How to Identify the Artist of a Painting?
My own Experience of Art Provenance Research and Discovery
You may have read my numerous Art Collecting Guide stories on how to safely buy an Old Master [including examining the painting surface, the frame, and the back of the picture]. Here I follow precisely the steps I covered above that you could use in the art research and discovery process of your own.
I bought this intriguing female portrait by an unknown painter several years ago. “England, 19th century” — that’s basically all the details a provincial German auction house has included in the lot information space.
The painting had a rather modest estimate which would be typically given to a no-name small-scale picture like this one.
- This story is not that much about price hunting, but rather a sometimes miraculous process of art research and discovery. Nevertheless, to give you a rough idea, it was something around a grand (a safe bet for sellers and it really doesn’t matter if it is a misattributed Rembrandt or an 1800s study of a beautiful lady’s head).
A gut feeling was urging me to sign up for the sale and hope the price wouldn’t go up too much and leave me without the joy of a new acquisition waiting for its mysteries to be solved.
Luckily, the fellow bidders weren’t too aggressive that day (a coin flip, really) and I secured the deal knowing I wouldn’t regret it even if my own investigation failed.
Jumping ahead I can say that it didn’t.
Step #1. Always look at the back first
Alas, the small low-resolution picture that went with the lot was the only piece of evidence I had to make the decision of going for the portrait or not.
- No backside photos, and no time to ask for one (chances were they wouldn’t send me anything taking into account the huge number of lots in that general sale and the lack of staff to deal with all of them individually).
So, when the painting arrived, the first thing I did was a careful examination of the back of the panel.
I couldn’t believe my luck! It brought me all the bits of evidence I needed to crack the case like a good old Belgian friend of mine, M. Hercule Poirot.
Let’s look at it together.
1. The Label
It is really the first thing that jumps out at you when you turn the wooden panel.
“PREPARED PANEL
Winsor & Newton (Limited),
ARTISTS’ COLOURMEN
To Her Majesty and to T.R.H. The Prince and Princess of Wales
38, Rathbone Place, W.
and
North London Colour Works, Kentish Town, N.W.”
A-ha! That’s why the German auction house thought it was an English School! How close and, in fact, how far they were from the truth.
Actually, the fact that the mystery artist used a Winsor & Newton prepared panel for his artwork meant almost nothing and certainly didn’t make him English. These panels were rather popular among artists of the second half of the 19th century and likely signified that the painter may have visited London at some point in his or her career and bought the art supplies.
However, this label gave me a rather precise clue for the date of this portrait!
- The history of the Winsor & Newton art supply firm is documented extremely well. Judging by the naming printed out on the label I could narrow down the time frame of when it was produced and, this way, tentatively painted out by the artist.
The exact wording [the addition of this “Limited” in particular] was used by the company since 1882.
This precision to a decade of 1880s proved my own ideas on the date of the painting’s creation.
2. The Seal
This precious sort of message (and why not “stamp of approval”) of the artwork’s former owners pointed me in the direction of the identity of the painter.
I asked my dear German-speaking friend to help me decode the inscription surrounding the double-headed eagle coat of arms which reminded me of the one of the Austro-Hungarian Empire.
“H. L. Neumann
Munchen
K: K: Hof Kunst Handlung”
The K:K: abbreviation [Kaiserlich und Königlich — Imperial and Royal] referred to the institutions of the “Austrian” part of Austria-Hungary from 1867 to 1918 which immediately proved the suggestion.
The initials above belonged to Heinrich Leopold Neumann (1844–1913) who was a reputable art dealer, and art collector with direct connections to the Austrian court.
Step #2. The Previous Owner
H. L. Neumann amassed a huge collection of paintings during his lifetime and used to organize perfectly cataloged exhibitions. And that’s what I focused on and where I searched for any trace of my painting of the “lady in a fur hat”, which might’ve been somehow related to portraits in Venetian costumes with Oriental motifs, as I thought.
First, a mention of a Venetian Girl painting by Eugene de Blaas (1843–1932) caught my attention in the scanned version of one of such catalogs that I found online.
Straightforward I googled his pictures and didn’t find any similarities with the style of the artist of my picture. Well, I’m not a huge fan of Blaas manner in any way, so I happily moved on.
And then I saw this:
“Noblewoman in old German costume.
Graceful girl’s head of particular tenderness and delicacy”
Well, well, well, this entry for the 1904 exhibition in Vienna looks perfectly close to what I bought and even the size is pretty the same! “Ölgemälde aux Holz” — oil painting on wood, no way! The medium, and support are matching too!
And here we go, the name — Anton Bertzik. The pressure is on, let’s google his art and see if it really has something to do with my picture in hand.
Step #3. Ta-dam!
The very first link with the artist’s name brought me to Christie’s to see that a very similar artwork by him was acquired for over $8,000 in 2016 (including buyer’s premium)!
I opened the Images folder at Google and saw a handful of other “female heads in fur hats” by him and was ultimately convinced that he was the true name behind my painting!
An Austrian Anton Bertzik (1850–1899) was indeed living in Munich in the last quarter of the century (I even managed to find his exact address in the book of 1898).
“He specialized in the portraits of women of Munich and London high society with the great finesse of execution in the renderings of fabrics, hair, and jewelry.”
Of course, Bertzik wasn’t a household name painter compared to some of his artist-contemporaries. Yet he made really quality portraits in a distinctive style that attracted him loyal clientele of the highest caliber in Germany and his native Austro-Hungarian Empire.
The painting is in excellent condition. I thoroughly examined it in the UV light which revealed no paint losses or damages to the surface, yet unmasked a fun detail that extra face paint was added to color the cheeks (someone thought she was too pale?). Not a big deal, it could be easily eliminated by a good restorer.
Bertzik usually signed the paintings in the dark lower corners which made it almost impossible to detect the actual inscription a century later. My black light lamp wasn’t strong enough to spot it either.
At the same time, the distinctive style and all the other pieces of evidence made this attribution a no-brainer.
Dear readers, I hope you got particularly encouraged to start your own detective hunt and feel that joy of finding the missing clues and making your own discoveries!
Don’t hesitate to contact me if you’d look for a second opinion or have questions or ideas on the painting featured in this story.
