gentle way.

With the acquisition of the Craigie Aitchison painting, I thought it best to try and arrange insurance for all of our artworks which haven't been made by H.I., just incase the place goes up in flames.

Our standard contents insurance goes to a maximum of £1500 per item, so separate cover is needed for the rest. 'The rest' includes two Auerbach drawings, two Marquet drawings and one Degas etching. The Auerbachs come with a personal letter from Frank himself, saying that they are better than the ones in a national collection. None of them were paid for, but all of them were legitimate gifts.

A few years ago, I disposed of a large collection of big-name prints - artist's proofs plus signed editions - to get a bit of money together for Daughter, who was broke at the time. She's still broke.

A few years before that, I learnt what a bunch of slippery bastards most dealers and auctioneers are, when one tried his best to make me part with the lot - about 30 - for about £300. I found out from a sympathetic gallery that he had taken them all up to London and touted them around every single place that he thought might buy them, and - smelling the rat which he patently was - did not want to have anything to do with the dodgy deal.

Because of this failed attempt at an an old-fashioned and pathetically hopeful rip-off, he soured the market for over 15 years, and I ended up selling them to private collectors for about half their worth, but it was still a heck of a lot more than £300.

The strange thing is that even in the late 1960s, a scruffy student like me could go into a Cork Street gallery and be treated with great respect and seriousness - even offered Champagne.

This is because - from bitter experience - the cunning galleries have discovered that they never know who they are dealing with, and being snotty with someone who looks like a tramp may mean the loss of thousands of pounds, on the slim chance that the tramp may be an agent for someone who could buy them out 10 times over without blinking.

The negative side of this is that some rude and offensive Russian ex-pat is treated with more respect than they actually deserve, but a lot less than they could afford if they had to buy it.

The world of Fine Art is so depressingly stinky.

41 comments:

  1. I think this same thing is true of other areas too Tom. Since watching various antique programmes (which usually occur as we are having our tea, so that they are easy to watch) I would never again go into a so-called Antique Shop and buy anything at the full price, even if I really wanted it. In yesterday's edition a china cup marked at £95 was eventually sold to the TV so-called expert for £15 and it still made a loss at auction.

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    1. Yes, they do try to 'maximise the potential' somewhat. All those antique roadshow programs are a joke. I have dealer friends who watch them just for a laugh.

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  2. I can't anything wrong with what you were describing. Buy cheap, sell high. That's what dealers do to make money, be it art, shares, grain, beef, that's how business works and some along the way get rich. You could try it with your tray.

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    1. I am realistic enough to understand that dealers are not charities, and I also understood that an auctioneer's job is to maximise the profit for his client and make a higher mark-up that way.

      Auctioneers are not supposed to be thieves - that's illegal, apart from anything else.

      Making 5000% by exploiting an elderly and confused woman - for instance - is not what I would call making an honest living.

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    2. I didn't see you mentioning any little old ladies. It is dog eat dog out there and if one wont do it another one will. How do you think I made enough money to retire at 50, running a benevolent fund? I never robbed little old ladies though, only blokes.

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    3. You retired at 50? You just volunteer to work for the police in your spare time?

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    4. If I'd started stockbroking earlier I'd have retired at 40.
      I temp for the Council for something to do.

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    5. I thought I'd made that clear enough.

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    6. With Arsenal 3-0 up, tetchy, no way.

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    7. Maybe tetchy was the wrong word. 'Pissed' might have been a better choice.

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    8. I was not pissed when I made that comment.

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  3. I am also on codeine, whatever it does I like. You will of course be flooded here with advice about not getting addicted.

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    1. Not when it is given to you under the counter, you won't. Anyway, I am used to fighting off addictions. I have got quite good at it, but I have never tasted crack, so don't want to test my limits.

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    2. If ever I was diagnosed with The Big C and given a cut-off date, then I would buy in a pound or two of the unadulterated thing and smoke myself into oblivion - but then and only then!

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    3. You will, or would have been, flooded with advice is what I was saying. I didn't say you would or wouldn't get addicted.

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    4. I had this conversation yesterday. Why quit smoking while dying of lung cancer, or drinking while dying of kidney failure.
      May favorite aunt disconnected the oxygen bottle and went to the next room for her smokes. I always admired her for not putting herself through the process of quitting.

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    5. She disconnected herself from the oxygen when smoking? Coward!

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  4. Getting insurance riders for all the "stuff" of life can be expensive. However....best insure it.

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    1. I am waiting for a quote right now. If it's too much, then I'll cancel the burglars.

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    2. Insurance is a rip off. Don't bother.

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    3. It's only a rip-off if they don't pay out.

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    4. Don't insure with Norwich Union then, they never pay out.

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    5. I wouldn't dream of insuring with an office-full of people who can count the miles home on one hand - 6.

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  5. Have you read the book, The $12 Million Stuffed Shark? It's quite a problem knowing what to do when the shark in the tank starts rotting and the impact that will have on the value. I'm referring the piece by Damien Hirst. Not for the faint-hearted, the rotting fish or the art market.

    Sorry to hear of your pain. Thank goodness for codeine.

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    1. One of the OXO mums is dying of cancer right now. I bet she is saying the same thing, whereas she used to say it about OXO. This time, she isn't being paid for it.

      I once slept with a BISTO mum, but that's neither here nor there.

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    2. Do you want any investment advice for your tray?

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    3. Ah, I see. It's been about 45 years since I have seen any gravy adverts, and about 15 years since I shagged an actress.

      If I played along and said 'yes' to investment advice about the tray, I just know you would tell me to stick it up my arse - sideways.

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    4. P.S. Do you, like me, detect a hint of jealousy in John's voice about the tray?

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    5. Only 15 years. Not bad.

      Re the tray: I expected to be told to fuck off.

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    6. Fuck the bloody tray. No. I don't like it either.

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    7. Get back to work. You cannot handle free time safely.

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  6. A few years back I sold a couple of Hockneys. I took them straight to Sotheby's.... no messing..... got the right price.

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    1. My experience of the really big auction houses is that the ill-educated Debs who answer the emails think that anything below 200K is beneath their dignity to even consider.

      I have a Christies account, and I have spend almost half a million with them, but the clerks still treat me with distain.

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