E book 24447_79727038 master pieces delivered

Master Pieces Delivered To Dr Jeffrey Lant CEO (http://Worldprofit, Inc) in Cambridge, YOU ARE

INVITED. 12/18/2012 - 11:30 est.

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Leopold II “before” and “after” with the inset of

Simon Gillespie.

Catherine Stephens, Countess of Essey

Preface / Introduction

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Table of Contents 1. When your experts disagree and why every connoisseur needs a conservator of integrity and verve... like I have. 2. 'You're lovely, absolutely lovely.' Connoisseurs, the objects of their desire, the gnawing obsession. 3. The angel in my house, the alluring Catherine Stephens, countess of Essex, painted by Sir Martin Archer Shee, PRA.

Master Pieces Delivered To Dr Jeffrey Lant CEO (http://Worldprofit, Inc) in Cambridge, YOU ARE INVITED. 12/18/2012 - 11:30 est.

http://www.LizsWorldprofit.com Copyright Elizabeth English - 2012 4 of 12

When your experts disagree and why every connoisseur needs a conservator of integrity and verve... like I have.

By Dr. Jeffrey Lant

Author's program notes. When I go to an art museum, gallery or auction house I am eagle-eyed and fastidious to a degree. A nick in the frame, the dust and grime of centuries, the general effect sad and forlorn, all these I see. I see, too, the myriad of other defects in these often bedraggled artifacts which are a severely neglected part of our artistic inheritance. I see them... I decry them... but if the picture in question be on offer... such defects constitute a cri de coeur I cannot resist.

For I am a good Samaritan, thrilled by finding something that was once splendid but has fallen upon hard times; an object once of brilliance and splendor, calling to me to restore it to its pristine allure.

I hear the cry, I see the need, but alone I cannot do the task. To achieve the desired result I need a collaborator... a person as fastidious as I am, as exacting, as motivated to return a once beautiful thing to its full, proud state. I need -- Simon Gillespie, sleuth, chemist, aesthete, magician. And, as this article will prove, I am lucky to have him, just as he is lucky to have me... both essential for the achievement of the goal.

For the incidental music to this article, I have selected, so perfect, Modest Mussorgsky's 1874 suite "Pictures at an Exhibition" (which you'll find in any search engine) because I know what going to exhibitions with Simon is like. We are both opinionated men, men of wit and wisdom, men unafraid to weigh in on the relative merits of any picture by any artist on earth... we are men, too, who enjoy, as what true connoisseur does not, life's good things... and we like to share them, too.

Dorotheum.

I am always on the hunt for another picture for my collection. One admirable place to find the Old Masters I desire is in Vienna at Dorotheum, where since 1707 connoisseurs have found pictures to their taste. I loved it at once and I somewhat regret sharing this information with you, as I know you will love it, too, and someday we may vie for the same object, to your dismay since I am unrelenting where the pursuit of beauty and ownership are concerned. Still, as I am a good Samaritan...

At Dorotheum I find the treasures particularly of Middle Europe, lands of nobility, culture, and of once proud dynasties now with impecunious relations who sell history with regret. I feel completely at home in these corridors...

The "Gnaw" test.

... The picture of Holy Roman Emperor Leopold II captured my eye at once. It was, even in its terrible condition, worth a second glance.... then a third. It portrays the future Emperor as Grand Duke of Tuscany, in 1765 , a lucky boy who had been gifted with the city of Florence and environs to reign over. It was a fate any civilized person could enjoy without cavil. His brother Joseph II was emperor of all, with all the world's problems. Fortunate Leopold had la dolce vita and the portrait, for all its imperfections, showed that.

Thus fortified, I slept on the matter, and it passed the "gnaw" test; viz., if the item in question is of sufficient interest that it gnaws at you ... then you must pursue the matter. That is the connoisseur's credo, and I adhere to it fiercely.

I emailed the efficient staff at Dorotheum, requested the condition report (it made for almost macabre reading what with all its damages and how they happened)... and then asked to speak with the staff expert on this picture. She was charming, knowledgeable -- and adamant.



"Do not buy this picture."

