The Art of Secrets (7 page)

That same day, arriving early at the gym before basketball practice,

Steve Davinski, senior,

discovers the newspaper reporter sitting in the bleachers, waiting for Kevin Spoon.

Whoa, whoa, whoa—you're a newspaper reporter? Let's hold up a second here, sir. I am president of the senior class. Nice to meet you. Maybe you should be talking to
me
about all this, okay? I'll be happy to give you a few minutes. You got your recorder turned on?

The thing about me is . . . I mean, I know a lot about a lot of things, but if there's one thing I don't know
squat
about, it's art.

However, I do know something about investing. My dad works at a bank in Skokie. Investment advice, retirement planning, that sort of thing. He tells me how crazy markets can be. And of all the crazy markets, the craziest one of all is the art market. Insane.

Seriously, I wish my parents had dropped a few grand into this guy Darger back in the eighties, when you could find his work in the local galleries. They were affordable then. These days, his art goes for, like, eighty to a hundred grand each. Or more! These paintings of little girls and butterflies and soldiers.
Eighty to a hundred grand!

Anyway, as you know, what Kevin and his sister found was not one Darger drawing, but a whole book. Ten pages.

Here's some basic math for you: Ten times eighty grand equals eight hundred grand. Right? A truckload of cash. Except that since these pages are all bound together and tell a story, they're worth more than that. In this case, the album is probably worth more than the sum of the individual paintings.

My first guess, the art was worth a million, at least. Had to be.

The art itself? To be honest . . . I think it's kid stuff, and more than a little creepy. I mean, the violence in the pictures doesn't bother me—it's no different than what you see in video games.
But whatever, girly watercolor paintings aren't my thing. For me, the interesting part is the financial value.

So on Halloween, out of the blue, I saw my dad standing outside the main office here at school. This isn't so unusual, because he's on the board of directors. He's their financial guy, so he comes for meetings a lot. I went over to say howdy, and then saw Kevin and Kendra Spoon standing there, along with Mr. Delacroix, the art teacher. I ended up following them all into the principal's office.

As you may know, walking into the principal's office is like walking into the Oval Office. Oil paintings, brass desk set, everything's got a shine to it—including the principal herself. I mean, she wears those dark suits and do-not-mess-with-me shoes, like someone who doesn't shy away from a fight. That's just who she is.

Dr. Stickman made some introductions, and then we all sat down in those fancy leather chairs. The hilarious thing was, I had no business being in there. I should have been in class! At the same time, I don't like to miss out on what's going on, you know? I usually go where stuff is happening. Plus, I get pulled out all the time for student-government shenanigans. So I sat down and listened.

The first thing out of Dad's mouth was to the Spoons. He wanted to speak to their parents. Kendra said he could call her mom whenever he wanted. She wrote down the phone number and handed it to him. “Before you call, you'll want to clear your schedule,” Kendra warned him. “Mom loves to talk.”

Kevin just laughed.

Anyway, Dad told the Spoons he wanted them to get this artwork appraised and insured. He started getting into the details, the hows and whys, making notes for Kevin and his sister to take with them.

Only thing is, the Spoons looked at the grown-ups as if they were nuts.

Mr. Delacroix was pacing the room. He said something like, “Listen to what he's telling you, kids. I haven't slept a wink in two nights.”

Kevin cleared his throat and was like, “Thanks, but we're not interested in insuring the artwork.”

Nobody said anything, which was completely awkward. Kendra finally said, “The thing is . . . well, we
donated
it to the school fundraiser.”

“That's correct!” Principal Stickman said. “The girl is absolutely right. It was a donation to the school fundraiser. If anyone should insure it now, it should be the
school
.” She sat back in her chair and folded her arms. She wasn't happy, that was obvious.

My dad looked at the Spoons the way he looks at me when I ask to borrow his good car. “You're saying you still want to sell the work and give the money to the Indian family?”

“Pakistan,” Kendra corrected him. “Saba's parents are from Pakistan.”

Dad shrugged, but I could see he was embarrassed.

Mr. Delacroix said, “Kids, right now, it doesn't really matter what you plan to do with the artwork, exactly. Think for a second. People are going to know about this thing. Before long,
everyone
is going to know. That means you have to protect it.”

