Meet the Specialists

By Oliver Barker
Executive Vice President, Chairman, Sotheby’s Europe

During my time at Sotheby’s, I have been privileged to work with a number of the pivotal self-portraits of the 20th century—masterworks by Francis Bacon, Andy Warhol and Lucian Freud among others. Rembrandt, for me, however, stands as the greatest self-portraitist of all time. After visiting “Rembrandt by Himself,” the 1999-2000 exhibition at the National Gallery, London, I set out on a quest to try and see his dozens of painted self-portraits in person, tracking them down over the years in collections from Vienna to New York. Until recently, one had eluded me.

The picture in Musée Granet in Aix-en-Provence does not at first appear the greatest of prospects. It is dark, dingy and has slightly discolored varnish. But when you spend time with it, you realize it is magnificent. The paint is layered and textured, and the coloring, while initially seeming somewhat bland and homogenous, is full of variety. By drawing you in, this triumph of the Dutch Golden Age conditions your eye to look in a more focused manner. You cannot help but wonder what he was thinking, what his state of mind was at the time of creation.

Unlike many of Rembrandt’s earlier works, which advertised his dexterity in pictures that were also ultimately eminently sellable, this self-meditation was likely not produced for commercial value. It depicts the artist in his early 50s, at the outset of his final decade, as commissions, and thus models, were beginning to dwindle. For these very reasons, it is a staggering example of artistic introspection and was entirely worthy of the pilgrimage. As an auctioneer, it is always tempting to imagine how it would feel to bring any great museum work to the rostrum—but this particular daydream will, rightly, have to remain just that.

The painting possessed the same magnetism for Bacon. He kept a reproduction of it in his studio—can be seen in the wonderful documentary by the late art critic David Sylvester—and he would often visit the original during breaks from losing at the gambling tables of Monaco. The dimensions of the Musée Granet’s jewel are in fact very close to the 14 inch by 12 inch format Bacon came to settle upon as a near standard for his own self-portraits.

I now gather photos on my iPhone, arranged alphabetically by artist, of many of the artworks that I view in person. Looking back at the image of this work in my burgeoning digital scrapbook, I am reminded once again that the camera does not capture what the human eye can. You simply cannot deputize the two—as living artists like David Hockney have articulated—and nothing substitutes the impression of seeing a painting in the flesh.

—As told to James Haldane

By Brahm Wachter
Senior Vice President, Head of Modern Collectibles

When it comes to sports artifacts, the level of wear matters. If a piece is worn by a major athlete for a big game, it can tell a great story. But if an item is worn for game after game, it accumulates a multitude of memories. And if those games received a lot of coverage—if they have gone down as moments in history—it embodies those memories. During his legendary 1996-97 season with the Chicago Bulls, Michael Jordan donned this jersey for at least 17 games, making it nothing short of a unicorn.

I felt all this when I held it, even through a pair of gloves. You imagine countless people watching Jordan on TV and in the arena. This is the jersey he wore in March 1997 when then-rookie Allen Iverson, bravely going head-to-head, crossed over Jordan. These are the snapshots from basketball history that everyone remembers.

The reasons behind the jersey’s heavy wear are a mystery, made more intriguing by the fact that Jordan was at the peak of his powers and fame at the time. He went on to clinch his second three-peat, a trio of championship wins, from 1996 to 1998. People would try anything to get his signature No. 23 jerseys. Years earlier, in one infamous incident, he had to wear the number 12 because someone stole his jersey before the game. So it is extraordinary that this jersey survived on the court for about five months.

Twenty-three is synonymous with Jordan because it is the number he wore at the start of his career. After returning from his first retirement and a stint in minor league baseball from 1993 to 1995, he wore the number 45 for a brief period. Things were not the same. Some fans argued he’d lost his powers, and the new number was blamed. In reality, baseball players’ bodies are different from those of basketball players, and it was taking him time to readjust.