If you have never done business with any of the major auction houses, you may well be incredulous at an employee therein telling a customer looking for reasons to buy that such reasons were few, indeed non-existent, and that you'd be most sorry if you disregarded the advice not to purchase. But there is a method to this madness and that is the value of long-time satisfied customers. Such customers in the Old Masters category can easily buy objects totaling hundreds of thousands, even millions of dollars in a lifetime. Thus these auction houses, many founded like Dorotheum in the 18th century, take the long view -- and so their candor stems from more than basic honesty... it is good business.

Dorotheum's in-house expert on the painting had good reasons for what she said: the picture, not to put too fine a point on the matter, was an unholy mess, as you can see from the " before" photo above. What's more, the picture was so far gone that restoration, in her professional opinion, was impossible. The object was well and truly one step from the ignoble street vendor or flea market. And that, so she said, was that.

But there she was wrong... I had Simon Gillespie in my corner. And I was on the telephone to him a few minutes after I had heard what Dorotheum's expert had to say.

"How long have I done your pictures?"

Many years ago, I purchased from Sotheby's in London a magnificent portrait of Queen Victoria's handsome, irresponsible father-in-law, the Duke of Saxe-Coburg-Gotha. It should have been in Buckingham Palace but probably wasn't because Her Majesty didn't approve of his hurtful behavior towards his son, her adored Prince Albert. And so wafted by this royal displeasure, the picture commenced its history of peregrinations. Until I saw it, wanted it, but didn't at all like the idea of living with its imperfections. I had enough of my own.

I asked the expert assigned to this picture to recommend a restorer and conservator... and thus Simon Gillespie and I came to know each other and work together towards assembling pictures of note... and bringing them back to life. When I told Simon what Dorotheum's expert had said, he answered briefly and to the point: "How long have I done your pictures?" In short, his opinion, stated frankly and without equivocation was to acquire this off-putting picture and let him get on with the job at hand. Expert advice and all importantly expert results make me who advise so many take heed at his advice. And so, over the course not just of years,but of decades, Simon has brought recommendations to me; I have brought my potential finds to him for always candid advice. And one picture after another (now a thing of beauty yet again) has embarked for the New World to my domain...

... and each time they arrive, I am the proverbial kid in the candy shop, for, remember, until that moment I have not actually seen the object but in photographs... each acquisition instead acquired on the recommendation of one sage fellow who has never misadvised or misdirected me.

Stunning, smart, chic, how does he do it?

And so the latest item in my happy avocation is now in Cambridge... the picture I was explicitly told to avoid... but took bolder counsel from Simon. And, of course, to see the "before" and the "after" is to know at once why a good conservator would never do... it had to be the best. And so it is. In every work he and his attentive staff take on... you are sure to find a result of integrity, for Simon like me,is supremely dedicated to doing the right thing, the accurate thing, the thing that "restores", not invents.

Each picture he saves, and many have been celebrated masterpieces down on their luck, is the work



of a lifetime. For Simon is a conservator to his fingertips. That means he has helped back to health one work after another, learning in their subjects, their compositions, their brush strokes and flourishes their secrets... and so he keeps good faith with them and their creators... and the same good faith to customers like me who demand authenticity and in Simon Gillespie they always get it.

To contact Simon Gillespie Studio in London email [email protected] or go to simongillespie.com

mailto:[email protected]



'You're lovely, absolutely lovely.' Connoisseurs, the objects of their desire, the gnawing obsession.

by Dr. Jeffrey Lant

Author's program note. One of the loveliest songs ever written, short though it is, was composed by Stephen Sondheim for his 1962 musical "A funny thing happened on the way to the forum." It's called "Lovely", and he wrote both book and music.

The song only lasts for 2 minutes and 28 captivating seconds... but once you've heard it even a single time it will circulate throughout your brain for life. It's the kind of song that forces you to create situations where you can sing it, use it. For instance, I have recommended singing it to your Significant Other the very minute you come home this evening... always accompanying your admittedly croaky voice with flowers, candies, and ardent declarations delivered on one arthritic knee. That Significant Other will no doubt gibe, giggle, and give every indication of busting a gut laughing, but they'll be touched to the core. And Sondheim, a master in every way, wrote it for just that.

