Why fake Brancusi thrive on the art market
The work of this Romanian sculptor, who revolutionized modern art with pure forms, is the subject of intense speculation and numerous attempts at fraud.
It’s a funny piaf, a firecracker blue, swollen like a wineskin, with its beak straightened. For a year, this plaster bird has been sitting in Gilles Perrault's office, rue de la Paix, in Paris. The sworn expert believes “90%” that it is a sculpture by Constantin Brancusi (1876-1957), from the “Maïastra” family, a fabulous bird inspired by Romanian folklore that the sculptor made into a series . He takes as proof this label stuck to the base, referring to number 283 in the catalog of the twelfth exhibition of the artistic youth society, organized in 1913 in Bucharest, Romania. From a sheaf of papers Gilles Perrault unearths this comment from a visitor to the show, a certain Léo Bachelin, whose mention he found in a book published in 1998 by a Romanian Brancusi specialist, Barbu Brezianu: “Here is a bird which stands on its tail, which is not ordinary, and whose heart is round like an egg, from which a pipe-shaped neck emerges, all painted electric blue. »
Brancusi is one of those names which, with Picasso or Matisse, is hitting the art market. The Romanian sculptor has in fact revolutionized modern art with pure, immediately identifiable forms, such as this Fusional Kiss, a copy of which is in the Montparnasse cemetery in Paris. In 2018, a 1932 bronze, inspired by activist Nancy Cunard, exceeded $71 million (€65.4 million). Gilles Perrault, who says he swears only by “scientific truth”, has already given negative opinions on six works attributed to Brancusi. But, this time, he assures, this bird ticks almost all the boxes: “The pictorial layer is compatible with a painting from the presumed period, the metal framework of the plaster resembles that used by Brancusi, the paper of the label is old, the ink is consistent with that of the time. »
Sulfur Merchant
One problem, however: the other works that appeared in the 1913 exhibition, now kept at the Museum of Fine Arts in Bucharest, do not have labels. Have these disappeared over the years, or did they simply never exist? The shape of the bird also differs from the bronze Maïastra held at the Tate Modern in London. Its dimensions would be closer, in the eyes of the expert, to a marble example owned by MoMA. But the New York museum did not give him permission to scan it.
Gilles Perrault's stubbornness is not without irritating Theodor Nicol, Brancusi's successor, who believes that the bird is not authentic. Through his lawyer, Me Jean-Jacques Neuer, he had already reported it in March 2021 to Artcurial, which had been offered the object. Bruno Jaubert, associate director of the auction house, was not upset: “The information surrounding the object was vague, and there were no documents of tangible provenance. »
Margit Rowell, a former curator at the Center Pompidou, shares Theodor Nicol's opinion, as does Friedrich Teja Bach, author of a reference catalog on Brancusi published in 1988. The latter had already issued a negative opinion in May 2008, when the bird was submitted to him by Jean-Luc Verstraete, a sulphurous merchant prosecuted, in the 1990s, for having robbed the widow of Marc Chagall (1887-1985). “The blue color, in certain parts, was not completely dry,” recalls the art historian, before adding: “There is a major problem of form and style. »
Teja Bach’s expertise is authoritative on the market. “No one would risk selling an unlisted work by Brancusi without his signature, and the various cases of forgery lead us to be cautious,” confirms modern art broker Thomas Seydoux, a former Christie’s employee. Regularly requested, Friedrich Teja Bach has however decided to no longer issue certificates. “Giving expert opinions on Brancusi has become dangerous, physically and legally,” murmurs the historian, chilled by the threats to which he has often been subjected.
Prices are rising
Theodor Nicol does not issue a certificate either. But without his copyright, it is impossible to reproduce a work by Brancusi. The former telecommunications engineer who, since 1997, has managed the sculptor's estate following his aunt Natalia Dumitrescu, an artist whom the Romanian had chosen as universal heir with her husband, the painter Alexandre Istrati, is not a historian of art, which earned him sarcasm from the museum world. Some curators criticize him for casting gleaming posthumous bronzes, deemed contrary to the wishes of Brancusi, who took care of his prints and polished each sculpture himself.