Below are a couple NY Times pieces on the Knoedler art forgeries. Being a merciless logician there are only two possible conclusions I can reach regarding the creation of obvious forgeries being immediately accepted as genuine and worth a fortune in the art world. Either the dealer and collectors are morons without the foggiest notion of what they’re selling and buying or the dealer was knowingly defrauding his clientele. In either case, the so-called connoisseurs who vetted this stuff are completely clueless. Articles like these in the Times evidence what a farce contemporary art amounts to.
Anyone familiar with Pollock’s work can spot the painting that adorns the first article as an clunky forgery, even in reproduction. Referring to the forger as “unusually talented” is laughable. Perhaps unusually talented if he was in the 6th grade
One can get a sampling of just how sophisticated Motherwell was as a painter by watching him work . The forger doesn’t even manage to imitate Motherwell’s pedestrian painting technique by deploying characteristic AE paint drips and splashes.
It’s hard to believe what a clown act the Fine Art world has become these days. Are there really people still taking it seriously?
Are the fine arts in such a state of decline that art experts can’t tell the difference between the real Motherwell on top and the obvious forgeries below it?
I see in another blog that a “Kuwaiti sheikha” is suing Manhattan dealer Julian Weissman for being duped. Priceless.
Next, the Jasper Johns fraud, as reported by the indefatigable art sleuths at the NY Times… “Most important,” Mr. Meyer once said, was that “Jasper has taught me to think about what I’m making before I make it. ”
The mind boggles.
You have to love the caption underneath this clunky Pollock forgery: “How imitations of the most heralded Abstract Expressionists by a complete unknown could have fooled connoisseurs and clients remains a mystery.”
Yes, a very, very deep mystery. Call in Sherlock Holmes. There certainly must be some other explanation than that they’re a pack of knotheads without the foggiest notion of what they’re looking at.
Besides why spend all that dough on an original Jack Pollock when you can get a fantastic ultra-groovy and super-califragilistic – expee – alidocious cosmic-space Suarez for less than an oil sheik spends to gas up his fleet of Rolls Royces?
Woops. Another article on the Johns/Meyer mystery just in from the Times:
And it does appear that, indeed, Meyer was taught how to think by Jasper Johns:
“While 1960s suburban American [sic] remains my primary source of inspiration,” Mr. Meyer wrote on his Web site, “rethinking the linkage of image, shadow and subsequent images, sets off a conceptual clock of instantly recognizable pieces to a more complex puzzle. It’s my way of generating psychological power.”
From the mind of the Master to the mouth of the disciple.
I’m wondering if there’s an artist alive too mentally challenged or physically handicapped to be incapable of faking a Jasper Johns.