Going, going, gone

I am 52 and among the list of things still to do before I die is going to an auction – and managing to buy something. Actually I do remember going to a cattle market when I was about five to see my uncle, an auctioneer, in action. But that doesn’t quite count.

This weekend the ambition was at least half realised with a trip to the monthly “antique, furniture, art-works and everything else you can think of” auction at the local village of Willingham. The ostensible reason was to find some kitchen chairs.

Viewing began on Thursday. It turned out that the chairs we had spotted on the web were no good, but the shed-loads (literally) of other stuff looking for a good home was extremely enticing. OK, you could keep the cigarette cards, old teddy bears, televisions, garden furniture, military uniforms, People’s Princess figurines, and the rest.  But then there were the “five taxidermy exotic birds under glass domes” (export permit required; est. £150/200)  and the pair of 1850s Parian busts of  Victoria and Albert (the only trouble being that they came as a job lot with  another lone Victoria and a very nasty Shakespeare for a total est. of £80/140). More than 1300 lots in all.

It was a bit like going to a supermarket when you’re hungry.

The Saturday of the auction was gently heaving with all conditions of humanity. There were sharp dealers in white linen jackets, fenland farmers, glaringly obvious US servicemen from the local air bases looking for a piece of English memorabilia to take home, and a few wandering academics from Cambridge (one of whom went away with a rather luscious black cape). Meanwhile village ladies cooked up the most deliciously smelling bacon butties to keep the punters going in the café all morning.

It seemed also that it was one of the few British institutions that still worked with a considerable degree of trust on all sides. People just put their hands up, bid and then went and paid their money (there was no leaving your credit card number first, or anything like that). When I naively suggested to the husband, having watched some friends of ours also eyeing up the stuffed birds, that we should do a deal in advance so that we didn’t bid against each other – he firmly pointed out that this was grossly illegal and the first step towards the kind of behaviour that gets BA fined 270 million pounds. And certainly the rhetoric after the sale was very much of the “was it you I was bidding against?” kind.

The upshot? Well, predictably enough, lots of the things we didn’t want went at their estimate or below. Most of what we did want was wanted by others too. “The mahogany attendance board” which I had rather set my heart on (it was obviously from a seminary or monastery and told you whether the monks were in or out) went for more than twice the estimate, and left us well behind. So did the birds (to our friends, in fact). The husband did however manage to acquire a lovely Victorian folding screen. Flushed with success, we left before they had got to Victoria and Albert.

So we’ve broken our duck – and are beginning to feel that it could become addictive. Next time, I’m going to make sure I get to put my hand up. Meanwhile, of course,  our ever sharp cleaning lady, with whom we had discussed the urgent need for some chairs, left us a well targeted note, having spotted the new purchase: “Like the beautiful screen – but you can't sit on it!”

Comments

[dr venables preller]

Mary, I wonder whether one aspect of auctions in that they make available to a sometimes gullible public craftily restored – one hesitates to use the term bodged (though that would aptly describe an ‘early English oak sideboard’ I once purchased. - in spite of an ambiguous description) and rapidly moved on when it turned out not to be what it seemed – objects from an earlier era- has any parallel in the field of historical research? I’m thinking of the quest for authenticity which might perhaps, on occasion, rosily tint the perspective of interpretation at a later date if it were to reside more in the mind of the researcher than in any solid evidence. No doubt the faculty has evolved suitable (non judgmental) language to describe work where flexibility has be added to earlier analysis. There’s fascinating scope, too, for change over time arising from aural recollection and the changing meaning of language. AF does of course also stand for American Ford, an engineering standard for nuts and bolts which ran in parallel with BSW (British Standard Whitworth) prior to the metric standard.

[Mary]

Tim. A salutary corrective to my naive enthusiasm! And - thanks -- I'd been wondering what exactly A/F stood for (though, given the lots it was against, I had kind of got the general point).

[Tim Cooper]

Further to my last, most damage goes unreported. However in some cases, usually where the auction house has absolutely no option, the letters A/F (as found) appears alongside a lot description. This is to give an impression of honesty and transparency and might apply to e.g. 'A 19thC marble bust of Julius Caesar with his head missing' (a/f)!

[Tim Cooper]

Mary,

Auction houses take absolutely no prisoners. They are institutions run by hard-nosed businessmen and women. They succeed within a quasi- theatrical atmosphere which maintains a thin veneer of 'gosh what fun!' for the general public, backed up by recent relentless television spectacles.

Most will take no risk whatsoever Even provincial houses can charge £10 or more for their catalogue, which is filled with carefully posed images, just like their websites, with estimates which in some cases are either unfeasibly low to encourage attendance, or unduly high to encourage people with more money than sense to bid up.

