Fake Estate

When there’s a great [artist], the people don’t know it-—and they let him
starve; and when he is dead and it is too late, his name fills the whole world, and the riches come.

This notion sparks the ploy in Mark Twain's 1898 play, "Is He Dead?," to fake the death of an impoverished artist in order to cash in on his paintings. I've only read the first of the three acts, and it's classic Clemens (insightful, funny, a tad jaded), but only learned of its existence via a note in today's New York Times reporting that it's being revamped and brought to Broadway:

The dates have been set for Mark Twain’s new play (yes, explanation to come). “Is He Dead?,” a farce about a group of artists who stage their mentor’s death to make his paintings more valuable, is to open Nov. 29 at the Lyceum Theater on Broadway, with previews to begin Nov. 8. Michael Blakemore (“Deuce,” “Copenhagen”) will direct, and Norbert Leo Butz will star. The play, written in 1898, was rediscovered five years ago in the Twain archives at the University of California, Berkeley. David Ives (“All in the Timing”) is adapting the play, reducing the number of characters and further developing the plot.

The villain of the play, of course, is a "picture-dealer" who threatens to ruin the young hero artist unless he (the dealer) can marry the artist's beloved Cecile (the names throughout bear a resemblance to those found in "The Importance of Being Earnest" and "The Picture of Dorian Gray" [both produced previous to "Is He Dead?"...coincidence? Just popular names at the time?]).

I love how "picture-dealer" was the generally accepted term up through even the 1930s or later. I don't love, of course, how the dealer is portrayed as taking advantage of the artists, but...we've been all over that.

What's most interesting about this narrative, though, is how it demonstrates that the messy business of selling art has changed very little over the past 100+ years. Mostly it's done with charm, flattery, and a feigned sense of urgency. And it doesn't matter who's doing the selling. In the following speech, the lead artist instructs his comrades on how to quickly sell a room full of new paintings. No dealer is present:

Fall in! Attention! Now boys, prepare to receive the visitors and transact
business. Fasten onto them—hang to them—don’t let anybody get away without buying a picture at some price or other. Get two hundred francs for the small minor pictures when you can—take less when you must—but sell.

In the following scene, which I've edited to avoid the confusing sidebars (reading it, you understand why the producers are reducing the number of characters), Thorpe is a rich English merchant...a prospective buyer...standing before a painting by the protagonist (and soon to be fake dead, but currently unknown, artist) Jean François Millet. Everest is a young artist trying to help sell out the show:

BASIL THORPE
(Before the [largest painting])
Dear me, that looks good. I wish I knew something about pictures.

(Turning to Everest.)
Beg pardon did you speak to me?

EVEREST
I was only saying it is good.

THORPE
Thanks again. It looks very good. Do you think he will become known?

EVEREST
Without a doubt. Not a doubt in the world. That picture will be worth
a thousand pounds some day—maybe more.

THORPE
Dear me! Well I’ve heard of such things. But one can never tell when it’s
going to happen. I wonder what its price is.

EVEREST
(Hesitating—pulling up his courage.)
Er – – – three thousand francs.
(Aside.)
Makes me gasp!

THORPE
(Musingly.)
I’ve a mind to take it. I’ve a mind – – –

EVEREST
(Aside—excited.)
He’s landed—I’ve got him, sure! By Jove our troubles are over and old
Millet’s safe!

THORPE
Yes – – I will take it.

EVEREST
(Aside.)
O, Lovely!

THORPE
Tell me, young man, how do you know it’s a good picture?

EVEREST
Because I am an artist myself.

Well, that settles it then.

As we pontificate about flippers and speculators, as if they represented a new and dangerous scourge on the art world, such reminders that it has always been such are good to help us keep some perspective. The Merchant, without any knowledge of art, and not entirely sure the work was any good, was prompted to buy because he was promised it would appreciate. The seller (an artist), anxious to turn the canvas into cash, said anything he felt the buyer wanted to hear. It's a comedy, of course.