The Art of the Con: The Most Notorious Fakes, Frauds, and Forgeries in the Art World
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In the early 1990s, with Qian adrift in a sea of artistic obscurity, Carlos Bergantiños came across the Chinese painter selling his works downtown. While it’s not clear whether Bergantiños set out looking for a skilled forger or if he fell victim to an on-the-spot devious epiphany, something about Qian’s work stood out to Bergantiños. Here was an artist with true skill who might be willing to earn a few extra dollars. According to Qian, Bergantiños offered him $200—the equivalent of a very long day’s work—to imitate a work of modern art by a master artist. The offer was too good to turn down, and Qian produced the painting his new patron requested. Impressed with Qian’s work, Bergantiños came up with dozens of additional projects for him, each involving paintings in the style of world-famous Abstract Expressionist artists, including Jackson Pollock, Mark Rothko, Willem de Kooning, Robert Motherwell, Barnett Newman, and Franz Kline. On each, either Qian or Bergantiños would forge the signature of the artist.10 But of course, mimicry of a painting style is but one aspect of a convincing forgery. The right materials were essential to the creation of a convincing fake. So Bergantiños visited flea markets and art auctions to purchase old paintings purely for the sake of procuring period-appropriate canvases for Qian. In order to artificially “age” newer canvases, Bergantiños would stain them with tea bags—a smart approach to take considering that tea, as an organic material, would not be easily detected by scientists examining the works. In a further attempt to make the works appear older, Bergantiños would subject the finished paintings to heating and cooling and experimented with exposing them to the elements outdoors. Ever the innovator, Bergantiños tried propping a blow-dryer over one of the forgeries in an attempt to heat it. He would seek out older paints for use by Qian in his works. And he’d even purchase old furniture at flea markets and elsewhere in order to obtain Masonite, a board used in some furniture as well as in some works by Abstract Expressionists.11
Still, the scam was not complete without some semblance of provenance. No matter the efficacy of Qian’s brushwork or Bergantiños’s aging techniques, Glafira Rosales would need a backstory for the paintings that she would present for sale. She would have little success selling art whose origins could not be explained—that would set off red flags that she was trying to sell fakes or fence stolen works. Thus the David Herbert Collection was created.
Rosales pitched an elaborate story to explain the fortune in Abstract Expressionist paintings she sought to broker, one that evolved as needed. Initially, she said the David Herbert Collection had been amassed by an anonymous collector who would come to be known only as “Mr. X,” and his wife. The couple, she said, knew the artist Alfonso Ossorio, and he would take them to artists’ studios where they would buy works that would be added to their collection, which was maintained in storage. Soon after, however, this story fell apart when (the now deceased) Ossorio’s longtime companion, Ted Dragon, was vehement in his assertion that this could not have occurred without him knowing about it—and he didn’t. So Rosales adjusted the story, adding additional intrigue to make it yet more difficult to vet and, therefore, disprove. The second iteration of the collection’s provenance involved an affair between the married Mr. X, a deeply closeted homosexual, and David Herbert. It was Herbert, not Ossorio, who steered his lover to artists’ studios where Mr. X bought his collection of masterpieces. To make the story yet more difficult to confirm or deny, Rosales said the deals were always—conveniently for her purposes—made in cash, thus there was no money trail.12
Rosales used this story for only approximately 50 of the works she had available for sale. For an additional 13 or so, there was another fantastic tale. In this instance, Rosales claimed she was working on behalf of a Spanish collector who had received the works from a gallery in Spain. Rosales claimed that she and her boyfriend Bergantiños had interviewed the Spanish dealer to obtain details about his life to bolster provenance. The pair and Bergantiños’s brother Angel produced not just the forged paintings but forged documentation stating that the purported Spanish collector had certified the works as authentic.
