Let her go

Picture: The Art Fund

The Art Fund has launched an appeal to buy this picture for £16 million for the National Maritime Museum. It might be the prime version of a famous picture of a famous queen, but there are two others. One is at the National Portrait Gallery, which is just seven miles from the National Maritime Museum. Its importance is 'iconic', as The Art Fund press release says, rather than artistic. And we already have this icon in London. It's too much money for a picture that's essentially a duplicate, and of meager artistic quality.

The sellers have timed the offer well. The old master market is in the doldrums, but early English portraits are selling astonishingly well. Them seem merely clumsy to me, but their mix of 'merrie England' naivety and Tudor bling appeals to some of today's rich. I don't blame the sellers for timing the market. But Britain's public collections tend to mistime acquisitions perfectly, competing with the mega-rich for the most expensive pictures of the day and ignoring unfashionable bargains. The Art Fund has always known that this picture was in a British private collection. But they never seem to think strategically; did they try to buy it previously? And which unfashionable pictures are they trying to buy cheaply today?

And is this really a £16m picture? Portraits of Henry VIII from Holbein's workshop recently sold for £821k and £965k. They're not prime versions, but they're artistically better than the Armada Portrait, and equally iconic. I can accept that the likely prime version of the Armada Portrait is more valuable than studio replicas of Holbein's Henry VIII, but twenty times more seems a stretch. That money could buy a Titian or Rembrandt. For less than half the price (£7.3m) we could have had the fantastic Le Brun portrait bought by the Met, which is a great picture from a school poorly represented in UK collections. With the change we could have bought portraits by Scipione Pulzone, Ludovico Carraci and Girolamo da Carpi. Or for £14m we could have bought a great Poussin, an incomparably better picture. None of these are big names, and they're not especially fashionable. But we should be buying pictures based on quality and importance rather than choosing pictures that lend themselves most easily to publicity campaigns. Art collecting is being driven by public relations, which generally means pictures with some patriotic story behind them, because The Art Fund's PR department only has that one script.

If private donors think the Armada Portrait is good value, and really want to keep this picture in Britain, I won't stand in their way. I'll even agree that it would be a nice acquisition for the National Maritime Museum. But it's not just private donors. The Art Fund is largely subsidised by the taxpayer, in that its members receive free or reduced admission to publicly funded museums and exhibitions. That's a large part of why most people join, and that money funneled to The Art Fund comes straight out of the pockets of public museums. It's effectively a way of moving money from general expenditure to acquisition spending, but at immense bureaucratic cost. And The Art Fund seems especially unskilled at identifying the best things to buy.

There's another big subsidy in that £6m in tax will be remitted. I'm delighted by a £6m subsidy for the arts. But this is an arbitrary £6m subsidy, available only to specific works that are already in the UK. Effectively the government is paying full face value for a gift token that can be used only for one work of art, instead of just giving the money directly so that museums can choose the pictures they want.

The Art Fund has recently called for a review of the system of export licenses. I call for the whole rotten process to be abolished. If a foreign buyer is willing to pay £16m for this, let them have it. And let our museums compete to buy pictures from abroad, rather than having to go after the latest picture that The Art Funds wants to 'save'.

Who will review the reviewers? Thoughts on Giorgione

In the Age of Giorgione Royal Academy London to 5 June

The word 'Age' is a warning sign in exhibition titles. It means 'we couldn't borrow the things we wanted, so we've blurred the edges a bit'. Blurring boundaries can be interesting and context is good, but it feels like they just gave up on this show when they couldn't get the big loans. They've stretched poor Giorgione to breaking point with mad attributions. The catalogue lacks conviction, just listing the views of other art historians next to the appalling grainy reproductions. And the display is filled out with a jumble of mostly early sixteenth century Venetian pictures of often questionable relevance.

It makes me yearn for Brian Sewell, who would have skewered it. 

Instead we have Laura Cumming in the Observer describing it as "something close to a miracle", and claiming that it includes a dozen Giorgiones. Two separate reviews in the Telegraph by Louisa Buck and Mark Hudson claim it includes seven out of 'ten or so' authentic Giorgiones. The New York Times's former art correspondent got in trouble for plagiarising Wikipedia. These critics don't even google. The FT is maddest of the lot, illustrating its review with one of the most implausible Giorgiones, claiming that the old dullard Cariani is the star of the show and describing the most mendacious curation as 'honest'. Even the smart reviewers have been too polite. A splendid, smart piece by Charles Hope casts a sceptical eye on the definition of this most enigmatic artist. Hope's essay is subtle; he isn't criticising connoisseurship, but implying preference for caution in face of uncertainty. I favour his epistemic stance, but he failed to give the show the kicking it so richly deserves.

