Harris Schrank Fine PrintsJanuary 2009 - Harris Schrank Fine Prints

Archive for January, 2009

An Introduction to Goya’s Aquatint sets

Thursday, January 29th, 2009

I get many questions about Goya prints, so thought it might be useful to sketch an overview of some of his most famous and common prints: the aquatint sets. Francisco Goya (1746-1828) was of course one of the greatest of Western artists, and printmaking was central to his career. He created four major series of prints, and many other prints including a series of lithographs late in his career. Due to the way most of his prints were created and published, there is much confusion today about their dating, their rarity, their appearance and their value. In this guide I want to clarify some of the connoisseurship issues (ignoring for the moment the art historical and aesthetic issues) regarding the four major Goya print series: the Caprichos, Disasters of War, La Tauromaquia, and Los Proverbs (or Disparates). I’ll begin with a few notes on his basic printmaking method, then discuss the four series in turn.

Goya’s Printmaking Methods

Goya’s four major print series were each done in engraving. He worked, generally after making a preliminary drawing for guidance, on a copper plate. After damping the paper and putting a wax-like ground on the plate he would put the drawing face down on the plate, and run the paper and plate through a press. A copy of the drawing would transfer to the ground. He would then work over the lines on this ground with an etching needle; when put in acid the plate would be protected except where lines were drawn, and furrows would be eaten away by the acid. When the ground was taken off the plate, the plate would be inked and these furrows would hold ink even after the plate was wiped; a sheet of damp paper pressed over the inked plate would then pick up the lines of ink. This is the basic etching process.

The etching process creates lines on the plate; to get areas of shading, Goya used the method of aquatint. Here areas of the plate are grained and bitten with acid to roughen the plate surface so it will hold ink and print as tone. He probably applied resin to the plate after putting resin in a muslin bag, then shook it onto the plate. The plate would then have lots of tiny grains. Then the plate was warmed so that the resin
melted to the plate and stuck. When acid is then applied to the plate, it works around these grains, eating into the plate and creating areas of lots of tiny holes. If the acid is applied to an area twice or bathed in acid for a longer time, the holes would be deeper, and hold more ink – this area would print darker than the more lightly bathed area.

Goya worked on the plates in other ways to strengthen lines, to burnish away areas of aquatint or soften lines; he sometime also worked with a drypoint needle directly on the plate to get details right. So although his central method was aquatint, he worked over the plates in many ways to get the image and effects he wanted. But the pressure of the printing process takes its toll on copper plates, and these subtle effects – especially those in aquatint, which creates rather shallow pits in the plate – are lost after a large number of printings. My major point: all the work Goya did gets worn down as the plates wear over time, and tired, hazy impressions without contrast are the result. Now let’s look at the prints.

Los Caprichos

Los Caprichos, the earliest of the major Goya series, is a series of 80 engravings, published initially in 1799 by Goya himself. Goya produced a number of working proofs for these engravings, without the letters found on the bottom margin or the numbers at the top. Only two are known before aquatint. Then letters were added; more trial proofs taken and the letters on a number of these proofs corrected. These early proofs, and a few complete early sets, are fairly well documented; their location is known. In 1799 the prints were published in an edition of about 300, on fine quality strong laid paper, the sheets measure about 320 by 220 mm, in a warm sepia ink. These prints, in the First Edition, are each (of course) lifetime impressions. They vary a bit in quality, for as the run went into the hundreds the aquatint began to wear out, the different layers of shading became less distinct. But in general these prints are fine impressions.

In 1855, long after Goya’s death, the Calcografia in Madrid issued another set of Los Caprichos, now on wove paper. This edition was small, and the quality was generally good although variable. But the prints are not comparable to those of the First Edition. The Calcografia produced another edition (the Third Edition), also on wove paper, in 1868. Further editions were done in the late 1800’s, with various inks, still on wove paper, and the plates continued to deteriorate. The plates were then steelfaced (a tiny layer of steel applied to them, to halt the deterioration). More additions were produced by the Calcografia, with various papers, watermarks, sizes and inks, up through the 12th Edition, issued in 1937.

All of these posthumous edition impressions are in some sense “original Goya prints,” i.e., they were taken off of the original plates. The editions, almost all originally in bound volumes of 80, have been broken up and impressions are sold singly. Connoisseurs of course prefer the impressions from the First Edition, and the earlier impressions from that edition if possible.

The Disasters of War

This second series of Goya prints has a quite different history from the Caprichos. Again, it is a series of 80 prints, but produced over a longer period, from about 1808 to 1814, the period of the Napoleonic Wars and the Great Famine in Madrid in 1811-12. Working materials were scarce, and Goya worked on used plates, often cutting them in half or working on the back of worn or defective plates. This shows in the results; even the earliest impressions generally lack the incisiveness, and clarity of aquatint shading, of the Caprichos plates. But given the subject matter and the nature of the materials Goya worked with this series remains one of the great artistic and printmaking achievements.