Armed with the faux provenance, Glafira Rosales approached two esteemed galleries: Julian Weissman Fine Art and Knoedler & Company. At the latter, Rosales’s introduction through Jaime Andrade meant a solid start to her relationship with the gallery’s head, Ann Freedman. In 1994, Freedman bought from Rosales two works by the artist Richard Diebenkorn, who had a long relationship with the gallery and had died the previous year. A problem arose, however, just a few months after the acquisition when Diebenkorn’s widow and daughter, accompanied by art scholar John Elderfield, visited Knoedler and expressed to Freedman their skepticism that the works were authentic. Richard Grant, Diebenkorn’s son-in-law and executive director of his foundation, told the New York Times, “They didn’t look quite right, and we said, ‘The provenance is wacky and the story behind the provenance makes no sense.’” Though Freedman has disputed the family’s recollection, Elderfield, a former curator at the Museum of Modern Art, remembers expressing doubt about the work to her.13
It was later that same year that Rosales presented the story of Mr. X and described her previously undiscovered treasure trove of Abstract Expressionist works to Freedman. Rosales even produced an authentication document to be used by Knoedler, which stated that she was “the authorized agent, as well as a close family friend, of a private collector residing in Mexico City and Zurich [ostensibly, Mr. X].” It continued: “For various personal reasons the owner prefers to remain strictly anonymous as the seller. The art works [sic] were acquired by the current owner’s father directly from the artist and were passed by inheritance to his immediate heirs (son and daughter).” She further claimed “that the owner has absolute clear legal title to the [works].”14 With little additional inquiry or investigation into the story, Knoedler was all-in on the opportunity to consign the works, regardless of the sketchy provenance and changing tales.
In March 2001, Knoedler purchased a supposed Jackson Pollock painting from Rosales for $750,000. Nine months later, Knoedler sold the painting, Untitled, 1949, to Jack Levy, cochairman of mergers and acquisitions at Goldman Sachs, for $2 million. Ever the savvy businessman, Levy wisely included a provision to the purchase that stated that he would submit the painting to the well-respected International Foundation for Art Research in New York for authentication. Should IFAR find that the painting was not an authentic Pollock, he would be entitled to a refund. In October 2003, IFAR issued its report on Untitled, 1949, stating that it had conducted archival research, expert analysis, and interviews about the painting and found the provenance story to be “inconceivable,” “improbable,” and “difficult to believe.” IFAR concluded that it “believes that too many reservations exist to make a positive attribution to Jackson Pollock.” Levy returned the forged Pollock to Knoedler for a full refund.15 It’s a source of continuing wonder why more art buyers don’t take the same precautions as Levy when spending exorbitant amounts of cash on paintings, especially considering the long history of forgeries throughout the ages. A common response involves the fact that when one approaches a gallery with the esteem and history of Knoedler, they should have a high level of confidence in their purchase.
Knoedler was left red-faced after this mishap, and one might suspect that this would have led the gallery to end its relationship with Rosales and the paintings she was offering. IFAR’s reputation was well established over decades of outstanding work in the field of art authentication and assisting the art community and law enforcement in fighting art crime, and its results are accepted as the gold standard for provenance work. At the very least, one might expect that Knoedler would subject any future offerings from Rosales to intensive provenance research, including scientific analysis. But rather than distance itself from Rosales, Knoedler continued to buy and sell works from the contrived collection, including additional Pollocks she had produced.
For her part, Freedman has stated that in considering any
artwork for sale, it had been her consistent practice throughout her four decades of experience to enlist “scholars to research the provenance of a work that has been brought to my attention.” She said, “I have consulted preeminent experts to view the work and express their opinions about it, both orally and in writing. I make every reasonable effort to learn as much as possible about a work of art that is being offered for sale, and I then disclose to prospective purchasers the facts that I have learned—and the facts that I have not been able to learn—about the work.”16
Not so, says Domenico De Sole. The chairman of luxury retailer Tom Ford International and former president and CEO of the Gucci Group, De Sole is a man with an undeniable eye for style and a keen business sense. In 2004, the Rome native De Sole and his wife, Eleanore, contacted Freedman about purchasing an abstract work by Irish artist Sean Scully. They figured they would spend in the neighborhood of $1 million. When they met in person to discuss such an acquisition, Freedman used her legendary sales skills to convince the De Soles to purchase a much more expensive Abstract Expressionist painting: a work by the famous artist Mark Rothko. It took less than a month for Freedman to close the deal, selling Untitled, 1956, to the couple for $8.3 million.