Before I kick, I must urge you to see this show. There are some exceptional pictures here, and it does provide some valuable comparisons. It's worth travelling a long way just to see the Terris Portrait, top, which is one of the only secure Giorgiones on display. I've seen it at its home in San Diego, but it looks much better here, flanked by two Dürer portraits painted in Venice at the same time. It's a fantastic painting that's hard to appreciate in reproductions, with a monumental presence far disproportionate to its size. Confronting this picture in the first room really shows why Giorgione was so highly esteemed. 

I saw the Glasgow Christ and the Adulteress as more Titian-like than I'd previously appreciated; the current consensus for Titian now seems right to me. The wispy adulteress falling into the picture from the right looks especially Giorgionesque. But the dynamism, the gestures and the integration of figures is all Titian. It's worn and cut down, and even harder to appreciate on a tiny scale, but the composition is remarkably sophisticated. The catalogue describes it simply as diagonal, but it's more complex than that. There's nothing like it in Giorgione, who was more about mood than drama.

Another picture that I reassessed was the Cornbury Park Altarpiece by Bellini, which was one of my favourite pictures in my home town museum. Seeing it in a different context helped me appreciate better its weaknesses, and I absolutely disagree with the catalogue's assertion that, "the quality of the painting is so high that the contribution of the workshop, should it exist, is almost impossible to detect". On the contrary, different styles are readily recongnisable. The saints' heads are exceptionally Dürer-esque, the donor Memling-like and the Madonna and Child very typical of Bellini's workshop, and not of the highest quality. 

I like two Sebastianos that I'd never seen before, Birth of Adonis and Death of Adonis from La Spezia. The technique is unusual; they seem to have been painted quickly and broadly, which in this case seems not to be the result of bad restoration. The catalogue speculates that they may have been cassone panels, but they seem intended to be seen from below. Perhaps they once formed part of a frieze, hung high where that marvelous sky would have looked magnificent, but finely painted detail would be invisible. 

Consideration of condition must be at the heart of this show, and it's central to forming a view of Giorgione. A lot of the pictures are severely abraded, and some seem much repainted. Only a handful appear well-preserved, including a wonderful Lorenzo Lotto from the Louvre and a Virgin and Child with St Catherine and Saint John the Baptist only 'attributed' to Sebastiano del Piombo, but which seems quite right to me. The Venetian use of thin glazes renders them vulnerable to harsh cleaning, and maybe the soft contours appeared dirty to some early owners. But I wonder if there isn't also a selection bias here. The more badly they are scrubbed, the more they look like they might once have been by Giorgione. Some of these ghostly relics are now impossible to assess.

The connoisseurial potential of the show—trying to discern Giorgione's hand from others who painted in his style—is undermined by the sheer raving lunacy of the attributions. Giorgione is a controversial artist, and many pictures have been attributed to him over the years. But there are controversial pictures, and there are outright impossibilities. I'm not even convinced that all the pictures 'attributed to Giorgione' here are even Venetian, or of the right period. Two stood out as especially outrageous. 

A picture tentatively identified as David Between Saul and Jonathan is singled out for criticism in Charles Hope's essay. The attribution was originally made in a certificate bought and paid for by a previous owner. The modern equivalent of the 'certificate of authenticity' is the exhibition catalogue. It won't shift the view that this isn't by Giorgione, but inclusion at the RA lends it undeserved legitimacy. Maybe some one will buy it because they think it might be right, like the silly new 'Leonardos' that turn up from time to time, sometimes selling for high prices. It's evidently not Giorgione, and the prevarication of the catalogue entry makes it clear the curators don't think so either.

