A vibrant art scene can be ruined by the proliferation of art forgers. Maribel Ongpin looks into this old crime and gives helpful hints to avoid being victimised
Art forgery is as wide as the universe. This fluorishing industry traces its roots to the olden days, when, without rules on intellectual property or attributions to artists, the Romans copied the Greeks.
There was, however, an acceptance of copies of great art. What are now termed forgers were called copyists, and would be commissioned to copy say, the “Mona Lisa,” or a Rembrandt. They would then sign their names or they would not. It was understood and accepted as a copy. It was up front.
Art has always been, as it should, a part of daily life. From before and after the Renaissance, it was public art for the most, commissioned by churches, government institutions, public places. Then came those with disposable income and cultivated tastes; they had portraits done. In those days artists also had ateliers with helpers. It may, therefore, be guessed that under the name of Rembrandt, Titian, Velasquez, and others, there were lesser artistic hands that were part of the work completed. Now they try to classify art like that as “School of Rembrandt,” “Studio of Titian,” if they doubt that the master was the one who did all the brushwork.
The art world then was no more rarefied or commercialised than the trade of ordinary goods, albeit they were luxury goods.
It is only when art became status symbols in the times of great wealth (rather than portraits for your loved ones to remember you by in the pre-photography age or simple wall décor) that art forgery came into its own as profit to the forger, and menace to the artist—an underhanded activity. When art prices leap to unheard-of levels, when there is frenzy about acquiring art for investment, status symbol, or luxury, art forgery will keep up.
It is an economic crime, not quite vandalism really, but it steals from the original creative artists. Art forgers can be very talented in stealing someone’s style.
It is a problem here more than ever today with our burgeoning art market. Mabini artists painted a la Amorsolo but they signed their own names in yesteryears. Now that Amorsolo is a National Artist, a long-departed icon in the pantheon of Filipino art, with the cachet of being expensive, sought-after and renowned, he is subject to forgeries signed with his name.
Naturally, the art world has been alarmed and wants to fight back. Collectors fear the rise of fakes—they may mistakenly buy them; they may devalue what they already have of the artist in question. But it is not easy.