It is the contention of the De Soles that Freedman went beyond innocently selling a forged work to them. Instead, they claim, the Knoedler president, in meetings with them and their consultant and agent Jim Kelly, “affirmatively and knowingly made an array of material false representations to induce the De Soles to purchase the [Rothko].”17 In addition to consistently representing that the Rothko was authentic, the De Soles say that Freedman told them the painting had been authenticated by Christopher Rothko (the artist’s son), Dr. David Anfam, who was the creator of Rothko’s catalogue raisonné—the scholarly compilation of the artist’s complete body of work—and other experts. They also claim that Freedman told them that Mr. X and Mr. X Jr. “were personally known to Knoedler” and that Mr. X Jr. wanted the painting to be sold to a collector as opposed to someone who planned to merely resell it.
When purchasing the painting, the De Soles remained somewhat concerned about the authenticity of the painting. Whether this was because of nagging doubts or simply because they were understandably cautious given the massive price tag is not clear. In any event, the couple requested a written assurance from Knoedler as to the authenticity of the work. In a letter addressed to the De Soles’ daughter, Laura, Freedman attested to the legitimacy of the Rothko, stating that “the painting has been viewed by a number of eminent scholars on Rothko as well as specialists on the Abstract Expressionist movement.” She added that Knoedler anticipated that Oliver Wick, who had previously curated a Rothko exhibition, would be requesting that the piece be loaned to him for an exhibition at the Fondation Beyeler, a famed repository of Rothko’s works. She wrote, “Mr. Wick considers the Rothko painting, Untitled, 1956, to be of superior museum quality.” She also included a bio of David Herbert.18 The letter sealed the deal. The De Soles were now the owners of a multimillion dollar painting attributed to Rothko that had actually been painted in Queens by a Chinese immigrant.
Like a number of history’s most famous artists, Robert Motherwell had to first meet his father’s demands before embarking on his career as a professional painter and collagist. Though the well-educated Motherwell studied literature, psychology, and philosophy at Stanford and did postgraduate work at Harvard, he decided to become an artist after visiting Paris and viewing the work of French Modernists. First, though, his father demanded that he complete his studies in art history at Columbia University in 1941 in order to ensure a “secure career.”19 Neither the artist nor his father could ever have dreamed that more than 60 years later (but just 3.5 miles away), forgeries carrying Motherwell’s name would be sold from the Knoedler Gallery for millions of dollars.
One such painting was titled Spanish Elegy, a 11⁄2 × 2–foot painting bought by Killala Fine Art, a respected gallery based in Dublin, Ireland, for $650,000. The painting was purported to be part of Motherwell’s monumental series Elegies to the Spanish Republic. This time, Rosales had sold the painting to Julian Weissman, a well-established dealer and a former associate at Knoedler & Company who operates the Weissman gallery in the Wall Street area. In 2006, Weissman contacted Marc Blondeau, who operated Killala, to let him know that he had a Motherwell for sale. Interested, Blondeau visited Weissman’s gallery to see the work and discussed provenance with the dealer. Weissman informed him that the owner of the painting he was consigning—Mr. X Jr.—did not wish to be identified but that his parents had purchased the painting directly from Motherwell. It was the classic Rosales fabrication. Though Weissman and Blondeau had done business together successfully for a decade, Blondeau knew this was shaky provenance and told Weissman that he would require certifications from both Weissman and the Dedalus Foundation.
In 1981, Motherwell established the Dedalus Foundation to foster an understanding of modern art. After his death, the foundation took control of the copyrights of Motherwell’s art and went to work establishing a catalogue raisonné of his work. Surely they held the expertise to authenticate one of Motherwell’s paintings for Weissman. In January 2007, the Dedalus Foundation’s president, Jack Flam, and the foundation’s executive director, Morgan Spangle, visited Weissman’s gallery and visually examined the painting, but did not subject the work to scientific testing. The results were just what Weissman had hoped: the pair declared the work to be a Motherwell and issued a letter of authenticity, writing, “It is the opinion of the Foundation that the Work is the work of Robert Motherwell.” Blondeau had an additional question: Would the work be included in the foundation’s coming catalogue raisonné of Motherwell’s works? Spangle wrote a clarification to Weissman for Blondeau stating, “Here is the letter of authenticity which is issued by the Foundation. While it does not say directly that the painting, Spanish Elegy, 1953, will be included in the catalogue raisonne which is being prepared by the Foundation, I can assure you that the painting will be included.”20
While it is not uncommon for works to be discovered after the publication of a catalogue raisonné, it does serve as an essential source for researching provenance and authenticating works. The foundation itself described it as “a reliable corpus of authentic works.”21 Based on the fact that Spangle assured Weissman that the painting would be in the catalogue raisonné of Motherwell’s works, Blondeau decided to purchase the painting from Weissman.