The second shocking misattribution is the Virgin and Child in a Landscape from the Hermitage, which is one of the only pictures given fully to Giorgione. It isn't. And I don't believe the curators think it is, either. It seems to have been substantially repainted at a later date, but there is nothing here to indicate it was ever by Giorgione. The Hermitage insisted that their Madonna Litta was given in full to Leonardo in the recent London exhibition, although few believe it is. I suspect this was another stipulation by the dogmatic anti-intellectuals there. But why on earth did the RA agree? The picture is trivial, and unnecessary to the show. The Hermitage gains, because they can cite another source seeming to endorse another of their extravagant claims. But the RA just looks meek and corrupt.

It's not the only picture whose inclusion in the show is perplexing. Cariani is a very different artist from Giorgione, and a rather repetitive painter. Yet there are six of them here. And some of the Sebastianos and Titians were oddly selected, some brought across continents when there are better examples five minutes down the road at the National Gallery. 

This is an obviously problematic show. I don't know the politics of the RA, but it seemed they themselves don't really believe in it. They have skimped on the catalogue, eschewed all commentary on the wall labels and avoided expression of opinion. I don't know where responsibility lies, whether with the powers-that-be at the RA or the curators who arranged this exhibition. But having seen the show, I am quite certain which critics deserve censure. 

 

Why the old master market really is dead

The lackluster totals from the recent old master auctions in London prompted more observations about the parlous state of the old master market. I liked Scott Reyburn's account in the New York Times, but Bendor Grosvenor has issued a firm critique with useful data. But I'm still with Reyburn, and I think Bendor's evidence reinforces Reyburn's conclusion, if we put it in context.

The important question is what you're comparing against. The value of money itself changes, so you have to adjust for inflation. But over time economies tend to grow, so any sector simply keeping up with inflation isn't doing so well. Sectors wax and wane, of course. But if the auto industry is booming and Ford's sales are increasing in double digits, it's not enough for General Motors to say they're doing great because their sales are in line with the overall economy. Bendor's charts show old masters just about keeping up with inflation at a time when the potential market is booming because there are far more very rich people in the world, with far more disposable income. It's just that they're spending that income on modern and contemporary art, which is booming. That can't be explained away as a speculative bubble, because it's supported by strong market demand that's boosting all kinds of luxury products—except old master paintings.

It's not just that there are more rich people. Wealth increased significantly in the post-war boom, but there was a big lag before the art market took off. One reason for that is relatively high tax rates and relatively high returns to labour rather than capital. But that didn't change until the subsequent growth of the art market was already well underway. I think the other aspect is that returns on investment were strong as the economy recovered after the war. There was high demand for capital, and good long-term returns. Today that's not so true; returns on all asset classes are muted and  growth is sluggish. So it makes sense for the elite to divert resources towards consumption—which, again, is exactly what we've seen in the luxury good industry, and in every sector of the art market except old master paintings. Old masters really are the anomaly.

Historically the old master market performed much as you might expect based on the changing fortunes of the very rich. In the early twentieth century they were booming, as American millionaires entered the market for the first time. After the depression prices fell sharply. There have been plenty of strong trends, even if they even out over the very long term. Incidentally, even in the boom years of the early twentieth century dealers complained about the difficulty of obtaining good mark-ups on pictures bought at auction; Duveen liked to buy collections en bloc to avoid the anchor of publicised prices, and Wildenstein kept things in stock for decades before resale. Agnew used to sell stock bought at auction on very thin margins in the nineteenth century. And there are still plenty of dealers buying at auction and then selling retail in Mayfair or at Maastricht. I think the bigger story is that old master dealers are being squeezed in a declining market, not that their old business model has suddenly failed.

Finally, we can look more anecdotally at the market itself. Some parts do better than others; prices for Dutch pictures and Brueghels seem to have softened recently. Elizabethan portraits are doing better. French eighteenth century pictures are especially out of favour. But the overall impression is that really good mid-range pictures are selling consistently poorly if you think in terms of their relation to house prices, or to the incomes of the relatively affluent (top professionals and business leaders). Today a month's income for a barrister, or partner in a big accounting or consulting firm would buy a picture that would grace a museum. And there are more people earning those salaries than ever before. It's just that they're buying contemporary art.

