New Degas Sculptures: Real or Fakes?

The Little Fourteen-Year-Old Dancer

This sculpture is actually a 1922 cast done from a mixed-media sculpture by Degas modeled around 1879–80. It is bronze, but-unusually for the time-included a real bodice, skirt and hair ribbon. This unorthodox use of materials and the realistic manner of sculpting the dance student led to a divided opinion of Degas’s work at the time. He was not then known as a sculptor; indeed, he sculpted much as some artists sketch, in order to work out compositional problems rather than create a final artwork.

Degas died in 1917. This cast was made 1922. More than 150 pieces of sculpture were found in his studio, and used in limited series of 20 pieces produced by the Paris foundry of Adrien Hébrard. Given this timeline (more here), it is remarkable that “a complete set of 74 plaster sculptures of dancers, bathers and horses attributed to Edgar Degas” have recently been discovered amounting to what The Times refers to as “either one of the most extraordinary art finds of the past 100 years or one of the most exquisite frauds to be attempted.”


You know I love a good art fraud, but this one slipped under my radar, so how pleased was I when the article’s author Zoe Blackler emailed me about it yesterday? You can read her story here. The plaster casts pictured above were made, supposedly, during Degas’s life from wax models that were found in his apartment at his death. Of course, bronze statues cast from these plaster ones would be worth a huge amount of money, assuming they are genuine. (A separate argument would ask if something cast to replicate a Degas is quite the same as if Degas were alive and part of the process of creation.)

Which is the crux of the thing. The story goes that these plasters were made for a friend and forgotten about, eventually ending up in the storage at the Valsuani Foundry in 1955. Odd for them to end up there, and be discovered now. I vote fakes. But then having read Loot and all about Vermeer forgeries, of course I am suspicious. What do you think?

Ducks in A Row

Excuse the saccharine image, but I have good reason to be chuffed and post image of baby ducks in rows. In my long hiatus from posting I have

  • sublet my apartment
  • quit my job
  • bought a plane ticket to Saint Maarten
  • all the while enduring horrible travel ordeals to spend Thanksgiving with my boyfriend’s family, only to rush home yesterday and spend it packing up all our personal possessions, in order to put them in storage before the subletters move in tommorow morning

It’s all worked out so well so quickly I’ve hardly thought anything through. That’s not exactly true, of course; I had been trying to move to the Caribbean for the winter ever since my boyfriend’s was approved to work remotely. But nothing was working out until last Tuesday morning, and now suddenly I have a whole new adventure ahead of me.


We’ll be there until March. I’m going to focus on my writing. I plan to finish my novel and start sending out query letters. I also am going to do some travel blogging, and hopefully scour up some other freelance opportunities. It’s a pretty amazing opportunity, even aside from the beaches and sun. That’s kind of like the icing on the cake.

I feel very, very lucky.

Something Weird This Way Comes

Ah, love that title. It’s from my new article on the Tim Burton at MoMA exhibition up on Blogcritics. To wit:

It certainly must feel strange for an isolated kid from the suburbs of California to have hundreds of his drawings and objects ensconced in an exhibition at the Museum of Modern Art in New York. No less so because he is known for his films rather than his drawings. Yet if the opening crowds are anything to judge by, most museum-goers are nothing but thrilled to see this exhaustive exhibition of 700+ works related to Tim Burton’s career. The crowds are right, for the same aesthetic binds Burton’s early work to his later films.

Face the crowds you must, if you want to wander through the strange byproducts of Burton’s imaginative mind. MoMA created a great entrance: through the mouth of a monster you enter a black and white striped hall lined with TVs playing a series of Stainboy animations. Then you enter a dark room where a carousel turns to creepy carnival music and glow-in-the-dark paintings on black velvet stare out at you. Next you enter the well-lit, white-walled galleries of MoMA – but even here things don’t return to normalcy. The walls are filled with hundreds of sketches of monsters and people on everything from canvas to cocktail napkins.

Rest here.

And a happy weird Tuesday to you all.

h