Well, if your aunt asked you to explore the possibility of a painting being the work of a famous painter, what would you do?
(See the last post for background).
There’s the painting. It has no artist’s signature. It requires a visit to at least New York and possibly Paris.
Are you in? Do you want to find out?
My niece was willing to help, but the painting never got to Paris. Cathleen and I started worrying about what would happen if Avtar crossed international borders carrying a framed piece of paper in and came out with the work of a master. Would there be duty to pay?
We researched and checked and ultimately the painting did not get to my niece in time to go to Paris. Once Avtar did receive it in New York this spring, Chagall’s granddaughter advised her to get the Paris Committee to rule.
They did.
No. It is not a real Chagall.
Bummer.
I should have realized how many forgeries exist from well-known painters of the last century. Salvador Dali was famous for signing his large signature on all sorts of empty canvases before his death. The idea was, since the signature was real, his students could paint in Dali’s distinctive manner and command high prices.
Dali, however, may have had some compunction at the last–his signature is so different in so many different ways–115 in all–now no one can tell an authentic signature from a later one.
I met two young men once who were just back from the Tahitian south seas islands where French artist Paul Gaugin went native. They had met several of his descendents and paid them to produce “primitive” paintings in the style of their grandfather.
“Genuine Gaugins!” the young men explained, trying to make me understand why someone would pay a lot of money for artwork that looked, well, pretty primitive to me.
How do you tell if a painting you like is really painted by a famous painter?
Does it matter?
Only if you’re paying a lot of money.
The fact is, I liked the faux Chagall painting no matter who actually painted it. 
Here’s a real one with a provenance. Do you see similarities? The asking price starts at $25,000. No wonder some one might be tempted to copy it.
The Chagall we’ve been working with had similar details to this real one. Closer examination showed pencil markings on the paper used by whomever painted it. We were curious from the start, however, by those words painted in the middle: vinculo matrimonii.
The term “vinculo matrimonii” is a Latin term meaning “from the bonds of marriage.” Attempts to find more information on the Internet refer to divorce a vinculo matriomnii–in which the bonds are severed. But this doesn’t look like a divorce document to me.
One of my relatives suggested it could be akin to a Jewish ketubah–a highly decorated nuptial agreement used in some Jewish weddings.
Nice try, but ketubahs, even ones stylized after the works of Marc Chagall, include detailed writing. This one just has the two Latin words and the potential for something written on the Ten Commandments-type plaque.
We like the idea, though, of a link to marriage.
The table could be an altar, the circular lines above the table could indicate the traditional canopy for a Jewish wedding. Certainly the menorah and the star of David suggest a Hebraic tradition.
We’re not Jewish, but we appreciate the history–onto which my Christianity is considered to be grafted in according to Romans 11.
In the meantime, no matter who the painter turns out to be, we just like the painting. So we bought it from the Redwood Gospel Mission and had it framed.
It’s our anniversary, after all, and we love a piece of art with a story behind it.
What do you think this painting might be about? Who might have painted it and why?
Here’s my theory: Chagall painted it for a dear and beloved godchild and the term “from the bonds of marriage” is actually to celebrate that child’s birth from the blessed joining by his/her parents. As a simple sketch using some of the images that Chagall was researching and experimenting with in preparation for his Jerusalem Windows project, he felt no need to be formal and sign it. It may have been a “cast off” that his godchild retrieved from the trash bin and begged “Uncle Marc” to give him/her. I see it hanging in a simple frame for years until a fatal malady took this child, now an adult with kids of their own, suddenly. None of the beneficiaries of the estate really knew the history of this quirky art piece so it was dropped into the boxes of donations going to the mission. There’s your ‘new’ provenance! :o)
Sounds like a great idea to me! New framing due next week we should have a French-themed party to celebrate!