Well, that was a new experience.
Sarah and I had been along to De Zwaan, a Dutch auction house on the Keizersgracht, earlier this week, after our friends Felix and Bonnie suggested that we might find some things there that we liked. They were right.
The place was packed with good stuff, including a number of lovely paintings, a light or two that we fancied, grandfather clocks, bureaus, etc. The paintings, in particular, appealed to me, especially a really lovely painting of the Bloemenmarkt, Amsterdam’s flower market along the Singel.
The lots are divided into different categories, each of which is being auctioned in its own sitting over the next two weeks. Tonight was the turn of the paintings and etchings.
I wasn’t going to go, really. It was snowing hard and besides, art doesn’t really do anything. It goes against the grain for me to consider spending a large sum of money on something that just sits or hangs there, fulfilling no practical function. I’m a practical and functional kind of bloke. I like to pay money for things that do something, that have a clearly defined purpose that they can be judged to have fulfilled or failed to fulfill. But a painting just hangs there. How do you measure whether you’re getting your money’s worth out of it, even if you like it a lot?
Anyway, I biked over to the auction house while Sarah was putting Eloïse to bed. I was the last person to arrive and there were only a few lots left to auction. I had to scout around to find someone to register me with a bidder number.
Once upstairs, I took a seat and proceeded to soak up the atmosphere of the place. It’s this lovely old building with nice old chandeliers and all eyes were focused on the auctioneer. It was just like in the films, really, with a few people stood at the front on the telephone, taking bids from anonymous bidders. Each painting was placed in turn on an easel for convenient viewing.
The atmosphere was sedate, but nevertheless very exciting. This was not your detached, anonymous, remote eBay experience, but a packed public auction room where you look eye in eye with the person you’re bidding against.
By the time the lot I was interested in came up, I had more or less decided to just watch and learn, but when I saw the painting elevated onto the easel, I fell for it once again. Throwing caution to the wind, I decided to put in my first live bid. And just like a player in one of those films, I flicked my wrist and marginally elevated by bidder number card each time the auctioneer’s gaze returned to me.
Anyway, to cut a long story somewhat short, a little bit of a bidding war ensued. One lady clearly wanted this painting as much as I did, but determination (or was it foolhardiness?) won the day. I ended up paying considerably more than the guide price, but that seemed to be the nature of the evening, with many lots enjoying a similar fate.
Still, the important thing is that I got the painting I wanted. I paid at the office on the way out and enquired when I could come back and pick it up. It’s going to look really great in the house when we figure out where to hang it.
Well, I’ve never taken part in a real live auction before; nor have I ever bought a piece of fine art. Me, the owner of an old oil-painting. Who’d have thought?
I could definitely develop a taste for this. It’s easy to see how one could become addicted to hanging out at auction houses and trying to snap up literally unique items, especially when one is trying to furnish a new home and give it character.