Go now to any search engine and let the music frolic around you. You cannot be anything other than happy, for you see you are the person Songheim celebrated in this tune...

... You that is and every object desired by every single connoisseur and collector on earth. And that, given the incessant collectors we are, is just about everyone.

"You're lovely".

I am what is called a connoisseur, that is a master of matters artistic and of taste... the kind of person who can say with credibility of any object on earth just what is, and even more important, what is not of value to civilization. It is back breaking work, what with millions of artifacts to find, subject to minute scrutiny, and, the object passing the most stringent of tests, arranging the contortions, financial and otherwise, which lead to acquisition and a lifetime of unadulterated love (with dollops of shrewdness and cleverness to sweeten the mix.)

This process, for me, begins with a catalog from any of the great auction houses on earth... with names like Sothebys! Christie's! The Dorotheum! Et al, great and small. These produce the siren songs that capture my attention and cause me endless nights of torment and insistent cogitation... these are the places, the very holiest of holies for connoisseurs, that wreck havoc in the minds and pocket books of even the most well heeled on earth. And of course these long-standing institutions with instantly recognizable names (at least to connoisseurs) are expert at catching their fish (that would be you and me, dear friend) and keeping them on their gilded hook c. 1250 A.D. once the property of the Queen of Bohemia. Look at yourself in the mirror and remember: you are about to go fishing in the most teeming waters on earth where your expertise will be tested against the very best... whose skills, wiles, courtesies and insights have been honed over centuries... all designed to capture you... the unceasing object of their potent desires.

Catalogs you pay for, versus catalogs hand endorsed and wafted to you.

When I began collecting so many years ago, the Internet was not dreamed of, much less a universal factor of life. And so collectors like me had to rely on the sales catalogs produced by the many divisions of the major houses. If you have never seen such a catalog you will not understand that these in no way resemble the short and flimsy cousins produced by, say, companies selling roasted meats. No indeed. These companies share a word... but nothing more. For the auction house catalogs are nothing short of the erudite and lavishly photographed "coffee table" books of yore, with only



one difference: in these catalogs every single thing is for sale, could be yours, and which you are allowed, indeed encouraged to want... fervently, wildly, devotedly. Yes anything, everything could be yours... for a price.

In the beginning of course, when these long-established houses (with the grandest dating from the 18th century) do not know you, you must pay for the privilege of getting a catalog. And, as if to warn you about what is to follow, even these catalogs are steeply priced, at $50 or more each.

But when you are that all-important entity -- a demonstrated connoisseur -- you may request any catalog for free... or, when you are more well-known, too, specialists will send you their latest, a card enclosed with their compliments. One such specialist so beguiled yesterday sent me the latest sales catalog from Sotheby's Amsterdam, for they have sales from noble and royal houses which beguile me, and regularly seduce me from the thrifty ways of my plain-living, luxury abhoring Puritan ancestors. They look down on me now with disdain and disapproval... But that is their problem, not mine.

"I'm lovely. All I am is lovely."

No one can aspire to being a connoisseur without the "eye"; that is the practiced ability to perceive, not just to see, an item. This is the work of a lifetime... for, you see, ages previous to ours did not have just or only masters; there were many lackluster crafts people... and, such is fate... they often survived where the superior productions of their more gifted brethren may not. Yes, Fate is fickle that way.

To develop your eye requires incessant labor... the willingness, indeed the desire, or better yet, the obsession... to examine, scrutinize, and, at all times, improve your ability to know what you are looking at, and why it either is or is not worthy of... you. This all starts when an item you see in a sales catalog, or on the Internet, looks at you (for the object most assuredly selects you, as much as being selected by you)... when, I say, that item looks at you and says without any modesty at all... "I'm lovely. All I am is lovely. Lovely is the one thing I can do..."

But is this claim true... or merely a ruse... to ensnare you? This is where you must have help... or you are on the way to a very expensive mistake, a mistake which is almost always avoidable if you do your homework; which entails finding, listening to, and following the advice of experts who have spent a lifetime perfecting skills and knowledge you don't have but which you desperately need right now. Such experts can be acquired, first, from the auction houses themselves and then by referral from the auction houses.

