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If you are interested in the business of the trade in art and antiques, Skate’s Market Research is nearly as handy as the pocket on a shirt. Although they do compile the statistics associated with blockbuster auction and private sales, they also provide stats on things less sexy but more germane to the everyday decisions a dealer must make, including whether or not to participate in art and antiques fairs.

With the bricks and mortar venues around the world in their death throes, the pop up venues that art and antiques fairs provide function as what would seem a logical, relatively low cost opportunity to get one’s gear in front of the buying public. With the show organizer and frequently a worthy benefit charity performing the ostensible heavy lifting of promoting the venue and purchasing opportunity, the dealer then only, it would seem, has to show up and sell to the raft of people massed at the front door waiting to make a longed for purchase.

What’s not apparent is the dealer’s cost associated with the fair. The rental of the booth, decorating the booth, lighting, electrical outlets, phone outlets, and many times, assessments for advertising in the show catalog and promoting the fair through local and national media. Oh, yes- and the cost of transport. For us, the least expensive transport bill is $15,000. On the whole, the least expensive fair we participate in costs us, before we sell anything, $52,000.

I suppose if one were guaranteed sales into the six or seven figures, the significant investment for what often functions as a pop up store that exists for no longer than a long weekend might seem paltry. But the fact is, fair attendance and at-show purchases have been on the wane. And this is where Skate’s becomes an invaluable tool- they report fair performance with a degree of accuracy that is, shall we say, somewhat illusory when one questions fair promoters. Mind you, fair promoters, whether those who operate for profit or those who are an arm of a not for profit worthy cause, seek to put the best face on their face to induce art and antiques dealers to participate. One would suppose with the numbers of dealers becoming thinner and thinner on the ground, the word about the relative performance of a fair would quickly make its way around. Our experience, though, is that dealers most generally have attended the same school of obfuscation as most fair promoters.  With this in mind, what we do, long after the fact, is assess the number of individual dealers returning to the same fair and assume that, if they are returning, it must constitute a successful venue. We track this over years and have determined some surprising facts. One of the more vaunted fairs that promotes itself as a major international venue has had a dealer turnover of nearly 130% in the last four years. Clearly, the dealers are judging the success of this fair with their feet.

Keith and I are just returned from a fair we felt might be a fit for us, but expensive so wanted to check it out thoroughly before we even put numbers together precedent to giving it serious consideration. Frankly, one could as they say have shot a cannon through the venue on the Saturday afternoon we visited. Skate’s recent report on the success of this fair, and ‘success’ is the word used by the fair organizer, indicated that attendance was in the mid five figures. However, divisible by the number of dealers exhibiting, the per booth attendance was in the- wait for it- low three figures.  We determined, based on our lowest estimated cost to participate, this resulted in a cost of $300 for each visitor to our booth. That is on a par with handing out a couple of bottles of Dom Perignon to each gallery visitor just for darkening our door. For those of you with a profound thirst, please don’t get the idea we are planning on doing either the fair or offering free champers any time soon.

It’s been a couple of weeks, and the figurative stirring up of the dust has settled back to sort of what it was before, so now is an appropriate time to briefly reflect on the life and death of my father, Jack Chappell. An accomplished man who did well in his sphere, he was well liked, and well regarded, which to my mind is not quite the same thing. In any event, at his memorial service, he pulled a very full church.

An educator, a farmer, and a sportsman, he pursued these endeavors with an equal passion that, when these interests competed as they did from time to time, overset him. As he was perforce the overarching presence and personality in our household, the rest of the family was as a consequence oftentimes overwhelmed, as well. Quick to anger, but just as quick to forget, life at home was never ever dull.

Dad had a great love of the outdoors, and particularly our section of the Sierra Nevada, with resultant annual late summer trips through the high country on horseback where we’d not see another soul for weeks at a time. Though at the time I would rather have been visiting the Palace of the Legion of Honor in San Francisco, now I realize this was an experience that cannot today be repeated, and am grateful for it.

A strong personality, with a son of strong personality, we frequently did not get along. With all that, we were as much alike as we were different, which was something my father understood without actually saying so, and as a consequence, kept his distance when he sensed that our personalities would collide. He loved family life, but hated discord, where for me, discord always seemed an inevitable part of life, and while not to be courted, need not be feared, either.

