A Sordid Tale of The Destruction of a Great Collection
- By Michael Stillman
Death of the Strong Wicked Man brought the highest price at $1,584,000.
By Michael Stillman
It was a miracle find. Drawings meant for an early 19th century book of poetry, created by a poet-artist-printer himself, lost for almost two centuries show up at an obscure bookshop in the English countryside. Thought at first to be mere prints, further research reveals that these are the original watercolors produced by the artist-poet William Blake. As the excitement mounts, they are offered to a museum, to be kept together for eternity. Then it all unravels. New players, for whom Blake is neither poet nor artist, but a financial opportunity, insert themselves in the deal. The price goes up, the collection is no longer viable as a unit, so it is broken into pieces to pay off the middlemen. Blake's drawings were auctioned off last month, one by one, the collection likely destroyed forever, nothing left but the pieces.
For those in the book trade, this is not one of our prouder moments. What started as a collection of amazing works lost in a family's attic for generations, appeared to be headed for a museum, to be protected for eternity. Along the way, some people in the book and art businesses inserted themselves in the process for easy money. Now, the collection is lost again, but this time forever. It is a sad and shameful day for the book and art trades, for it was our trades that destroyed this wonderful collection.
The story begins almost two centuries ago. William Blake, poet and artist, is commissioned to create illustrations to go with a new printing of The Grave, a poem first published in 1743 by Robert Blair. If you don't know this poem, you don't know Blair, as it was all he wrote. Blake produced twenty watercolor illustrations. Twelve were used in the edition published in 1808, though publisher Robert Cromek brought in Luigi Schiavonetti to create the engravings from Blake's illustrations, apparently an embarrassment to the latter. It also meant Blake made little money on the project. The vultures would make up for that centuries later.
After the work was published, the watercolors remained with Cromek. He died in 1812, and the illustrations passed on to his wife. They next appeared at an auction in Edinburgh in 1836, where they sold for just 1 pound 5 shillings. That's roughly $2 in American currency, or about ten cents each. The buyer is unknown. And then, they were lost. At some point, they came into the possession of the family of artist John Stennard. However, as they were passed down from generation to generation, their significance, like the drawings themselves, was forgotten. They would remain essentially unknown for the remainder of the 19th and all of the 20th century.
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A Sordid Tale of The Destruction of a Great Collection
- By Michael Stillman
Our Time Is Fix'd was completely unknown until the 2001 discovery. It sold for $318,400.
Finally, in 2001, nineteen of the illustrations made their way to Caledonia Books in Glasgow. They came there, along with many books and other items, from descendants of Stennard. By then, no one had any idea of their worth. Somewhere along the line, the twentieth drawing was separated from the others, and it ended up in Paul Mellon's collection, and is now at Yale. It may well have been separated before the 1836 auction. However, the remaining nineteen stayed together.
It was at Caledonia Books that two Yorkshire booksellers, Paul Williams and Jeffrey Bates, stumbled upon them. They thought they might be significant, but were not certain. They took them to Dominic Winter, the auction house, which brought in experts. It was then discovered that these were Blake's original drawings, not just prints. While twelve were known from the 1808 printing of The Grave, the other seven were new. The nineteen were offered to the Tate, a British museum and gallery, with a great interest in Blake, for roughly $7 million. The Tate was given five months to raise the funds. They were unable to meet the deadline.
Meanwhile, things started to get ugly. Caledonia became aware of the value of the works taken by the Yorkshire booksellers and sued them, claiming they had been taken on approval, not sold. The parties settled in 2002, with Caledonia getting half and the Yorkshire booksellers splitting the other half. After the various booksellers resolved their dispute in November, they apparently scheduled another meeting with the Tate. However, at that point London art dealer Libby Howie stepped in, evidently offering a higher price, and grabbed the illustrations before the Tate could make another offer. Howie reportedly had been called in for an opinion during the lawsuit and must have seen an opportunity to make some serious dough off of the Blake collection. She rounded up cash from some unnamed private investor/s, whose interest was neither Blake, preservation, art, heritage, or anything like that. It was money, plain and simple. They saw an opportunity to make big bucks by inserting themselves in the transaction, and if that meant the destruction of a great collection or national treasure, so what? Let's all hope they really enjoy the Bentleys or whatever they buy with their profits, because the world of art and culture will pay mightily for their fleeting pleasure.
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A Sordid Tale of The Destruction of a Great Collection
- By Michael Stillman
Heaven's Portals Wide Expand was purchased by San Francisco bookseller John Windle for a client.