A coda on data
Because each old master painting is unique, there's no reliable indicator equivalent to, say, the price of gold. Even the same picture re-sold may come with a different attribution, or following restoration that may have helped or hurt its value. Sales volume in the overall market is hard to find, because of coding and categorisation issues. The top auction houses re-position themselves from time to time, going into the mid-market and then pulling back. Supply is only slightly elastic. The 'three Ds' (death, divorce, death) produce a reliable stream of consignments from forced sellers, but rising prices don't automatically secure big increases in supply. But rising prices do tempt treasures into the market, so there's a degree of pro-cyclicality in raw sales data, as well as volatility because the market is so thin.

Bendor's data show sales increasing slightly above inflation, which in the context I've described is frankly dreadful. Sotheby's closed its Olympia saleroom and Phillips withdrew entirely from the old master market in that period. The data are difficult to obtain, because old master picture sales sometimes include drawings and sculptures (including a £29.7m Raphael), and old masters are sometimes sold in other sales (such as mixed single owner sales). The trend line is influenced by start date; I calculate Sotheby's results from 2002 to have been £153m, inflation-adjusted, which may have given a different slant to the trend. But the only element I really object to is comparing performance with the FTSE without reinvesting dividends, which is meaningless (do we assume the dividends were just eaten?). I don't think art should be treated as an investment class, for the reasons Bendor himself sets out. And for what it's worth, I don't think it's right to call the contemporary market a 'speculative bubble', though economic shifts could easily see significant price falls.

Artprice has an alternative index showing old master prices declining, but their index shows far more volatility than I perceive in the actual market, so take their data with a pinch of salt.

Old Master Results

Picture: Sotheby's

London's auctioneers put on a fine show last week: plenty of good pictures with mostly quite reasonable estimates. But results were disappointing. High levels unsold (about half the Christie's evening auction), and no really spectacular prices. There seemed to be less trade buying than usual, and dealers declining to add to their stock is a bad sign. The day sales did a little better, but prices are still astoundingly low compared to contemporary art, and unprecedented relative to the immense resources of the wealthy global elite. The large number of unsold pictures indicates that prices are 'sticky downwards', as economists say: sellers are reluctant to crystallise losses relative to their expectations, so they decline to sell. It implies market weakness, but the inherent volatility of the art market makes the signal hard to read. We must also be cautious of drawing conclusions too hastily from a small sample of lots sold in a single week, although it really only confirms long-standing trends.

The high-end market is sewn up by Christie's and Sotheby's, and usually reported as a messianic struggle between them. But reporters are measuring the wrong thing when they compare value of sales, a metric chosen because it's easily available and easily understood rather than because it's actually important or meaningful. If you're selling pictures, you want to know which auctioneer will get the higher price, and it's not clear to me that either has a clear edge. Knowing how much they've sold for other people doesn't answer that question. If you're a shareholder, you want to know about risk-adjusted return. Sale volume doesn't help that analysis: you need to know the commission charged and guarantees granted. And mere observers like me would be happy if either of them could just make navigating their websites easier than bitcoin mining.

On the face of it Christie's sale was a disaster. But it really comes down to a handful of pictures. Their top lot, Hoffmann's Hare didn't sell, despite being one of the best things offered in London in recent years. Maybe private equity magnates think hanging a fluffy bunny on their wall would convey the wrong message. When I first saw it I thought the estimate would be £3m-£5m, but it was actually pitched at a slightly more aggressive £4m-£6m. Given its appeal, I didn't think that unreasonable, and it was quite plausible that a couple of interested collectors could have pushed it well beyond that. A small Claude drawing sold recently for just shy of the Hoffmann low estimate, after all. Sotheby's top lot, a Constable that didn't inspire me, sold to a single bidder at its reserve. If that buyer had gone for the Hoffmann at Christie's, it would have looked very different.

We don't know the economics of either auction, particularly how much commission they earned (assume negative seller's commission). The other expensive lot at Christie's was withdrawn; surprisingly, it was consigned by Christie's itself, having taken ownership when it failed to meet its guaranteed price a few years ago. It was sold privately, I'm told above its high estimate. That would also have boosted their total significantly. It ought also to boost profits too, as it would have been taken to inventory at the lower of estimated realisable value and purchase price. I'd say a prudent accounting treatment would be to discount by at least 20%, causing a big loss then but a decent profit now.