Direct, candid, honest to a fault.

One of the most gratifying and unexpected things you'll learn as you develop as a connoisseur is the honor and honesty of experts. Their candor is a by-word and rare in our world of mendacity and practiced deceits. In short they tell the truth. And no matter how thoroughly you mature as a connoisseur you will always rely on it... as I do. My chief support is London-based Simon Gillespie, conservator of paintings, friend, goad, willing ear, magnificent eye. Sometimes he brings possible acquisitions to me; sometimes I to him. In the case of the striking floral still life pictured above, by Jean-Baptiste Monnoyer (1636-1699) it was, first, my find; then after Simon's review, very much his as well. The song sung by this lovely painting by one of the greatest masters, had not been sung in vane. I had taken the bait... as how could I not... for I already knew the man and his work; one of his magnificent ouevres was mine already, hung here to enliven the gray winter days of Cambridge... and never anything other than winsome.

Thus the duet.

Each object, every artifact which could be collected must sing out about its merits, particularly when



those merits are not immediately apparent and only as a result of some master conservator's ministrations, the work of a Simon Gillespie, absolutely essential to the long-term value and preservation, for such necessary experts see below the damages, scarred surfaces and problems which accrue in these objects over time -- and these were immense and challenging in the new Monnoyer. In short, they see the "lovely" in items anything but. And the lucky ones (for they are lucky indeed) are snapped up (often at bargain prices), about to be returned to their original condition, a thing of beauty, a joy forever.

And it is the connoisseur who makes that decision (always after soliciting the best advice) and makes the necessary investment of time, money, patience, and belief. And who then is more than qualified to sing back to the object of his affection these words by Sondheim:

"You're lovely, Absolutely lovely. Who'd believe the loveliness of you?"

I would. I did. And now it is mine, "Radiant as in some dream come true."

### Your comments on this article are invited, post your comments below.



The angel in my house, the alluring Catherine Stephens, countess of Essex, painted by Sir Martin Archer Shee, PRA.

by Dr. Jeffrey Lant

Author's program note. Do you believe in fate? Do you believe that there are people on this planet we are meant to meet? That we will meet... no matter how unlikely that seems at this moment? When I contemplate the matter objectively as my training as a social scientist demands, I come to the obvious, the expected, the empirical conclusion that the idea of fate is superstitious hokus-pokus... then a chance encounter with Catherine Stephens occurs and challenges my logic, for surely this is kismet indeed.

Some background.

I am that most uncomfortable and difficult of beings, a connoisseur; that is a person who is engaged in the strenuous, never-ending search for rapture; a state which occurs whenever I see a thing and know that thing must be mine, cannot go anywhere but to me... for my well-being, the very completion of myself depends on my acquiring it.

Every connoisseur knows this unsettled state for each of us goes through it, especially (it seems) when money is in short supply, possibly due to having only recently been so touched and agitated... by something else.

But there's the rub. Whenever one enters this condition, it is as if for the very first time, so intense, so unsettling are the pangs. And this can happen anywhere at anytime. Be warned.

In the matter of Catherine Stephens they occurred as I perused the pages of the Dorotheum auction catalog for The Prince Kinski Sale, February 28, 2012. Lot 96. Given my interest in the nobility and royal families of Europe, it was inevitable I should consult this catalog... and perhaps find something; but by no means inevitable that thing would be a portrait of a lovely actress and singer elevated into the highest echelon of the English aristocracy. Yet just as Catherine Stephens captivated and in 1838 married the octogenarian fifth earl of the ninth creation of Essex, the Right Honorable George Capell-Coningsby (1757-1839) ... so she captivated me... and so (I warn you) she will captivate you, too.

Some facts about Miss Stephens.

Catherine Stephens (1794-1882) was the daughter of Edward Stephens, a carver and gilder in Park Street, Grosvenor Square, London. Theirs was a musical family... and her musical talent was encouraged. Thus, on 23 September 1813 she appeared at Covent Garden as Mandane in the opera "Artaxerxes" by Thomas Arne (1710-1778) . He was the celebrated composer who wrote "Rule, Britannia!" and even a version of "God Save The King", which became the British national anthem. She was in very good company indeed...

