The Antiques Roadshow
is one of my favorite shows on television.
What I most like about the show is its willingness to look at art and
antiques through the lens of the market; I suspect that like a vast majority of its 13
million weekly viewers, I am most interested in the monetary value of the
objects presented. While the background
of the objects, their makers, milieu and aesthetic qualities are deeply
appealing, I admit that I might not watch as religiously if each segment
didn't end with each the expert’s declaration of their opinion of the value of
the item(s) discussed and I enjoy trying to guess the value before it is
announced. The engaging, well-produced show harnesses our fascination with
monetary value to highlight history and artistic skill and deserves the many
awards and honors it has received, and as a professional in the field of art, I
appreciate the interest it has without a doubt generated in collecting and
treasuring our shared cultural heritage.
Lark Mason with a set of rhino horn cups,
appraised at $1 - $1.5 Million, one of the records on the show
Like anyone who watches a TV show that covers their area of
interest, however, I have a few very pointed criticisms. This is not unusual. I have a friend who refused to watch The Sopranos because it reinforces
negative stereotypes of Italian-Americans, and my physician sister cannot abide
any medical drama because none of the interns or residents ever looks tired. Unlike these fictitious shows, however, the Roadshow deals in reality. Unlike most reality TV shows, this one, I
think for many viewers, rings true. The experts are able to convey enthusiasm
and authority, the owners who bring the pieces in are obviously everyday
people, the setting looks like a trade fair with which we are all familiar, and
after all it’s public television –it can be extremely hard to remember that it
is still a TV show.
Reading a few online ‘behind-the-scenes’ articles about the
show, and in discussing it with colleagues, a few of whom are actually experts
on the show, I have come to understand a bit about how the show is put
together. Attendees are sorted into
categories immediately upon entering the venue and then wait on long lines to
see the relevant expert. Interest in the
show is so intense that tickets are distributed by lottery. Approximately 3,000 people come to the
typical event in a day, each of them bringing two things to be looked at. From this hoard, about 90 items are selected
for individual presentation, with the appraiser making a pitch to one of the
producers, who then decides if it is worth taking the time to shoot a
piece. It can be an ‘over the shoulder’
segment, which is less time-consuming, but with items of particular interest,
the owner, after signing a waiver is
brought to a green room in anticipation of a one-on-one with the expert. Everyone is wildly busy, so it may take up to
4 hours for the owner to get in front of the cameras. While they wait, like talent on any TV show,
they are given food and drink and a comfortable place to sit. Since the show prizes the reactions of these
people when the expert does ‘the reveal’, they are kept apart from each other,
lest they learn anything more about their piece. At that point, they know something is up,
but, as regular viewers know, their works can sometimes be used as a teaching
moment, explaining why something is a fake.
While the delay, in part, allows the camera guys and
producers to do their work, there is also a private area in the arena where the
expert can do research, both on the internet and by consulting books. They almost always have some off-site support
as well: assistants or a team back home that have additional resources handy
that can help with comparables and to provide information that can be presented
on air. They may also call on the opinions
and insights of their fellow experts at the venue. Finally, especially in the case of furniture,
many objects have been submitted in advance (this is often to alleviate the
hassle of moving heavy objects in if they are not that interesting), which again
gives the presenters time to put together an engaging story about the art and
to give an informed opinion of value. Naturally, the owner is not aware of any
of this work; it is their reaction which we all want to see. When it is at last
show time, object and owner are brought before the camera and the magic is
made.
While this makes for great television, it at once glamorizes
and diminishes the work that an expert does.
The viewer is given the impression that experts know off the top of
their head where and exactly when a maker was born and died. The presenter seemingly woke up knowing which
two sailboats competed for the America’s Cup in 1906, or can look at a necklace
and tell at a glance how many carats of diamonds are in it, as well as their
color and clarity.
I don’t for a second question these experts. They are on the front-lines, looking at
thousands of works a day, honing their eyes and knowledge. There is no question in my mind that they
could probably speak almost as well about most of the objects without doing any
research at all. And of course, many
times you hear them say that they ‘did some research’ or ‘consulted with their
colleagues’. So I am not accusing them
of lying; it is really more a function of how a TV show is made. I suppose when we watch a cooking show and a
perfect pie pops out of the oven the moment after a raw one is put in, or when
the cook grabs a handful of chopped ingredients without showing us the
chopping, we all inherently understand that the boring stuff has been glossed
over. Who wants to see an expert referring
to online price databases or looking through a hallmark book of old silver?
My issue here is that it gives the impression that expertise
is innate and effortless. By excising
almost all references to the nitty gritty, the Roadshow runs the risk of making the process of appraising seem capricious.
I don’t want to overstate the case, but I do feel there is a tendency towards
privileging the expert on the show, that it sometimes feels as if the expert is
making a pronouncement rather than expressing an opinion. When the expert is seen to be able to bestow
a value without having to consult anything but their own mind, we are getting
very close to making the whole thing seem subjective.
I am also convinced that the show engenders an expectation that
experts can produce immediate, credible opinions of value. My evidence here is hardly scientific, but I
have heard from numerous dealers and appraisers that they have been shown an
image of a work of art on a phone and been asked for a value. The phone-holders are invariably incredulous
when their request is declined. Nobody
wants to hear that appraising art involves drudgery. (I should also note that people paying
appraisers by the hour are especially adverse to the idea that the process can
be time consuming). By making appraising
seem subjective, effortless and immediate, Roadshow
does the field a great disservice.