A few other observations:

• Vive la France! The Louvre made a great purchase of the Master of the Dreux Budé Triptych's Arrest of Christ for £965k (pictured above). It's a good and unusual picture that would complement any of the great collections of northern renaissance painting. Well done them for getting it directly from auction. Another fine French museum acquisition was Cabanal's Portrait of an Artist from the Winter Collection sale, for just £6,250. There are plenty of opportunities for good but cheap pictures that museums could be buying, but it's rare for them to do so. Do watch La Tribune de l'Art for the most thorough coverage of museum acquisitions, including the Cabanal.
• Things I got right: of the pictures I thought looked cheap, the Moillon doubled estimate, Flinck, Mignon, Bachiacca and Testa all exceeded estimate (even before premium). Two early Italian pictures I thought seemed cheap sold for approximately double and triple their respective estimates.  
• The pictures I thought expensive mostly did poorly, which wasn't my expectation. The Constable scraped its reserve with one bid, view pictures and the Bosschaert still life did poorly, and the Henry VIII sold below low estimate. Tudor portraits have been madly expensive recently; historically interesting, but artistically dull. 
• Things I got wrong: the Cariani was a bargain at its low estimate (£100k, £125k with premium), though dark pictures of Christ with the Cross are not the most 'commercial'. Baciccio made its high estimate (£35k with premium), but I still say it was cheap at that price. Mr Market didn't share my fondness for the early Cologne picture that made just £50k. I was surprised the Verspronck didn't sell; I thought it might exceed the estimate. His portraits are not rare, but this was a good one (though not in perfect condition). The Standard Bearer by Verspronck made $1.5m in 1998, and is now in the National Gallery, Washington. This one wasn't nearly as spectacularly swashbuckling, but similar order of quality.
• So I was more right than wrong. I'm a genius, right? Well, alas no. Estimates aren't really predictions. Some pictures are estimated low to encourage interest (and tease us). Some are estimated 'robustly' to signal their importance (e.g. Hoffmann). And others are estimated high because the seller has demanded a high reserve. The auction house has marginal costs that aren't fully recovered from cataloguing fees, and they don't want too many unsold lots. But against that, they want to ensure their sales have a reasonable balance and low marginal costs make it worthwhile to take a punt if there's even a small chance of selling. There might also be opportunities for commission from private sale after the auction, and including some lots with high reserves might facilitate other consignments from the same seller. Sometimes unsold lots are no surprise to anyone, even the auctioneers. But that doesn't mean they're acting irrationally. 

Old Master Auctions

Picture: Christie's

It's the week of the winter old master sales in London, and Sotheby's and Christie's have some great pictures for sale just in time for Christmas.

Best of all is surely this wonderful hare, at once stunningly beautiful, marvelously endearing, and art historically important. It's painted on vellum by Hans Hoffmann, who was clearly inspired by Dürer, but working a generation after his death. It's bigger than you'd imagine, combining a meticulous miniature technique with impactful presence at a distance. It's being sold at Christie's on Tuesday with an estimate of £4m-£6m. It's a prudent estimate, but given its potential appeal outside traditional old master collectors, and the tendency for some old master drawing collectors to pay enormous prices for the very best works, it could conceivably soar above that. You can zoom in on the detail on Christie's website. 

The Hoffmann is the top lot at Christie's, but many of my favourite pictures weren't actually the most expensive. A newly-discovered bouquet of flowers by Abraham Mignon at Sotheby's estimated at £200k-£300k is beautifully preserved and ranks as one of the finest Dutch flower pictures I've seen at auction, but he is less appreciated than Bosschaert or Huysum, and Mr Art Market can remember only so many names at one time. 

Some pictures sell cheaply because the market just doesn't appreciate them. Others seem just to have particularly conservative estimates. Here are some things that look cheap to me: 

Picture: Christie's

Louise Moillon is a wonderful still life artist, absent from many major museums. Christie's has this lovely still life of apricots estimated at £70k - £100k. Its panel is badly warped, and there are paint losses along the cracks. But fundamentally it looks in rather good condition, and hasn't suffered the overcleaning endemic to seventeenth century still life. It needs careful restoration, but a bargain at that price.

Picture: Sotheby's

This Cariani Christ Carrying the Cross is a new discovery, and is unusually good for the artist. The estimate is just £70k-£100k at Sotheby's; it made a powerful impression at the viewing, and I suspect it will sell rather higher. It's a really moving image that wouldn't look out of place in a major museum, but it's perhaps not the most 'commercial' subject. 