Despite Spangle’s enthusiastic tone, trouble loomed regarding the hasty authentication of Spanish Elegy. Later in 2007 and through January 2008, the Dedalus Foundation met with Ann Freedman three times to discuss the Motherwells from the David Herbert Collection. Seven purported Motherwells sold by Glafira Rosales—four to Knoedler and three to Weissman—were now thought by the foundation to be fakes because they found the explanation that the Motherwells were sold directly to Mr. X through Herbert implausible. In addition to provenance research that Flam would later describe as “just kind of fluff,”22 they told her that the Rosales Motherwells included stylistic anomalies. These findings were reiterated by Jack Flam in a meeting with Freedman on January 10, 2008.23
Unaware that these revelations had just recently been brought to Knoedler by the foundation about Rosales and the Mr. X provenance, Domenico and Eleanore De Sole contacted Freedman requesting an insurance appraisal for the Rothko they had purchased with the same provenance. Knoedler quickly replied to the request, valuing Untitled, 1956 at $9 million—an increase in value of more than a half-million dollars. Though Knoedler was now in possession of information that the authenticity of no less than eight paintings sold by Rosales from the David Herbert Collection (the Pollock bought and returned by Jack Levy and the seven Motherwells) was, to say the least, questionable, Freedman did not inform the De Soles that there might be an issue with the Rothko the gallery had sold them using the same exact backstory. The De Soles went on to spend $64,000 insuring a
painting that was, essentially, worthless—a fact that should have by now at least been on the minds of the leadership at Knoedler.24
While the De Soles were still under the illusion that they were in possession of a multimillion dollar painting from what they believed to be a credible source—the so-called David Herbert Collection—another wealthy collector, Pierre Lagrange, was also making a purchase from Ann Freedman at Knoedler & Company. The long-haired and wildly successful Belgian hedge fund manager had heard through dealers that Knoedler had a Jackson Pollock painting on the market. Eager to invest in a Pollock that he might later sell at a profit, Lagrange was intrigued. One of the dealers, Jamie Frankfurt, contacted Freedman on Lagrange’s behalf and expressed his interest in the Pollock. To explain the authenticity of the painting, Freedman told Frankfurt that the painting was from the private collection of Mr. X, who had obtained it from Jackson Pollock himself, through David Herbert. No mention was made of the Pollock with the same exact provenance that was returned by Jack Levy a few years earlier because of concerns as to its authenticity after an expert review. Rather, Freedman further told Frankfurt that the painting had been viewed favorably by a number of important experts—whose names she provided—and, according to Frankfurt, went on to say that the painting would appear in a soon-to-be-released addendum to the catalogue raisonné of Jackson Pollock. Nevertheless, Lagrange, who was based in London, wanted to see the painting before buying it. Excited at the prospect of a major sale, Freedman agreed to ship the supposedly valuable painting to Lagrange in London. It was a wise decision on Freedman’s part—after seeing it, Lagrange decided to purchase the painting, called Untitled, 1950, for $17 million.25
The claim about the painting being added to the Pollock catalogue raisonné is the subject of dispute between Frankfurt and Freedman. Freedman claims she merely said that she was lobbying the Pollock-Krasner Foundation for the painting’s inclusion. But in either scenario, the very idea of Untitled, 1950 being added to a forthcoming Pollock catalogue raisonné should have raised red flags: The Pollock-Krasner Foundation disbanded its authentication board in 1995 and hadn’t any plans to authenticate additional works, a fact well known to most insiders who make their business in the world of Abstract Expressionism. Furthermore, it appears that Freedman’s list of experts who had viewed Untitled, 1950 was just that—a list of viewers. Not a single one of them said they had come to Knoedler with the mission of inspecting the painting for the purpose of authentication.26