What Howie and her cohorts paid for the collection is not known, though speculation puts it in the $7-$8 million range. Of course they wanted to be compensated for their role as unnecessary middlemen, and they were not looking for 5% or 10%. They estimated the value at something like $17 million, and began shopping the collection for this new and improved price. They were offered to major institutions including Yale, since they had the only other drawing from the original collection. However, the price was now too steep to sell them as a collection. The owners concluded that the only way to get their price was to sell the drawings off one at a time. Using the dubious justification that it wasn't really a complete collection anyway, since one out of twenty pieces was separated earlier, they took the collection to Sotheby's, to be sold piece by piece.
The attempt to sell the collection piecemeal in America was delayed when the owners were temporarily denied an export license. Much condemnation of the process was expressed by voices in the art and book worlds. The New York Times even chipped in with an editorial opposing the sale, noting that Blake's works were meant to be a coherent whole. It didn't matter. Money talks louder than reasoned words. If you thought art and literature has nothing in common with politics, think again.
On May 2, 2006, the collection, together for almost two centuries, was torn apart. The nineteen original watercolors by Blake, along with the portfolio labeled "Designs for Blair's Grave," were put up for sale at Sotheby's. One by one, they were sold, or at least eleven of them. Eight received insufficient bids and were not sold. The eleven, plus the portfolio, brought in a hair over $7.1 million. While the sale was something of a disappointment, with eight unsold and several others coming in below the low estimate, it is unknown whether the owners are feeling any regret over their decision. They did not collect anything like $17 million. However, they did get close to the price for which the collection was offered to the Tate, and they still have eight drawings left to dispose of in the future. They may not get as much for those eight as they once thought, but they should still get enough to turn a profit. Whether it will be enough to justify tying up millions of dollars is yet to be determined.
We asked John Windle, a San Francisco bookseller and one of America's foremost Blake experts, his thoughts on the sale. Windle purchased one of the drawings, Heavens Portals Wide Expand to Let Him In, for $329,600 (against an estimate of $350,000-$550,000) for a customer, while purchasing the leather portfolio which held the drawings for himself. He had been a strong opponent of the sale, and like many others, had unsuccessfully sought to find a way to stop it. He minced no words in describing the process: "Splitting up the collection was a disastrous decision from every possible viewpoint, a heinous crime against England's greatest visionary poet/painter/printer which dishonors his life's work and his memory." He described the process as "a sordid and grubby affair from start to finish that reflects badly on everyone involved." Mr. Windle was particularly upset to see the twelve drawings that were used in the Blair edition broken up, which he described as a "tragedy."
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A Sordid Tale of The Destruction of a Great Collection
- By Michael Stillman
The Day of Judgment had the highest estimate ($1.5-2.0 million) but did not sell.
John Windle also considered the decision to split up the collection a poor sales choice as well. "As of now they have at least eight unsold lots, known to the entire art world as having failed to sell," he pointed out. Leading experts in the field, he explained, think the drawings will remain unsaleable for the foreseeable future unless the sellers dramatically reduce the price, or new buyers come along. He saw each of these possibilities as being remote.
Mr. Windle was not certain where all of the drawings purchased were headed. Other than the one he purchased, he said he understood that two were purchased by a British collector, two by an American buyer, possibly an institution, and the rest were single sales, one each going to French and German institutions. None appeared to go to resellers. As for the unsold eight, Windle said he had been reliably informed that two after-sale offers on single lots had been rejected, but as of roughly a week ago, none had been accepted. He pointed out that the auction house usually has a right to make after-market sales for 30 to 90 days after an auction, but that he would not be surprised if Sotheby's quietly returns the drawings to the owners. Windle noted that Sotheby's has shared in the bad press generated by this sale and may have no desire to rekindle it.
Blake's drawings are eerie and somewhat dreamlike. They depict the borderline between two worlds, that of the living and that of the dead. Souls reach out for heaven, or look back to their graves. The poem for which they were drawn was written during a time when there was great fascination with the world of the dead, a topic that might be considered morbid today. This may explain why Blair's poem, once enormously popular, has largely been forgotten. Blake, on the other hand, mostly unknown or ignored during his own lifetime, now has a sizeable following of rabidly devoted admirers. While not everyone puts him on a high pedestal, those who love his work have no question that he belongs in the pantheon of greats as an artist, poet, or both. His reputation is finally secure. His is the one name associated with this sorry spectacle that will emerge from it untarnished.
"I'll hear no more; it makes one's blood run chill."
Robert Blair, The Grave.
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