Goya produced trial proofs, and even some complete proof sets of the Disasters after all the plates were completed. But he did not have an edition published at that point, or later during his lifetime. He left for France in about 1820, and had the plates stored in safes by his son, Javier. After Javier’s death in 1854 the plates were acquired by the Academia de San Fernando. At this point the plates were washed and proofs taken in preparation for an edition. Trial proof sets were made for the edition (a small number are documented), before the letters in the bottom margin were added. Then First Edition sets were printed (in 1862-3); some sets made before corrections in the lettering of some of the plates, a later group after the corrections. The size of these first two editions is about 500. These were done on wove paper, many with JGO and palmette watermarks, in a sepia ink.

After the First Edition six more editions were published, of varying quality on a variety of papers, through the Seventh Edition in 1937. The editions did not get worse uniformly after the First, but, as in the case of the Caprichos, the First is by far more desirable (and of course the lifetime proofs are most desirable of all).

La Tauromaquia

The 33 original plates of this series were created in about 1815-1816, and were printed in an edition by Goya at that time (he produced a number of additional plates but rejected them), after a number of proof impressions were made. The set is on fine laid paper, with certain watermarks, printed in sepia ink. The edition was very small, perhaps much smaller than the Los Caprichos edition of 300. As with the other series, the Calcographia produced additional editions, starting with a small one in 1855 (on wove), a Third in 1876 (on laid), up to a Seventh in 1937. For the printing of the Third Edition the printer got ahold of seven of the previously rejected plates (actually printed on the back of seven of the original plates) and printed them (lettering them A-G) as part of a set, making the total 40. These latter plates were not, then, editioned during Goya’s lifetime.

Los Proverbios

The eighteen Proverbios prints were made at various times from about 1815-1824. Like the Disasters series prints, a few proofs were made of these prints by Goya, but no edition produced. The plates were then stored, with the plates of the Disasters, by his son Javier, and re-discovered after Javier’s death. It’s a mystery why a lifetime edition was not produced. Trial proofs were printed prior to the publication of the First Edition in 1864. After publication of the First Edition (in an edition of 300) an additional four plates were discovered in the possession of an artist, and these were published in L’Art in 1877, for the first time.

The plates of the Proverbios were re-editioned 8 times after the First Edition, the last edition in 1937, on various papers, different inks, and with widely varying results. As with each of the Goya sets, the deterioration after the initial printing – and even through the initial printing – was considerable.

I get more questions about Goya prints than almost any other artist. People typically have a print or two and wonder whether it’s lifetime or posthumous, valuable, a good example, a reproduction. This overview may provide some sense of the issues and complexities entailed in answering these questions. And if it leads you to contact me for further discussion – that’s fine! Harris Schrank

Posted in Francisco Goya |

A Cautionary Note on Rembrandt Prints

Thursday, January 29th, 2009

Many aspiring print collectors are initially interested in collecting Rembrandt prints; this is understandable since Rembrandt is well known, and of course fine examples of Rembrandt prints are extraordinarily beautiful and justifiably sought after. But a high level of Rembrandt print connoisseurship can be gained only through study, or the guidance of a reputable and knowledgeable dealer, or preferably both. This note is an introduction to some of the issues.

Rembrandt made etchings and drypoints, working on copper plates, creating ink-holding furrows in these plates either directly (using a drypoint needle) or with etching (drawing through a wax-like substance covering a plate, then bathing the plate in acid to create furrows). At some point in this process he might take an impression to see what his print looks like; he might then change the plate adding some lines or burnishing out lines, check it again (thus creating a new state of the print), do this until he was satisfied with the plate, then print impressions as he cared to, sometimes over a period of years.

Each time a print is made, the copper plate wears down a bit. A shallow drypoint line would wear down quickly; the burr created when the drypoint line was drawn would wear off particularly quickly, losing its capacity to hold ink after perhaps 20 or 30 impressions. Etched lines wear down too. Worn plates make worn impressions.

When Rembrandt died (in 1669), many of his plates had been cancelled or destroyed, but about 100 were intact. These generally worn plates were then used by others to make more prints, and as the plates became more worn, they were reworked, by successive re-touchers and restorers (their names include Watelet, then Basan, Jean, Bernard, Beaumont (we’re now into the 20th Century!). The evolution of the plates, changes in the lines, reworkings, etc., are fairly well documented. Thousands of these prints (sometimes called re-strikes) are now on the market. Some are still being produced! In many cases they only vaguely resemble the compositions or details that Rembrandt had in mind. They never have the richness, or details, or subtleties of the lifetime impressions.

