Live Auction Talk: Photographer Diane Arbus

NEW YORK – “I don't press the shutter," photographer Diane Arbus once said. "The image does. And it's like being gently clobbered."

Whether Arbus was shooting transvestites, twins, dwarfs, freaks, movie stars, giants, nudists or street people, she had an uncanny ability to connect with her subject and then allow herself to be clobbered by that image. The connection showed up powerfully in her work. Mastery.

The things in life most of us blink and turn away from like deformity, Arbus zeroed in on and forced us to look at closely. Unnerving, surprising, intelligent, we end up looking at people we think we weren’t meant to stare at. There’s intimacy that’s palpable in her work. Scary.

Arbus didn’t pretty anything up. She had the courage to record things just the way they were. Her work is a collision with reality.

“A photograph has to be of something and what’s it’s of is always more remarkable than the photograph. And more complicated,” she said.

Arbus nudged us to focus on what we’re missing in things, the magic as well as the horror. She loved to shoot with flash, even outdoors. It was a way in her mind to freeze an expression, open up shadows.

She was also afraid she would be remembered simply as the photographer of freaks. She said she was no more a voyeur than any other photographer. She was just more open, more truthful about her fascination with what society labeled “perverted” and “forbidden.”

Arbus was born on March 14, 1923 in New York City. She married Allan Arbus in 1941, an American actor who taught her photography. They worked together in fashion and advertising. In the late-1950s she started to shoot her own photos and liked to capture the people society often hid.

She wandered around New York City taking black-and-white photos of people who interested her. From the local park to the county morgue not much escaped her lens.

Arbus photographed short people. She photographed tall people. She photographed ballroom dancers, triplets, the blind and the mentally disabled.

"My favorite thing is to go where I've never been," she said. And she took us along with her.

She had an uncanny way of catching her subjects in positions where they revealed themselves completely. The rawness of her photos landed Arbus in the July 1960 issue of Esquire magazine. That break brought her more work and her career grew.

Her marriage ended in 1969 and she struggled with depression throughout her life. Arbus committed suicide in 1971. She was 48.

Nowadays, she is considered one of the most important photographers of the 20th century. Few photographers are as controversial.

On March 29 through April 12, Christie’s, New York, featured an online-only auction of 41 posthumous prints of the photographer’s images. Every print in the sale was in pristine condition and annotated number 12 from an edition of 75.

Here are some current values.

• ‘Anderson Hays Cooper,’ New York City, 1968: $9,375.
• ‘Tattooed Man at Carnival,’ Maryland, 1970: $23,750.
• ‘Woman with a Veil on Fifth Avenue,’ New York City, 1968: $25,000.
• ‘Woman at a Counter Smoking,’ New York City, 1962: $30,000.
• ‘A Young Brooklyn Family Going for a Sunday Outing,’ New York City, 1966: $39,400.
• ‘Costume Lady in Sunglasses,’ Central Park, New York City, 1964: $50,000.

Live Auction Talk: Andy Williams' weather vanes

Most folks remember Andy Williams as the velvety crooner from the 1960s and ’70s who eased the heartaches of Americans with his soothing vocals.

The Andy Williams TV variety show ran from 1962-1967. On his show the popular vocalist sang with performers like Bobby Darin, Pearl Bailey, Ella Fitzgerald, Bing Crosby, Sammy Davis Jr. and Judy Garland among many others. At one time Andy earned more gold albums than any solo performer except Frank Sinatra, Johnny Mathis and Elvis Presley. For my mom’s generation, the guy was pure magic.

Williams also had an eye for folk art, especially vintage weather vanes. As Pablo Picasso said when he saw a rooster-shaped vane at a Paris show of Americana, “Cocks have always been seen, but never so well as in American weather vanes.”

People think of weather vanes as purely decorative objects. But they were designed to be functional, made to show the direction of the wind and placed at the highest point on a rooftop.

As long as human beings have farmed the land and sailed the seas there have been weather vanes. Being able to predict the direction of the wind and potential weather changes was a key to survival.

Archaeologists uncovered bronze Viking weather vanes from the ninth century. They were often shaped like creatures from Norse fable. Weather vanes were also common on the masts of Viking ships and in Scandinavian churches.