Picture: Sotheby's

A more immediately attractive Italian picture, also at Sotheby's, is this wonderful Bachiacca, which is also notably well-preserved. Its estimate of £150k-£200k is rather than than the inflation-adjusted £16k that Agnew's paid for it in 1965 (around £277k today). Do zoom in on the Sotheby's website to get a better view of the details. Second-tier Italian artists like Bachiacca seem really undervalued to me, especially compared to Dutch pictures. 

Picture: Christie's

Christie's has this Christ in Glory by Il Baciccio estimated at just £20k-£30k. Justice demands ten times as much; it looked spectacular at the viewing, though harder to appreciate in reproduction. 

Among the array of gold-ground pictures, it was two cheaper panels that particularly appealed to me. Sotheby's has Cola di Petruccioli da Orvieto's Madonna and Child Enthroned estimated at £60k-£80k and Giovanni da Modena's St Sebastian (£15k-£20k). 

Picture: Sotheby's

I greatly liked this anonymous Adoration of the Magi from Cologne, c.1450. This kind of picture rarely appears on the market, and it's high-quality despite its anonymity. Good value at its £50k-£80k estimate, at Sotheby's. Unusually it has been restituted twice. It was confiscated from a member of the Thyssen family, and returned after World War II. But now it's been returned to the heir of the owner before Thyssen, who presumably sold under duress. It's the sort of picture that regional British museums should pursue, instead of buying more overpriced Constables and Gainsboroughs. 

Among the Dutch pictures, this powerful portrait by Verspronck really stands out. He was a variable artist, but this is a particularly good example, despite some wear. The estimate of £100k-£200k is in line with his more pedestrian work; this deserves to sell for more. The other striking Dutch picture is a Govaert Flinck Tronie of a Young Woman, estimated at £200k-£300k. The market for Dutch pictures has been moderating recently, after years of strength, but this fine and immediately attractive picture is the sort of thing that might sell very highly. Both are at Sotheby's. 

Picture: Christie's

Jan Wijnants isn't a particularly exciting artist, a Dutch landscapist less inventive and less brilliant than the bigger names. But Christie's has a delightful one on a very small scale at just £7k-£10k. Looking beyond the name you can find some exceptionally good value pictures in the day sales. Dutch flower still lifes are highly valued, but collectors tend to pursue the biggest names. Bosschaert is especially prized, and Christie's has one estimated at £600k-£800k. Estimate is reasonable and in line with comparable pictures, but it's no bargain at that level. More interesting to me is the picture hanging opposite at the viewing: a rare flower piece by Jacques de Gheyn II estimated at £100k-£150k (above). 

Picture: Sotheby's

For some things to seem relatively cheap, others must be expensive. Sotheby's top lot is a big Contstable estimated at £8m-£12m. I'm not a great fan of Constable, and that price can buy you many better pictures. Buy the wonderful Mabuse instead, which I neglected to mention only because its worth is already reflected in the £4m-£6m estimate (pictured above). The market for Brueghel and Cranach has moderated, but second-rate pictures still attract high estimates. I have a suspicion that the Holbein school Portrait of Henry VIII at Sotheby's will sell for more that its estimated £800k-£1.2m, but despite being a relatively good studio work it still seems too much to me. Iconic image of Britain's favourite psychopath, but not an inspiring picture. And view scenes always seem absurdly expensive to me: pretty and decorative, but rarely really good. Christie's has a really superior Guardi, but still doesn't seem worth £1.5m-£2.5m to me (though people with actual money will disagree, and it's their votes that count!). 

Picture: Christie's

Poussin is one of my very favourite artists, but to my surprise his Holy Family with the Infant St John the Baptist was one of my least favourite picture at Christie's. It's an early work, before he developed the austere classical style that's his hallmark. And it's not in great condition; selective cleaning has altered contrasts, and tonal variation has been lost. Not worth £400k-£600k, in my view; better off with the big Pietro Testa Aeneas and the Cumaean Sibyl presenting the Golden Bough to Charon, the next lot in the Christie's sale, estimated at £300k-£500k. It's over two meters wide, but a really fine picture (above). 

The viewings are always a revelation, a display of privately owned pictures that you wouldn't otherwise get to see. It surprises me that more people don't attend; they are free and open to everyone, but it seems to be a preponderance of dealers and collectors rather than art historians or the merely curious.