Dad was like, “What if it gets stolen? What if there's another fire? You'd lose everything. Get an insurance policy, even for a month or two, so you sleep at night.”

The Spoons were not into it. They said they didn't want the hassle, or the attention, when the artwork was going to be sold so soon anyway. “Besides,” said Kevin, “
we
wouldn't lose anything. It's just something we found in an alley. It doesn't have any real value to us.”

“But it might bring in some money for the Khans,” Kendra added.

“Then get it insured for them,” I said suddenly, thinking of Saba. Everybody turned and looked at me, like I had farted or something. “Seriously, guys,” I said, “please do it for Saba. Protect the art for her sake.”

Kevin and Kendra stared at each other, and even though neither of them said anything, I could see some freaky
telepathic
sibling communication going on. After a few seconds, they both had these tiny smiles, and Kevin was nodding, and I thought:
Score!
I'd convinced them. That felt awesome. It made me glad I'd crashed this little meeting.

Then Dad gave us a quick intro to the insurance business. He told us that when it comes to art and antiques, the insurance value on a painting is worth even
more
than the auction value. It's different for cars and ordinary stuff. To replace a car is the cost of the car. Simple. But to replace something rare or unique, like art, it's really impossible.

“Who will pay to have it insured?” Principal Stickman said. “An insurance company won't insure it for free. Now if the art belonged to the
school
, couldn't we—?” She looked to my dad for support, and he was like, “Of course, the board would be happy to insure it. It wouldn't be expensive to buy a policy for a month or two. I can call my pal Brian over at—”

“Our mom will pay,” Kendra Spoon said. “It will be her donation to the auction.”

Kevin nodded and said we should call her right then.

“Let's not get ahead of ourselves,” Mr. Delacroix said. “We need to have this work authenticated before we can even talk about insurance.”

A couple days later, on Friday, an appraiser came to school. Apparently she's a top dog in the field. This chick was
eccentric
, which is a polite way of saying she was weird. All dressed in black. Pink scarf tied around her neck, covering half her chin. And she had on these clunky round glasses, which I guess passes for
chic
these days. We were all crowding her, asking questions, so she took the album into the principal's office and spent about thirty minutes alone with it. We could see her through the office window, photographing the pages, scribbling in her notebook. When she came out, this goofy art lady seemed almost excited. She said a few words to the effect that they really might be authentic. She asked Principal Stickman for permission to take the album with her, so her lab technicians could do some chemical testing.

Plus, she said, she needed to show it to other people
.
Because, even if the work could be authenticated, which would be awesome, they had to determine what
class
of Darger's work it belonged to. Even artists have off-days, I guess, so their work gets ranked in quality. Top level, second level, third level, and so on. And that ranking, within the artist's body of work, helps to determine the value.

Principal Stickman was standing in the corner, hands behind her back and looking down at the floor. Between you and me, sir, you could tell she was pissed at the world. She muttered something like, “It seems you will have to ask the Spoons for permission to take them with you.”

Next to me, Kevin was like, “Totally fine with us. Take whatever you need to see if any of it's worth something.”

A couple weeks later, the appraiser lady came back with the paintings and a signed appraisal—which I assume you have seen—along with the excellent news.

Appraisal Correspondence

MEMO

Date: November 16

To: Ms. Monica Spoon

Cc: Regina Stickman, Highsmith School

From: Louise Denison

International Fine Art Authentication & Appraisals

Chicago, Illinois

I am very grateful for the opportunity to appraise this work.

Based on the distinct style, the age of the materials, and the unique subject matter, this was easy for me to recognize as the work of Henry Darger—probably made between 1935–1945. I could take this work to any number of reputable galleries in Chicago, and they would say the same thing. In fact, I did show it around to confirm that what I was seeing was real.

There is a difference, of course, between
recognizing
the work of a particular artist and
authenticating
it. The process of authenticating art can take quite a long time. There are many fascinating stories of an art gallery—or an art scholar—spending years working to prove the authenticity of a piece of work, tracking down evidence, identifying correspondence or journals or gallery sales records in which the piece is referenced or mentioned. All these details come together to create what is called the artwork's “narrative,” or provenance—the story of how it was created and what has happened to it since then.