For items up to £1000 their usual selling commission is 15% + VAT. Most charge a dubious, but so far uncontested 'buyer's premium' of usually 17.5% + VAT (some 20%).
So for every £1000 item they sell, they receive around £325. Unsold lots often carry a minumum charge of £5. Storage after a short period for uncollected items can be £5 per day per lot, and delivery and collection services also attract charges. There are further insurance charges for sellers, whereas bought goods remain uninsured immediately the hammer falls.

Typically auction houses will absolve themselves from all errors of description including damage, originality period and generally poor condition; the onus is always on the buyer - an exception is if the item sold can be shown to be a deliberate forgery.

Because auctioneers are not prepared to give warranties and only act as agents for the vendors be prepared for furniture which has undergone considerable repair; sets of chairs which are loose, need fully restoring and upholstery; chests of drawers which have been reduced in size to add value; tables with matching tops from something else, ceramics with cunning unspecified restoration or missing parts 'tidied' up; clocks with parts missing or with movements that do not belong to their cases; retouched pictures with dubious attribution; copies described as originals and worst of all items which when you viewed were intact and, either during the viewing, or since have been damaged by porters.

Auctions can be extremely disappointing or costly for the unwary. Beware the group of intimidating men, huddled together, who avoid eye contact but who in reality are keeping a close watch on newcomers or strangers. Remember that very often the owners of the goods on sale are also in the room.

[dr venables preller]

Mary - you need feel no guilt as to any risk of post-colonial exploitation - rather a warm glow from outsourcing your sculptural needs to a lower cost and (who knows?) possibly artistically less challenged (in a primitive sense) artisan in a remote location.

Your expenditure might even finance a modest contribution to local education, as a more meaningful source of self-help than charitable NGOs!

Swaziland might, in time, merit historical reearch. A relatively young country in the living laboratory of evolving human relations that is Africa holds exciting possibilities for better understanding of age-old conundra.

[Mary]

Paul -- a fair point. I suppose because British tat is MY tat ..and I can buy it without feeling guilty of post colonial exploitation..or whatever. Does that make sense?

[paul potts]

Dear Mary

Here in Swaziland I recently acquired a cat. She is brilliant, delightful, friendly, very pretty, especially the black eyes. To celebrate my joy, I found a sculptor, local, who agreed to make a sculpture of this cat in stone, with her colours (white and grey) and her eyes. To do this, he had to find the stone, do the work, and find his way to my place to deliver it. He asked 20 pounds for several days' work. He thought that the price was a bit over the top, and so it may have been in local terms, but I have much more work for him to do: his other work is stunning, in concrete or cement or whatever.

Now, why are you so interested in your local British tat, when such wonders are available elsewhere?

[Hein Maassen]

At Dutch Catholic schools there also was a custom to write AMDG (Ad maiorem Dei gloriam = To the greater glory of God) at the beginning of your work. I do not know whether this custom was limited solely to Jesuit schools. Perhaps it was used as a charm to get better results. You could also write JMJ (Jezus, Maria, Jozef = Jesus, Mary, Joseph).

[Jackie]

The trick when going to auctions is to remember the golden rule 'HOW MUCH SPACE IS THERE IN MY CAR?' Don't get carried away when you see a really beautiful (but very large) antique chest of drawers that would 'go very nicely in my bedroom and replace at least two of the crappy ones already there.' If you can't get it in the back of your car it can turn out to be a very expensive purchase, and probably won't fit where you thought it would anyway!

[dr venables preller]

It can be addictive. One of the conditions predisposing to addictive behaviour is that the reward whilst appearing rational should have a random element. This tricks the brain into wanting more because although the expected reward didn't materiaise last time, it might do so next.

I used to enjoy the local antiques and household goods sale on Friday nights at Gillingham, Dorset in the early 1970s.

This was always well-attended as it was an important part of town entertainment and community. In the absence of day time tv-driven popularity of autions (as now), real bargains were to be had. I remember one occasion when I purchased an assorted lot containing one item I wanted. Having removed the piece I left the remainder without reserve for the next sale - when I received three times what I had paid!

The downside is that if one has a tendency to accrete clutter, that's going to happen.

The upside is that in an inflation ary environment, even clutter may eventually fetch more than was paid,
unlike some other things. It's also a very sound way to furnish and equip an empty house.

[anthony alcock]

AMDG was what I had to write at the head of everything I wrote at school. LDS was what I wrote at the end. It was a Jay (Jesuit) school.