They've typically been less well-studied than museum pictures, and I welcome the chance to form a view relatively unclouded by the dense heritage of scholarly opinions expressed on museums' pictures. It's also a way to develop a feel for condition, which is less apparent in museums that restore to a common standard. In the auction rooms you can see pictures in a range of states: battered and broken, overcleaned, repainted, cracked or torn, but sometimes marvelously pristine beneath dirty varnish. This season's sales had a lot of things especially to my taste, and there are many more wonderful pictures. Do have a look at the catalogues for the Master of St Ursula, Ambrosius Benson, a fascinating picture from the workshop of Joos van Cleve that was updated in a more modern style, a newly discovered (sadly worn) Spranger, a wild mannerist picture by Mirabello Cavallori, the Master of the Dreux Budé Triptych (possibly the earliest noctural panel painting), Ligozzi, Gandolfi and excellent pictures by Herri met de Bles and Hans Rottenhammer.

'Saving' treasures

Art Fund director Stephen Deuchar has written an intemperate article about Britain's export controls, in the context of the sale of the Penrhyn Rembrandt. Bendor Grosvenor has written a considered response (naturally my choice of adjectives reflects my position in the debate!). I'd put a slightly different emphasis on the debate, so here are my thoughts: 

• Prohibiting export of works of art is an arbitrary confiscation of private property. A picture that can only be sold in one country is worth less than one on the global market. Spanish law effectively confiscates pictures as soon as they arrive on their shores. It's bizarre policy to punish people for buying art. You can still believe in punitive tax on gifts and inheritance, and taxing the rich until the pips squeak, You can still disbelieve in the merits of private property. But punitively confiscating wealth if it's in the form of art is utterly bizarre.
• I disagree with Bendor Grosvenor that the works of art that have been saved are those that objectively are most cherished by the nation. I think donors place a lot of belief in the expert assessments of works that must be saved. And I don't think they always make the right choices. Personally I'd take the Le Brun, which was let out without a squeak, over the Van Dyck. And I wholeheartedly agree with the museum director who told Bendor that the Penrhyn Rembrandt isn't the best in the country. Apparently the Art Fund has never failed in its appeals, which means they're probably taking too few risks. 
• There really are some things that it's in the national interest to save because they are so strongly connected to the country. I'm not convinced that applies to everything that is export-blocked, and I don't think there is such a strong case for trying to save things simply because they are especially important. In any case, the really good things are usually the ones that get away because we can't afford them. I agree with Bendor that the answer is funding, not export controls. 
• Stephen Deuchar completely misses the point of what the Art Fund ought to be doing: helping to pay for really good museum acquisitions. Limiting it to 'saving' the stuff that happens to be in the UK is needlessly limiting. Pictures that can be exported are worth more because they can be sold to a global market. The other side of that is that we can buy better things if we look around the world for the best acquisitions, rather than trying to 'save' things that happen already to be here, deferring to the historic judgment of British collectors. 
• Here are some ideas from me on what to buy. And now I'm off to see the Gentileschi at Sotheby's. 

Recent reading

Jan Royt The Master of the Trebon Altarpiece Carolinum Press 2015 £31.50

This is a book and an artist worthy of more attention. The artist's work is almost all in Prague, and the book was published by Charles University and seems not to have been widely reviewed. But the pictures are amazing, as you'll appreciate from the book's high-quality plates. The solidly academic text explains multiple contexts for the Trebon Master and discusses his known works. Its style is a little formal, and I thought it could benefit from the structure of a traditional catalogue raisonné, rather than an analytic monograph. As it is, parts of the text read like catalogue entries pasted together. But the quality of analysis is high, and the book is worth getting for the pictures alone.

Frank McLynn Genghis Khan: The man who conquered the world Bodley Head 2015 £25

This enjoyable popular history narrates the astonishing rise of the Mongols, who went from being central Asian subsistence nomads to conquerors of most of the known world, from China to eastern Europe. McLynn focuses on the great military campaigns which are both the most salient aspect of Genghis Khan's reign, and the best documented. But he ranges widely, discussing administrative practice and religious beliefs, which seem to have been rather new-age ecumenical. He leaves grand speculation on the causes of the Mongol hegemony to the last chapter, which I found least satisfactory and overly hasty in downplaying environmental factors. But although I learned a lot from the book, I was frustrated that the narrative pace trumped historical scruples. 