I hasten to add that I don’t blame the experts on the program. It is the producers who are making this
happen and they are doing so in order to make a TV show which 13 million people
enjoy. I get it. But would it be so hard to have some cutaways
to the experts conferring with each other, talking on the phone to their
offices, looking over each other’s shoulders at laptops, deep in discussion
while looking at comparables? Or maybe
have a very short segment behind the scenes about how it all works? I don’t mean to suggest that as a TV show,
the Roadshow has a responsibility
towards the field of appraising, my point is that it might be a better show if
they gave us all a glimpse of just how amazing these experts are. They don’t just know an awful lot, they have
research skills, they are able to direct other people to help them, they are
able to network and build collegial relationships with other experts. I think we would all be more impressed, not
less.
My other concern with the Antiques Roadshow is much more serious. I feel that the values presented are
misleading. In the course of one show, a
viewer might hear “I would say a conservative auction estimate would be…”, “In
a retail shop, I would not be surprised if…” and “As an insurance value I would
say that this is…” This is not
surprising. Some of the experts work at
auction houses, others have retail shops and still others are appraisers who do
a lot of insurance work. But there is
never any explanation of what these various values mean or how they differ. Whatever number(s) the expert gives is
displayed along the bottom of the screen at the end of a segment. Again, this is not the experts fault; after
all, they clearly state exactly what value they are giving. But I fear that these distinctions get a bit
lost in the shuffle. The Roadshow audience is probably very
sophisticated and no doubt picks up on these differences as I do. Nonetheless,
I think the practice of flashing a value without stating what sort of value it
is crosses the line between making a fun TV show and distorting the reality it
purports to convey. For of course, an
insurance value is pretty close to what would be asked in a retail shop…but not
quite. Insurance values usually
encompass sales tax and/or shipping, as well as any framing or other charges
for creating a pleasing manner in which to present a piece. Auction estimates might be wholesale, or
not.
The expert's value is displayed along with the show's
trademark treasure chest and sound of coins clinking.
What all of these values encompass is the commissions due
the seller. In almost every instance, in
my estimation, the owners stand to gain at least 20% less than the value stated
on the show. For items below $5,000, I
would say it is probably more like 40 – 60% less.
Again, a lot of people probably know this, but judging by the reaction
of some of the owners, I am not so sure.
The guy who has a vintage toy for
which he paid $500 and who is told to insure it for $800 looks delighted, but I
imagine he will not look so happy when he is offered $325 when he tries to sell
it. I suppose the owners will find out
soon enough about the spread between the bid and the ask if they don’t know it
already, but the rest of us are left with the impression that anybody, not just
an insurance company who collected premiums and made a commitment to pay if the
item were lost, would buy that toy for $800.
The problem with all this is that it makes everything seem
worth more than it is, or should I say, it tilts towards the most optimistic
notions of value. On one level, who
cares? It’s just a TV show. And who is harmed if we choose the highest
possible value when thinking about a piece?
In my view, it is the dealer who actually has to sell the work and make
a living that takes the hit, which serves to undermine the public’s confidence
in the entire art profession. Commissions
are extremely high in the art market.
There are a lot of reasons for this.
For one thing, it is hard to sell art…it takes time as well as having a
large network of buyers, and a seller needs a context in which to do so: an art fair, or a gallery, all of which takes
money. Furthermore, art needs to be
insured as well as transported and shipped properly. People who deal in antique clocks have to
spend at least 4 hours assembling and disassembling each clock for display at a
fair—think of that the next time you see a booth with 18 different clocks on
display.
Almost always on the program you will hear the expert ask if
the person has had it appraised before. Occasionally
an owner will say “My wife had it appraised 15 years and the appraiser offered
her $1,000 for it so she knew it was worth more”. This stands to reason. Someone in the business of selling art will
naturally offer less cash upfront than what they can sell it for later. More often than not, the expert on the show
comes up with a value that is worth way more. This perpetuates the notion that the
art world is just a giant confidence game where the little guy is going to get
screwed. (There are actually a lot of informed insiders who think the same
thing, but that’s a topic for a different blog post!). In other words, by contrasting what someone
would actually have paid in the past with what you should insure something for
now without any nuance, the show does a great disservice to the very profession
it seems to celebrate.
I should also note that this anecdote (which is based on my
memory of a number of segments, I am not referencing a specific one here) is
typical in that ‘appraisers’ are usually made to look unscrupulous. The field of appraising has become
increasingly professional over the years in response to situations such as
this. It is wildly unethical for someone
to approach an owner as an appraiser and to then offer to purchase or take on
consignment a work of art without disclosing that they have switched
roles. An appraiser has a fiduciary duty
towards their clients which would not allow them to enter into a different sort
of agreement with a client without making them aware of the change.
Obviously, there were the bad old days when unethical
behavior was more commonplace than it is today.
But the field now has strong member organizations that look after the
profession. It is thus unfair that the
program more often than not refers to anyone who previously gave a value as an
‘appraiser’. It may well have been that
the person was a dealer. I may be
splitting hairs here, but all of the presenters are experts and should be very
precise in the language they use and they should ask the owners to be specific
about who exactly it was that gave them a value previously.
My suggestion regarding the various valuations used
interchangeably on the Roadshow is
that the experts ALWAYS quote marketable cash value…that is, what is the amount
that a seller would receive, net of fees and expenses, in an orderly
transaction, one that allowed for sufficient time to market the work and so
forth. I suppose the lower numbers might
be less compelling on one level. If
they liked, they could then quote the retail or the insurance value so we all
understood exactly what the piece was worth, in the expert’s opinion. I know the program is entertainment, not a
public service documentary using real-world examples about how values are
arrived at in a USPAP compliant appraisal report. But it would be more real. Is not that what the Antiques Roadshow is supposed to be?
John Tett, “What Happens Behind the Scenes Before an Antiques Roadshow Appraisal?” AV Club.com, March 25, 2014
Bonnie McCarthy “Behind the Scenes at the Antiques
Roadshow” Huffington Post, October 2, 2013
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