In the 1966 film How to Steal A Million, Nicole’s father makes his living selling replications of famous works of art. While I understand the criminality in the practice of claiming art to be created by another, more famous, artist, I never could quite grasp why a counterfeit piece of art was never as valued as its original. Nicole’s father is clearly talented, maybe even more so than the artists he copies because he has the skill to replicate, and to replicate so well he can deceive art experts. Why are these counterfeit artists not celebrated?
This question arose again the other day while looking at Trés Riches. Before the completion of the calendar, the two artists died. Thus, in order to finish the book, another artist was commissioned to create the months of November and December. Maybe it’s because I don’t have that well trained of an eye in regards to illuminations (yet), I would not have been able to tell the difference between November/December and the other ten months of the calendar. It was only when Professor Serrano commented that it was a “shame” to not have the entire calendar completed by the original artists.
Again, I ask why? Why are these two months not as respected as the others? Are they not as well crafted? Or is it simply because they are not the works of the Limbourg brothers?
With this question in mind, it was interesting reading the chapter “I Am a Gold Coin” from Orhan Pamuk’s My Name is Red. If a replicated painting were animated, I’m sure it would feel just as the gold coin feels – neglected and fearful of being discovered as a fake. The gold coin explains:
“A broker, not recognizing that I’m counterfeit, who has counted out 120 silver coins in exchange for me, will berate himself in fits of anger, sorrow and impatience as soon as he learns he’s been cheated, and these fits won’t subside until he rids himself of me by cheating another” – pg. 104
Despite the fact that the coin is a fake, it has successfully travelled and been exchanged as a valid coin for seven years. However, even though the coin has been used for the same function as a real coin, as soon as it is discovered as a fake, all its value is lost.
I guess my main question is – how do we decide what is valued and what is not, especially when the two objects (whether they be two paintings or two coins) are identical therefore created with the same labor and effort?
Assigning value to something, particularly two identical objects, requires subjectivity. The question you posed at the end of your post reminded me of the quote we talked about in class today: “Painting is the silence of thought and the music of sight” (59) and the importance of subjectivity when viewing art. The experience of a painting, is subjective and may not be the same for different people. For instance, one painting may cause a person to feel joy, while it causes another to feel sadness.
I love the premise of this post. I too have wondered about the bias against “counterfeit” works and objects. I like the way you framed the question at the end about determining what does and does not have value. While subjectivity certainly plays a significant role here, the reason that people take issue with “counterfeit” versions is to me a matter of authenticity. Counterfeits are not dismissed for their lack of artistry. It is the choice to copy-to ‘steal’ the style of another rather than to establish an original take on a given object of work of art. I believe it is the laziness of this act, the unbidden borrowing, that upsets people. Of course counterfeit artists are talented. But why then, wouldn’t they want to create their own unique works, and be recognized for their singular talents, rather than as copiers?
Hi Laura,
You bring up an extremely interesting idea of counterfeit versus original and I’ve often wondered how it is we assign value to things. I think this is especially relevant in the case of the coin and in our society today. Many people know that the penny is more expensive to make than the nickel and yet we consider it to be “worth” less. Similarly, while a counterfeit may arguably pay even more attention to detail for the sake of copying — for certainty no less effort in a lot of cases– than the original does, we value it so much less. So much of what we value lies in our perception of the object. In the antique auctions, objects can fall to a fraction of the price once found to be counterfeit even though aesthetically they’re exactly the same as what they were when we once thought them to be real. The history, the past of the object is something unseen and yet we value it so highly. If we don’t realize that something is fake–does it not exist to us as authentically as the real thing? And thus, does it matter if we don’t know?