Sources on the Mongols are partial, biased and ancient. Reportage and myth are entwined. McLynn is a popular historian trying to tell a good story, so he doesn't pay enough attention to uncertainty. It struck me when he wrote definitively about the Mongol's skill as warriors, including the ability to time their shot at the exact moment when the horse's feet are all off the ground (p.130). But people didn't even know that horses even raised all their feet off the ground at once until Muybridge's photographs. Makes me wonder about the other claims, including the remarkably precise report of the archer who shot a bow 550 yards in a contest in 1225. He suggests that despotism is against Buddhist creed (p. 143); he should read Brian Daizen Victoria's Zen at War.

McLynn has a peculiar fascination with alcohol. Massive piss-ups are a staple of ancient culture, and hardly confined to the Mongols (though the shift to higher-alcohol wine was a shock to their system). But for McLynn it's an opportunity for wild speculation: "As a student of human nature, [Genghis Khan] knew that a ban or prohibition would be a pointless gesture which would not work, so he tried to moderate the problem by decreeing that none of his subjects should get drunk more than three times a month" (p.158). Remarkable that he was so much smarter than our current rulers, but of course it's an evidence-free assertion. Later McLynn writes that "Severe alcoholism was the major reason for the short lifespans of the great Mongol khans and aristocrats" (p. 363). That's an absurd assumption that tells us more about the author's preoccupation with a fashionable cause of our own times than about the health of thirteenth century warrior elites.

Academic and popular history are needlessly far apart. Often academics are to blame for bad writing and an excessive preoccupation with their peers rather than their sources, and also for a sometimes snooty disdain for history written by non-academic historians. But often the fault is with popular historians who are cavalier with evidence and think that telling a good story is sufficient. This book has many merits, and its daft speculative moments damage its credibility.

Rachel Laudan Cuisine and Empire: Cooking in world history University of California Press 2015 £19.95

Satisfying big history packed with delicious morsels, taking us from prehistory to the present day. Love the old warnings against vegetables, and the Soviet caution against drinking too much water. Laudan is a smart cookie who keeps a sense of narrative sweep holding together the details. For much of history innovation was limited to elite food; everyone else was stuck with dull staples. ‘Middling cuisine’ arose late, giving us all better and more varied options. She is cautious of the moralistic critique of diet, rightly celebrating our great success in providing such rich and varied food for all. 

Bernd Roeck Florence 1900: The quest for arcadia Yale University Press 2009 £25

The years from about 1890 to 1914 are some of the most fascinating in human history, a time of change that eclipses our own supposedly unprecedented dynamism. It was a time of rapid urbanisation, and cities like Vienna, London, Paris and New York led the charge. This book can be read as a fascinating oblique take on these changes, writing about a city that even in 1900 was becoming a tourist shrine, despite rapid growth. Roeck focuses on expatriate communities, the Germans and English who made Florence their home. It's remarkable to read about the extent of destruction in central Florence at this late date, and of plans for even more thorough-going redevelopment. I enjoyed it less than I expected; its tone is a little dry, and much of the material about expats was familiar to me from other sources. But weaves together a magnificent kaleidoscope; how wonderful it must have been as part of that cultural circle.  

Frank E. Zimring The City that became safe: New York's lessons for urban crime and its control Oxford University Press 2013 £13.49

Crime rates have collapsed across the western world. It's one of the most amazing social developments, yet good news stories prompt less discussion than bad. The rapid rise in crime from the 1960s prompted an industry of hand-wringing and competing explanations powered by different biases and ideologies. It's fascinating on many levels, and deserves much more attention; I'm always glad to find smart books addressing the question.

New York's crime statistics led the way up and down, and Zimring's book tries to explain it. I hadn't appreciated just how dramatically crime fell in NYC (99% decline in auto crime, for example). And some of the common explanations, like zero-tolerance, are less important than is commonly believed. Unfortunately the dearth of studies at the time means that data aren't available to test some hypotheses. But just as those in charge were blamed for rising crime rates, so those in charge more recently are credited with bringing about decline, and we accept their explanations too readily. Impressive book, and the lack of definitive answers is a failing of the data not the author.