Traditionally (and still) considered nearly valueless by reputable dealers, Rembrandt restrikes now enjoy a new life on the market, largely due to the presence of huge numbers of internet buyers eager to obtain a real Rembrandt print. Some auction houses sell hundreds of these prints at a time; it’s possible to sit through hours of Rembrandt lots, all with four or five figure sales (i.e, from about $1000 to 10,000 or sometimes more), without encountering a single lifetime impression in the sale.

Because Rembrandt is so well known, many collectors want to start their print collecting career by owning a Rembrandt. But, as noted above, Rembrandt print connoisseurship is particularly involved and complex. Even among the lifetime impressions, some are especially beautiful or striking, some less so. He printed impressions personally, often varying the inks, the paper, the wiping (how much and how selectively he wiped the ink off the plate before printing), and of course made different states. Some great Rembrandt prints are sold for over a million dollars, and all lifetime impressions do and should have a substantial value. In some cases the early states of the prints are well documented, so if it’s clear that Rembrandt himself made changes to a plate, an early state would definitely be a lifetime impression. But sometimes cataloguers include states made after Rembrandt’s death, and if Rembrandt only made one state and never changed the plate, a print called a first state of two or three could be either lifetime or posthumous – this can become a matter of judgement and connoisseurship .

Often people mistakenly pay too much for a common Rembrandt restrike (perhaps misleadingly sold – nicely framed of course – as a lifetime impression), and when they learn about what they’ve done become soured on print collecting. But some go from this early misstep to develop their print knowledge and connoisseurship.

An aspiring connoisseur should see lots of impressions (in the great museum collections) before buying one; should consult with trusted dealers and scholars about any prospective print; should read a number of the catalogues on Rembrandt to get a sense of the evolution of the plate over time. Watermarks may give a sense of when a print was made during Rembrandts’s lifetime, and there are books and articles on Rembrandt watermarks.

The recently published (2014) Hollstein catalog set by Eric Hinterding and Jaco Rutgers is absolutely essential as a reference for anyone looking into a Rembrandt print, and the set references volumes on watermarks done earlier, so those volumes are necessary for reference as well. These are available at the better museum print rooms; dealers in fine Rembrandt prints should of course also have and be familiar with these references.

But even if one is willing to get into this depth, and then willing to spend large sums, my advice to the beginning collector is to study Rembrandt, but learn about other artists too – there are many ways to get into print collecting and many wonderful artist/printmakiners and prints to choose from. For example, wonderful lifetime impressions of prints by Rembrandt’s 17th Century Dutch contemporaries, such as Adriaen Van Ostade, or Cornelis Bega, are available at a fraction of the cost of many Rembrandt re-strikes on the market.

I am happy to discuss these issues, as well as any other matters pertaining to fine prints; feel free to contact by e mail or phone (see my home page) – Harris Schrank

Posted in Rembrandt van Rijn |

The Alliance of the White King, The Pope, Spain, and Hungary

Wednesday, January 28th, 2009

Hans Burgkmair (1459-1519), The Alliance of the White King, The Pope, Spain and Hungary, woodcut, 1514-1516. Reference: Bartsch 80-(224) 182 [by Leonhard Beck], from the History of Emperor Maximilian I. In very good condition (with margins; some very old script in ink at bottom margin, some slight staining, foxing), on old laid paper, 8 3/8 x 7 5/8, the sheet 10 1/8 x 8 1/2 inches.

Provenance: Karl Edward von Liphart (1808-1891, Dorpat, Bonn and Florence), with his graphite mark verso (Lugt 1651, see also Lugt 1687, 1688). Lugt notes of Liphart, a distinguished collector of old master prints, “il commence par l’oeuvre de Ridinger et par un achat considerable GG. Boerner in Leipsig en 1836.”

A very good impression.

The History of the Weisskunig (White King) is an autobiography in the style of an illustrated novel without words. Although it is the story of Emperor Maximilian I all the characters have symbolic names. The White King is the name Maximilian chose for himself, as it both stands for whiteness (purity) and is associated with the word for wisdom (Weisheit).

Hans Burgkmair, the eminent Augsburg painter and printmaker was in effect Maximilian’s official court artist. He worked with other artists, including Leonhard Beck (Germany, Augsburg, 1480 – 1542), in developing the plates for the Maximilian series. At the time of the original cataloguing this block was given to Beck; in the more recent edition of Bartsch it is given to Beck but the decision was made to continue its cataloguing under Burgkmair, to avoid confusion and keep the ordering and placement of all the blocks of the series intact.

This is one of a bound group of old master prints, including other woodcuts by Burgkmair, Hans Weiditz, Hans Schaufelein and others. Many of these prints have the mark of the eminent collector Karl Edward von Liphart (Lugt 1651) verso. We are currently doing research on the collection so it is not on the market as yet.

Posted in Hans Burgkmair |