The situation came to a head after the 1995 Eastern Conference semifinals. Orlando’s Nick Anderson stole the ball from Jordan, leading to the game-winning basket. With crushing simplicity, Anderson told the press after the game, “Number 45 is not number 23.” But the toppling was short-lived. At the next game, just before tip-off, Jordan removed his warm-up jacket to reveal that number 23 was back. And it truly was—he went on to score 38 points, driving the Bulls to a 104-94 victory over the Magic.

This iconic red is in fact the Chicago Bulls’ “away” color. At home games the team wears white, but the red uniforms are the most coveted by fans. Many collectors will also appreciate the fact that this jersey dates from the era when Champion manufactured the NBA’s uniforms. Today the league’s jerseys are made by Nike, but there is something very cool, vintage and nostalgic about Champion pieces.

This item is also exceptional for its direct Bulls provenance—the team sold it to the private collector bringing it to market now. Very few Jordan items possess such a clear ownership record. Maybe they were given to a ball boy, who then sold them. The chain can be lost with time. Here, though, is a piece that will connect its winning bidder with a living legend and a living memory.

—As told to James Haldane

By Kalika Sands
Assistant Vice President, International Specialist, Head of Sale, Books and Manuscripts

The “crown Jewel” of Bibliotheca Brookeriana, a landmark library of more than 1,300 rare books being offered for sale over three years, is an extraordinary assemblage of Renaissance-era volumes published by Aldus Manutius (or Aldo Manuzio). Based in Venice in the late 15th century, Aldus would become one of the most revered book publishers ofall time. T. Kimball Brooker began acquiring these works in the mid-1960s, and the breadth of the collection is unparalleled, boasting about 1,000 titles published between the 1490s and the 1590s.

For any bibliophile, Aldine editions represent a touchstone in the history of the printed word. Over five centuries, they have been coveted for their quality and prized for their essential role in shaping our understanding of the Renaissance. Aldus’s influence in these areas is difficult to overstate, given that his aims were so bound up with notions of accuracy and attainability. Aldines were produced in a smaller format than other books of the period, making them easier to acquire and transport. And there’s something charming about the idea of intellectuals and aspiring scholars strolling through 16th-century Venice with immaculately produced copies of Dante’s or Cicero’s manuscripts tucked in their pockets.

Aldus worked at the intersection of histories and stories, helping to ensure that texts we now regard as seminal to Western thought weren’t lost. In Bibliotheca Brookeriana, there’s a remarkable copy of “Herodiani Historiarum” (or Herodian’s Roman History), printed in Venice in 1524 by “the Heirs of Aldo Manuzio & Andrea Torresano.” But before Herodian, there was Herodotus. Sometimes called “the father of history”—at least by Cicero— Herodotus was born around 484 B.C.E. and is regarded as the first author to compose such a systematically arranged narrative of events. In setting down these histories, he hoped “that things done by man not be forgotten in time.”

More extraordinary still is that the Brooker copy once belonged to Jean Grolier (1489/90-1565), the treasurer general of France, renowned bibliophile and great supporter of the Aldine Press. The work was bound in Paris by Jean Picard for Grolier and bears Grolier’s personal motto on its lower cover: “Portio mea, Domine, sit in terra viventium” (“Lord, let my portion be in the land of the living”). Following its residence on his shelves, this volume passed through the hands of the American financier Junius Spencer Morgan (1813-90), father of John Pierpont Morgan; Danish painter Sigurd Wandel (1875-1947) and Gudrun Wandel (1882-1976), his first wife; famed German bookdealer Jacques Rosenthal (1854-1937); Stuttgart engineer and bookbinding expert Ernst Kyriss (1881-1974); Swiss banker Willy Dreyfus (1885-1977), who worked to recover his family’s property looted during World War II; and Belgian bibliophile Michel Wittock (1936-2020). It has even passed through Sotheby’s rooms once or twice.

This copy of “Herodiani Historiarum” is just small enough to fit in a fine Italian vest pocket and speaks to the importance of preserving histories and stories. And with its long and distinguished provenance, it stands as a testament to how objects make meaning, carrying their own unique histories with them.