However, for the two of us, there were no go areas that functioned as not quite barriers, but hurdles. As Dad became very ill very quickly, overcoming these was much on my mind. But as I broached a couple of things that were heretofore verboten, my father was yet resistant and then it occurred to me- he was facing the prospect of eternity, and was very busy making up his own soul. What I sought to accomplish was the smallest of small potatoes in the cosmic scheme of things- and was mightily dwarfed by what my father faced. So the time was, as all wise people counsel, to let it go.

My father died on March 19, and while he’s left a void in my life, that void constitutes the largest element of my own grief. What both of us shared was a spirituality, albeit manifested differently in both of us, but I am nevertheless confident that he is now possessed of the wisdom of the ages, and that some of that wisdom he is yet able to communicate to me with some benefit. What for both of us were hurdles I considered were specific to our relationship I now know are part of life’s vicissitudes. While I don’t have the understanding of these that my father has achieved in his passing, I am optimistic that I will in the fullness of time, and realize that this is a gift my father has given me.

Just at the moment, the English trade is in an uproar over some on-air claims by TV presenters about the extent of fakery in the art and antiques world. Naturally, particularly those in leadership positions in the various accrediting associations have taken issue with those claims, and rightly so. A favored client of mine who happens to be a senior jurist once put it this way- ‘If you don’t know your jewels, know your jeweler.’ Of course, for the novice or occasional buyer, the best advice they can ever be given is to shop with members of the accredited trade.

Frankly, though, unaccredited dealers are the overarching presence in the trade, and nothing in the world prevents whoever has the fancy, and the bank book, from opening a shop, or more likely, establishing a website, for the marketing of whatever it is they want, and, as long as they can get away with it, making outlandish claims. But this presumes a nefarious intent, and while that doubtless includes a given percentage in any line of endeavor, often those in the trade operate out of ignorance, to the detriment of those who choose to purchase from them. I am reminded of a dealer fairly close to home who often sold things that were, as they say in the trade, composed of antique elements. This gentleman honestly thought that, if a given percentage of an item was old wood, no matter what subsequently had been done to dolly up the piece, there was nothing wrong with representing it as an antique. We had another experience with this same dealer, wherein he pointed to a darkly stained hall bench that was not old, telling me that, if I found something similar for a given price, he would buy it from me. I said that I would, but anything I represented to him would be period. ‘But that’s period!’ he exclaimed, pointing to the piece the like of which he wanted from me. I could tell from the look on his face and the tone of his voice that he honestly felt that the bench in his shop darkened with lamp black, shellacked and waxed and distressed with rappings from a length of chain was the real deal.

A few years ago, all of us remember the scandal associated with an internationally famous dealer now amongst the heavenly chorus whose stock in trade was to a great extent things that were made up- extremely well, as it happened, fooling a lot of people for a long, long time. Surprisingly, despite the beauty and vaunted attributions of these pieces, none of them seemed to have much in the way of provenance. Hmm…  I suppose this is an argument for caveat emptor, but I have to say that this same chap was a good friend to the design trade and his frequently generous discounts occluded the fact that what he had to sell was decidedly dodgy.

Unfortunately, the plethora of online trading that takes place that marks a revolution in retail that affects even the trade in art and antiques distances the good dealer from the good faith purchaser. What we’ve found, though, is the better online platforms now require more and more from participating dealers in terms of disclosure, and are less and less tolerant of those dealers who don’t deliver as advertised. Still and all, harking back to my friend the federal judge, nothing yet substitutes for, as he put it, knowing your jeweler.

Cribbed from Woody Allen’s ‘Midnight in Paris’, ‘cheap is cheap’ quotes the character Gil’s would be mother-in-law, an erstwhile interior designer, when Gil is taken aback by the multi thousand euro price for a pair of teak deck chairs at the Paris flea market. I was taken aback, too, at the ask price for something that, assuming they were actually period, should sell for maybe $500 each. But the point is made, that very often designer and collector haunts absolutely gouge their punters- whether locals or auslanders. That said, this propensity for gouging that seemed so long established a feature of dealers in the favorite venues has become something of an anachronism by the time Woody made the film in 2011. Still, the point is well made- some people will pay an inordinate price to be able to say that an item was purchased at the Paris flea market, or in the Cotswolds, or on the Via del Babuino. Not too many anymore, though, as the Cotswold dealers have become as scarce as hen’s teeth, and the Paris fleas sell items that so betoken a flea market that that becomes the overarching feature, decidedly detracting from what was formerly a good talking point.