When the early settlers came to America they adapted vane designs adding motifs like wooden arrows and copper Indians. Some of the most valued vanes in recent history were handmade by local smiths before 1850. They are hollow, three-dimensional figures of hammered sheet copper. They’re also rare.

Vanes were especially popular during the Victorian era. Some Victorian rooftops had weather vanes covering every inch of the roof. A number of factories like Cushing and White came into being during the era to meet the demand.

What collectors search for nowadays are the factory-made vanes fashioned in the late 19th and early 20th century by hammering copper into iron molds. The excess was trimmed off and parts were soldered together and sometimes covered in gold leaf.

Typically what people think of when they imagine weather vanes is the rooster design with letters showing the points of the compass. But not all weather vanes even had pointers. The modern ones often have arrows.

With all the reproductions around it’s sometimes difficult to tell the old from the new. The old copper vanes have a greenish patina caused by surface oxidation. They’ll appear pale-green to near-black. Reproductions are typically aged with acid and look almost turquoise. Or, you’ll see drip lines from paint on them.

On March 3, Skinner Auctioneers offered the Andy Williams Folk Art Collection at their Boston gallery. Featured in the sale was a selection of weather vanes. Williams’ selection of vanes not only demonstrated his eye for design and quality but also the lasting appeal of American folk art objects.

Here are some current values of weather vanes from the collection.

Horse and Sulky of molded copper and cast zinc, American, late 19th century, full-bodied, 47 3/4 inches long: $20,400.

Leaping Reindeer, pieced, cutout, sheet iron figure, American, late 19th century, 103 1/2 inches long: $20,400.

Cow, flattened full-body sheet copper with applied sheet copper ears, weathered red paint, attributed to Cushing and White, American, late-19th century, 39 1/2 inches long: $22,800.

Steer, molded flattened full-body sheet copper figure with applied sheet copper ears, American, late 19th century, 38 1/2 inches long: $25,200.

Pig, molded copper and cast zinc, full-bodied, American, late-19th century, 35 ½ inches long: $36,000.

Live Auction Talk: pocket billiards, not pool

The successful Irish manufacturing tycoon pitted his talents against John Seereiter, the local billiard buff. The Four Ball match, to 2,000 points carried with it a $15,000 purse. It was an unbelievable amount of money in those days. Just to sit and watch the match cost $5.

And the price didn’t seem to matter to fans. More than 400 packed the sold out-hall. Thousands more stood outside waiting for updates.

After four days Phelan topped his opponent 2,000-1,904. Local magazines, daily newspapers and the sporting world gave the event lots of attention.

Phelan had a flawless reputation. Every tournament he played in drew crowds. The pool champ wrote Billiards Without a Master (1850), the first American book on the subject. It covered everything from billiard science to rules and etiquette. He also set the trend for extravagant billiard rooms through his New York room located on Broadway.

His Phelan-Collender Billiard Table Co., started in 1840, dominated the billiard scene in America for years. He developed a number of unique table designs. Phelan is also credited with being the first manufacturer to put ivory “diamonds” on the rails.

Americans loved the game from the start.

“Within the writer’s memory, the number of (billiard) rooms in New York did not exceed seven or eight (originally), and perhaps not more than 16 tables in all, now there are 50 or 60 rooms,” Phelan reported in 1850. By the 1920s between 40,000 and 45,000 poolrooms sprouted up across America. Numbers didn’t drop during the Depression either.

Even George Washington was a billiard aficionado, who kept close count of the money he won at the tables. He wrote about his fondness for the game in his diaries. Because his Mount Vernon home wasn’t big enough for a billiard table he visited the homes of friends who did have tables.

Washington recorded his wins and losses. The most he lost in one day was one pound, ten shillings. His biggest take was about $1.75.

On June 4, 1748 Washington wrote, “To cash won at billiards: one shilling, three pence.” The “pigeon” (victim) he went on to say was the Hon. Thomas Turner, Clerk of the Virginia House of Burgesses.

The industry still winces today when it hears the game referred to as “pool.” They prefer the term pocket billiards. It’s less smoky bars and late nights and more family fun and world championship clashes.

