My sister has been going through her attic, trying to clear it out for the inevitable day when it’s going to be time to move out of the home she’s lived in for 40 years. She recently sent me this photo:
She thinks it’s our great-aunt’s, inherited by our mother. Before my sister sends this and other things to the thrift shop, she’s asking around the family to see if anyone wants them. So far, there have been few takers among our children for anything offered.
Eight years ago, Richard Eisenberg wrote a much-discussed article for Forbes Magazine with a title that told the sad truth: “Sorry – Nobody Wants Your Parents’ Stuff.” Hummel figurines, “limited-edition” multiples, those commemorative medallions that were being marketed as real investments in the 1950s – as with my great-aunt’s bowl, you often can’t even give them away to Generation X.
The same is true with 19th century art as well. The market for major works by members of the Hudson River School is still strong, but most such works passed into public collections long ago, and minor works, however attractive, by lesser-known members of the school can’t command anything like they once did. I recently finished an appraisal for a painting by a member of the group that had been purchased 25 years ago for almost $100,000. I appraised it for less than a third of that. Sorry, but that’s the current market.
Things go in and out of fashion. Buy what you like, and let it give you pleasure. If you hit the top of the market when it’s time to sell, that’s great, but don’t count on it. If you want advice about a particular area, give me a call. I’ll be happy to talk, although please remember that I don’t have a crystal ball, either.
By the way, I’m sure that some of my readers are much better-versed in late-19th-early-20th century ceramics than I am. If one of you recognizes the item in the photo as an extremely rare bowl, please don’t write to me, saying, “You putz! That was a Krumpfenkaddidlesteiner decorative bowl! The last one at auction brought $1,000,000!” Let me sleep at night while the lucky thrift store shopper revels in his good fortune. In cases like this, ignorance is bliss.