Certainly the internet has become the great equalizer, with punters able to with very little effort see what an item should really sell for and as my few loyal blogophiles will have noted in my last blog, the panoply of items ostensibly similar has brought the asking price of everything down.

And down in every respect, including quality. In this regard, I think about a mass market retailer whose stores, website and catalogs have proliferated mightily in the last couple of years, with a fair old amount of their material offered as period in style. With a vaguely distressed look and soft furnishings covered in off-white linen and secured with darkened upholstery tacks, one might, if one’s vision were bad, think they were in fact making a purchase of a flea market item, distressed in finish as one would expect furnishings would achieve in the fullness of time. Not so long ago, we received one of their catalogs, which was, I was surprised to find, about as thick as the Manhattan white pages. Although artfully produced, what caught my eye immediately were the (cheap) prices for literally everything and, given the production quality of the catalog, those prices seemed to represent extraordinary value. I saw, for instance, a period appearing chair at a price fractionally the price of what we could produce a similar chair in our own workshop, which we need to do from time to time when a customer requires us to augment, say a set of 8 dining chairs when they may require a set of 12. In looking at referenced catalog, I thought, well, perhaps chairs from this catalog merchant might serve us as blanks.

That was my thought, until I had the opportunity to inspect chairs, and indeed all the merchandise, at the retail outlet, which, consonant with the catalog, was artfully arranged. The merchandise, though, was, to use a technical term, complete crap. Poor quality timber, poorly finished, and the joinery so badly done that we’d be unable to use anything even as a blank. Clearly, not quality, but temptingly cheap and appealing to those, and they are legion, who haven’t seen quality and are consequently hooked by ‘looks like but isn’t’ and reeled in by price. Well, as has been said before, cheap is cheap…

We’re back from Houston and the 60^th outing of the Theta Charity Antiques Show, and with profoundly mixed feelings. Glad to be home, of course, but sad to leave the hospitality and accommodation the Theta ladies, and indeed all our Houston based clients extended to us during our stay.

For those of you venal enough to inquire about our at-show sales, let me assure you we brought home significantly less than we took to the show. But, frankly, that misses the point of this blog entry which is, basically, that the only show we’ve done for a long time that consistently understands the symbiotic relationship between benefit charity and show dealer is the Theta show. While of course the Theta ladies understand that for them, the show intends to be a money spinner for the support of their numerous charities, they never, ever seek to move more significantly into the black on the backs of participating dealers. They understand that, if the show is too expensive to participate in, their stock of dealers will wane, and that, if dealers do not do well with at show sales, likewise the dealers will stay away.

Consequently, the Theta ladies make every effort to promote the show and as much as possible accommodate the dealers. During the run of the show, Keith and I saw no fewer than 10 Theta show commercials on TV, and were aware of at least 3 features on the show on Houston morning TV. At least two feature articles on the show were in the Houston Chronicle, one of which, I modestly mention, featured a piece from Chappell & McCullar.

All in all, I’d have to give the Theta Charity Antiques Show the thumbiest of thumbs up for effort and hospitality. And the Theta ladies individually are about as nice as nice could be. We have never been as well fed and watered as at the Theta show, with the dealer hospitality area at the back replete with all manner of edible goodies. And the ladies are always there- from the first to the last, to make sure that everything goes well. Kudos of the highest order.

Moreover, we have to say that Houstonians generally are a hospitable and a loyal lot. Although not all our Houston clients made purchases from us at the show, virtually every one of them stopped by to say hello and browse. Will this lead to after show sales? I would venture to say so. As well, we did not lack for dinner invitations during the run of the show- our Thanksgiving started early. (Read- belts will be worn larger this winter.)

The talent at the show was thoroughgoing, extending through dealer colleagues Gary Sergeant and Lori and Mark Finke of Jayne Thompson Antiques and also speakers including Leigh Keno and Lady Henrietta Spencer-Churchill. Leigh and Lady Henrietta were ably shepherded by our good friends and ASID award winning designers Sarah Eilers and Sandy Lucas.

My goodness, I’ve nearly run out of superlatives. What more can I say, but do what all the best people are doing and mark your calendars for next years’ outing of the show.