On Feb. 7, PBA Galleries, San Francisco, featured a selection of vintage billiard books in its Angling—Sports & Pastimes Natural History sale. Included in the auction was the text mentioned above by Michael Phelan, Billiards Without a Master.

The book sold for $960. Here are some current values for other billiard lots sold in the auction.

Billiards

Michael Phelan and Claudius Berger, The Illustrated Handbook of Billiards, Dick & Fitzgerald, New York, 1862: $420.

Edward Russell Mardon, Billiards: Game 500 Up, Played at Brighton; on the 18th of January 1844, first edition, Brighton W. Leppard, 1844: $600.

A Philosophical Essay of the Game of Billiards … , author: An Amateur, printed by W. Meyler, Bath, England, 1806, a rare scientific treatise on the game of billiards: $1,560.

Francois Mounsier Mingaud, The Noble Game of Billiards; first English edition, John Thurston, London, 1830. Price realized: $1,800. Mingaud is credited with inventing the modern rounded leather cue tip.

Live Auction Talk: Simon Bolivar’s American dream

Bolivar marched his armies thousands of miles across mountains, rainforests, outbacks and swamps exceeding the accomplishments of the early conquistadors. His grand dream was a united South America much like the United States.

Bolivar was against slavery. Even though he admired America’s independence he wasn’t sure its political system could work in Latin America either.

As with most political heroes it’s difficult to separate the man from the myth.

Born in Caracas (now Venezuela) in 1783 to an aristocratic family, the imperious, inquisitive little boy questioned everybody and everything. An excellent swimmer and horseman, he learned early to look after himself in the wild and in life.

Bolivar’s schoolboy optimism came crashing down at age 12 when he witnessed the beheading and mutilation of Jose Chirino as a result of his revolt against Spanish rule.

The young man witnessed firsthand the cruelty of the Spanish empire, and the experience haunted him. He watched as the Spanish army brutalized his countrymen and shipped its wealth off to Europe.

As a teenager Bolivar became a cadet to the elite Whites of Aragua corps founded by his grandfather. The cocky, ill-mannered cadet stood out as a leader even then. Within a year he was promoted to second lieutenant.

As a young man he traveled to Europe. He attended Napoleon’s coronation as emperor in Paris on Dec. 2, 1804 and realized the possibility of one man’s potential influence on history.

“The crown Napoleon placed on his head I regarded as a miserable thing and a gothic fancy: What seemed great to me was the universal acclaim and interest that his person inspired,” Bolivar said.

Bolivar returned to Caracas from Europe in 1807 and joined the resistance movement, declaring Venezuela’s independence four years later. He traveled to Great Britain hoping the country would help. It remained neutral. Bolivar returned to Venezuela, taking command of a patriot army and recaptured Caracas in 1813 from the Spaniards.

He ultimately gave up politics in search of military answers. In July of 1813 Bolivar devised a “Decree of War until Death” claiming the title El Liberador. He witnessed the liberation of Venezuela, Colombia, Ecuador, Panama and the succeeding conquest of Peru. In 1825 the new country of Bolivia also came into being.

Bolivar made himself a dictator in 1828 and served as president until 1830. After repeated death threats and attempts on his life he was driven out of office and died on Dec. 17, 1830 while waiting to go into exile in Europe.

In the end Bolivar’s life was about South America’s revolution, independence and finally its state building. “Liberty,” he said, is “the only object worth the sacrifice of a man’s life.”

On Jan. 26, High Noon’s Western Americana Antique Show and Auction took place in Mesa, Ariz. Featured in the auction were several Simon Bolivar items.

A mixed media on board artwork of Simon Bolivar sitting on his presentation saddle atop his horse sold in the auction for $1,210. The artist, Dave Powell, was selected for the Cowboy Artists of America in 2004.

Bolivar’s remarkable silver-mounted, black leather saddle and bridle presented to him in 1825 sold in the auction for $51,425. The saddle bears not only Bolivar’s name in silver but also the date and town in which it was presented to him. Included in the lot was the trunk accompanying the saddle and bridle.