Authenticating work by Henry Darger is challenging, because the paper trail is, at best, incomplete. He didn't attend art school, didn't exhibit or sell his work, didn't trade or even correspond with friends. The ideal situation would be to establish that this work was part of the collection found by Darger's landlord upon his death in 1973. That body of work has been extensively catalogued. I regret that these ten watercolors are not part of it. If they were, their value would increase substantially.

However, as with any artist whose work is emerging, when you consider that there were many years before Darger's work was discovered and appreciated, things did “go missing.” Items got thrown away. Darger himself may have discarded this album of pictures. It happens more often than you might think. And if/when a piece of this art later reappears, we rely upon the judgment of the community of appraisers to see if it's “right.” In this case, two young people who have demonstrated little to gain (by authenticity or lack of authenticity) found this volume—the right watercolors in the right condition—in the right neighborhood in the right city. The unique story of their discovery will now become part of the provenance of this particular work. It's a narrative that Darger collectors will trust. And many of them would be happy to own this collection, despite knowing the uncertainty of its path to the present day.

Darger was meticulous about labeling his illustrations. Typically we see hand-printed, penciled notes on his work. He has not written anything on these pages. Possibly these are rudimentary sketches—ideas for something he was planning to do on a larger scale—and that will affect its value to collectors, too.

At this time, however, we are pleased to confirm with a high degree of confidence that this is authentic, second-level work by Henry Darger (1892–1973). A conservative estimate of the value of the collection would be $350,000–$450,000. Of course, at a well-advertised auction, it could sell for much more. Insurance value: $550,000.

I have attached the necessary paperwork, which should remain with this work going forward.

Congratulations, and thank you again for the privilege of seeing and appraising this important work.

Steve Davinski, senior,

continues his conversation with the reporter.

Okay, so I was off by half a million. Still, five hundred fifty K is a major stack of coin, am I right?

At that point, the Spoons took out an insurance policy on the artwork, and the album got locked up tight in the gym office. This helped us all to breathe a little easier, you know? Knowing everything was safe. My dad was happy. Mr. Delacroix was happy.

The only freaky part is, the Spoons still want to donate the artwork to the auction. It's unbelievable. People are saying, “Are you effing nuts? You can't donate this thing. That money can change your life!”

And Kevin's like, “But the whole point was to raise money for the Khans. Maybe it sounds crazy, but it's what we're going to do.”

At practice the other day, I heard Coach P telling Kevin, “You have college tuition ahead, a house to buy someday. Trust me, kid, it's one thing to be generous, and it's another to be a moron.” Kevin really respects the coach, but even she couldn't convince him.

Kevin's attitude is that his family is financially comfortable. He feels “fortunate.” All I've heard is that Mr. Spoon, whoever he was, has been dead a while. He left the kids with a trust fund. I'm thinking college costs are taken care of, you know? And so they're sticking to this plan to use the Darger money to help the Khans. At one point, Principal Stickman posted a letter on the school's website. Did you see that? Here, I'll pull it up:

[He grabs an electronic tablet from his gym bag so he can show the Web page to the reporter.]

To: Principal Stickman

Subject: Artwork donation

A message to the Highsmith community:

(Dr. Stickman, please feel free to share this. We have received many,
many
thoughtful phone calls like yours.)

With all of you, we celebrate this unexpected good fortune. We do appreciate your guidance about how to proceed on this matter. However, at this time I respectfully submit to the wisdom of my children, Kevin and Kendra. After all, they are the ones who found the treasure in the first place. If they have decided to sell the Darger artwork and use the money for the benefit of the Khan family, then I support that decision. The Khans are part of our community, and something that benefits one family benefits all of us.

Most of all, I admire my children's altruistic spirit, which gives us hope for the future of the great nation called the United States of America.

Sincerely,

Monica Spoon

That's the kind of people they are, these Spoons. I guess that particular flavor of crazy runs in the family.

All I know is, my girlfriend, Saba, is suddenly worth half a million dollars.