What constitutes an original work? How legitimate are facsimile reproductions and estate signed prints? What is their value? Are they a growing trend? In a two-part series, SASHA GRISHIN courses the minefield of originals, fakes and copies to search for answers. He begins with the original print in the digital age.
[Graham Fransella, Figure by lake, 2004, etching, edition 50, 14 x 14cm. Courtesy Graham Fransella and Australian Galleries.]
Prints in particular, and works on paper in general, have always delivered art experts a heavy cross to bear when called upon to differentiate an "original" from a "reproduction".
The fly in the ointment is the idea of "multiple originals". We have been conditioned to think that there can only be a single unique original and that everything else must be a copy after that original. In the collecting of art there is an instinctive appeal in the idea of owning the unique original, rather than one out of dozens or even hundreds of identical original prints or original vintage photographs.
Anyone addicted to prints is quick to point out that an original print has its own unique qualities which can never be replicated in a reproduction - like the bitten line in etching, the ridge of ink in a relief print or those rich flat slabs of colour in a screenprint. However, the most important mark of originality is a conceptual one, rather than one of medium. A simple definition is that a reproduction presupposes that something exists to be reproduced. So while a painting, drawing or photograph exists, it can always be reproduced, usually with improved technologies; hence a reproduction has no special value. With an original print, be it an etching, a relief print, lithograph, engraving, a photograph or a work in any other medium, nothing exists until a matrix has been created and the plate, block, stone, stencil, negative or electronic memory has been printed.
[Graeme Peebles, Victim, 2007, hand coloured mezzotint and à la poupée, edition 40, 89.5 x 59.5cm. Courtesy Graeme Peebles and Australian Galleries.]
The crucial distinction between an original and a reproduced copy lies in the artist's intention. All prints are unique originals which sometimes exist in editions. An edition exists when an artist has decided to make more than one unique original impression from the matrix and has chosen the number of impressions to be made, stated the exact number created, signed them as unique impressions, and cancelled the matrix to prevent further prints being made at a later date. Usually an artist will number prints within an edition, for example, if the edition is 25 impressions, the prints will be numbered 1/25, 2/25 and so on. Despite a widespread superstition, 1/25 is no better or more valuable than 25/25.
If an artist decides on an edition, that decision is made with the knowledge of the number of perfect impressions that can be achieved in that particular medium and the actual numbering of an edition is often totally arbitrary, so that the last impression off the press may in fact be numbered as the first in the edition. As the technology involved in the production of a print may be very complex, a master printer, a print workshop or laboratory technicians may be involved in the production of an edition.
[George Baldessin, Two aspects of MM (2nd state),1977, etching and aquatint in 3 states, edition unmarked, 90.5 x 60.5cm. Courtesy George Baldessin Estate and Australian Galleries.]
A grey area lies in unethical conduct where the artist has not cancelled the matrix and when an edition has sold out, either they, or more often their estate, prints additional copies. This happens rarely, as it devalues the currency of the artist's work. These additional copies are frequently neither signed nor editioned, or are fraudulently signed, and are usually of a much lower quality and commercial value than the original impressions. In Australia the occurrence of prints or photographs being produced after the artist's death is relatively rare, but in Europe and the US, some big named artists, including Salvador Dalí, have had their reputations damaged through irregular editioning practices.
A far greater scourge has been the advent of reproductive prints - when paintings or drawings have been copied, usually photographically or digitally, and then reproduced. One such example was when a famous painting by a Central Desert artist was photographed and then a number of screens were cut and the painting was reproduced as a screenprint in a large edition. It was a dog of a print, but what made the whole operation problematic was that the prints were sent to the artist, who was paid a hundred dollars for each print signed. All of the pieces of paper were signed and these copies were unleashed onto an unsuspecting market. The value of these prints lay in the artist's autograph - as works of art they are an embarrassment to those who unwittingly bought them.
[John Wolseley, After the fire - leaf surge, 2003, lithograph, edition 40, 33 x 60cm. Courtesy John Wolseley and Australian Galleries.]
Sadly, a number of non-Indigenous artists, who are aware of the implications of the whole printmaking tradition, have allowed their paintings to be reproduced either through greed or stupidity. It is sad that the reputations of these artists may be tarnished, as they could be remembered for sometimes lifeless copies rather than the vibrant originals which gave them birth.
[Yvonne Boag, Language exchange, 2004, etching, edition 50, 41 x 45cm, Courtesy Yvonne Boag and Australian Galleries.]
In extreme cases, photographic or digital copies have been made from original art works and have then been marketed as original prints by shady dealers. These are simply fakes, and such dealers are liable to criminal prosecution for misrepresenting the authenticity of the product; it is like selling fake designer jeans.
Original printmaking and photography in Australia exist at the highest international level. Reproductive copies reproduce something that exists in another medium. The acknowledgement of this distinction is essential for the integrity and the survival of the original work of art.
[Hertha Kluge-Pott, Guardian, 2003, drypoint, edition 12, 45 x 50cm. Courtesy Hertha Kluge-Pott and Australian Galleries.]