... and (I warned you) she enchanted them all. The aria that launched her career was "The soldier tir'd of war's alarms", and it was theater magic.

You'll want to hear it. And you can. Go to any search engine where you can hear Joan Sutherland's 1960 performance. Now imagine the lovely very young Catherine's candlelit debut and the dulcet tones which made each member of the restive audience believe -- no, not just believe but know -- she was singing just for them. That was always to be her secret...

That quality was instantly apparent in this circa 1838 portrait by Sir Martin Archer Shee (1769-1850). This was the most sympathetic face I had ever seen. And it was instantly clear that he,



too, for all that he was consummate master of his craft, knight of the realm and President of the Royal Academy (PRA) had felt the power of her serene radiance. Thus perforce did I stop to regard.

Most pictures of grand ladies, particularly titled ladies, say, "Look at me and be honored to do so. For I am worth the viewing." Such pictures may awe and dazzle... but they do not warm or beckon us. They are about the subject, not the viewer. But Shee's inviting portrait makes you feel certain about your reception, certain she wants to meet you and will be good to you. Above all that she will be good to you.... for that is what we all need. And if that quality is immediately apparent in the sitter it is not just because Shee is a master, supremely confident in his skill, but because it was there for all the world to see in the lady herself.

Hard times for the Kinskis. Hard times for the painting.

To understand the fate of this picture you must understand something of the noble families of Mitteleuropa, families which were the foundation of the Austro- Hungarian empire. When it fell in 1918 families like the Kinskis lost the fruits of their hundreds of years of advancement. Their lives ceased to be glamorous but rather one lawsuit after another, largely futile attempts to regain property -- and self-esteem. Throughout the declension of their lives and fortunes, the princes Kinski kept this picture. And it was in the old prince's drawing room when he died. It was, remember, always comforting.... even when its condition was dire... as it was when I saw it and asked Simon Gillespie to give me his opinion.

Miss Stephens charms Mr. Gillespie of Cleveland Street.

London England-based Simon is my chosen conservator, the man who has restored over 30 of my pictures and upon whose informed opinion I rely, picture after superbly restored picture. As much a master of his craft as Arne and Shee in theirs, he, like them, felt the enduring charm of Catherine Stephens and wanted to restore the picture as much for her sake as for mine.

Thus he and his talented staff set to their important work, removing the dirt of time and poor maintenance, old varnishes and over paint applied by less careful and discerning hands. When this was finished, the now pristine canvass yielded a considerable secret using radiology, namely that Shee had originally positioned the sitter quite differently, for a full frontal pose with both shoulders visible. But as Shee painted he came to see his subject better and divine the source of her undeniable allure. And so he started again, his flamboyant technique very apparent in the repositioned result that captivates ... and makes such an entrancing vision and desirable painting.

This is the image not just of one particular woman but of what the Victorians wanted from Woman in general, kindness, courtesy, sweetness of face and of manner, a willing ear, sympathetic at all times, generous of spirit -- in short the celestial ideal advanced by Coventry Patmore (1823-1896) in his important poem "The Angel in the House" written in stages from 1854-1862. It was an image that swept the world..

"Now she was there! Within her face/Humility and dignity/ Were met in a most sweet embrace/She seem'd expressly sent below/ To teach our erring minds to see/ The rhythmic change of life's swift flow/ As part of still eternity."

This is why this portrait of a lady and exalted countess is so important. You see, it makes clear what Woman may choose to be and of her profound significance in our often sore afflicted and troubled lives. I know, for when in my own life such troubles emerge, as troubles can do, I look up at this soothing, welcoming image now here before me in Cambridge and find comfort, peace and the kindness we all need.



Resource

About the Author Harvard-educated Dr. Jeffrey Lant is CEO of Worldprofit, Inc., providing a wide range of online services for small and-home based businesses. Dr. Lant is an avid art collector.

Republished with author's permission by Elizabeth English http://LizsWorldprofit.com.

http://lizsworldprofit.com/

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