THE VIRGINIAN-PILOT
Copyright (c) 1994, Landmark Communications, Inc.
DATE: Wednesday, July 6, 1994 TAG: 9407060027
SECTION: DAILY BREAK PAGE: E5 EDITION: FINAL
SOURCE: BY KERRY DOUGHERTY, STAFF WRITER
LENGTH: Medium: 95 lines
ABOVE OUR PIANO hangs an oil painting in a gaudy gold leaf frame. We affectionately call it the equine Mona Lisa.
Upon close inspection of the artwork (I use that term in the loosest sense), the horse appears to be knock-kneed. The rider's head is too small. If that isn't bad enough, the horse is smiling.
Not a grin, exactly, just a faint horsy smile.
Peculiar as the painting may be, it goes quite well with our antique Persian rug, which has a big patch. And the chiffarobe with the veneer falling off.
Such are the flawed acquisitions of people addicted to auctions.
Auctions, estate sales, antiques.
My husband and I love them all.
If we have a day off together, we begin the morning by scanning the classified ads for estate sales in old neighborhoods and auctions with unusual items.
Over the years, we've accumulated a few real treasures. The 150-year-old silver candelabrum that breaks down into multiple candlesticks. The delicate Victorian marble-topped mahogany night stand, a set of antique andirons, several oriental rugs.
We've also made our share of mistakes.
Ironically, we've found our errors provide us with the most fun. They are possessions with a good story. They brighten a dull cocktail party. Their worthlessness is offset by their conversational value.
How many times can you amuse guests with the tale of going to Haynes to buy a sofa?
Which explains why, one Friday last spring, we were sitting in bumper-to-bumper traffic on Interstate 64 West trying to get to Yorktown in time for a 6:30 p.m. auction.
A five-car pileup thwarted our efforts. In exasperation, we finally pulled off the interstate and backtracked to the Monitor-Merrimack Bridge, arriving at the auction breathless and nearly an hour late.
There is a drawback to tardiness at auctions. It deprives the bidders of the opportunity to carefully examine the merchandise on the block.
We found that out at the rug auction where we were able to acquire a genuine antique Persian rug at an unbelievably low price. A patchwork Persian rug as it turned out.
Nevertheless, my husband and I noted a few pieces of furniture that we liked on our auction list.
The bidding went too high and we lost out an all.
Suddenly my husband nudged me. He silently pointed to an oil painting of a hunt scene. A lone rider, dressed in pinks atop a horse. It was encased in a big gold frame.
``What do you think?'' he whispered.
I nodded.
When the painting finally went on the block, most of the crowd had dispersed. The auctioneer had the painting held aloft and urged the audience to begin bidding at $400.
``What do you think it's worth?'' my husband asked.
``I don't know,'' I whispered uncertainly. ``The horse looks kind of weird to me.''
My husband squinted.
There were no takers at $400.
Or at $300.
The audience was as quiet as a crypt at $200.
``Who will give my $100 for this original oil?'' the auctioneer pleaded.
``OK, $75? $50? $40? $35?''
He had said the magic words, my husband raised his bidding card.
The auctioneer tried to goad the audience into bidding against us.
But no, for $35 the painting was ours.
``The hind legs on that horse are going to drive me crazy, they're definitely akimbo,'' I said after finally putting my glasses on.
At the conclusion of the auction, my husband paid for the painting. As we walked through the dark parking lot lugging the large gilt-framed masterpiece, I joked about how we may have bought the famous lost knock-kneed horse painting.
``Did you notice that the horse is smiling?'' my husband asked.
``No way.''
We put the painting in the back seat of the car, and in the dim overhead light I examined the horse's face. Sure enough, he was smiling.
Smiling.
I felt like the painter was sneering at us.
``It's OK, '' my husband reassured. ``The frame's worth more than $35.''
The next morning, as he hammered and measured, placing the painting proudly on the wall over the piano, my husband made a prediction.
``Someday the kids will be fighting over who gets the painting of the smiling horse,'' he said. ILLUSTRATION: Color photo
A painting acquired at auction without close inspection turned out
to feature a knock-kneed, smiling horse with rider whose head is too
small. Now, it's a family treasure.
by CNB