Even if "old master" names
Forgery of art in mediaval period, before the renaissance. While art objects from antiquity enjoyed admiration in medieval times, the act of forging them for personal gain came to a halt. The prerequisite of a market with collectors seeking to acquire scarce artworks was absent. Fraud was prevalent, but the focus was primarily on documents such as deeds, wills, and, more notably, religious relics like fragments of saints' bones, particles of their clothing, and dust from their tombs. Medieval artists did not attain fame comparable to their predecessors, and the works they produced were occasionally signed, with signing practices varying widely by location and medium.
For instance, Spanish tenth and eleventh-century manuscript illuminations were regularly signed, while French Gothic sculptures rarely bore signatures. Artists who identified themselves on their creations were in the minority, and their names often faded into obscurity over time. Although medieval artists had room for innovation in their work, the concept of originality as a revered accomplishment was absent and would only reemerge with the Renaissance. The medieval mindset lacked an inclination to possess artworks outside the realm of religious devotion, devoid of worldly acquisitiveness and monetary value.
While this characterization generally applies to the medieval period, certain exceptions stand out. Charlemagne, for instance, accumulated numerous art pieces, including carefully selected works imported from Italy to his palace in Aachen. He sponsored workshops of artists in various locations to create new works, often styled after classical antiquity. While Charlemagne's holdings can be described as a collection, the practice of assembling a grouping of art objects separate from various other items would not gain traction for several centuries.
In the twelfth century, Henry of Blois, brother of King Stephen of England, exhibited eccentric behavior when he traveled to Rome on a political mission and returned home with an assortment of classical sculptures. This behavior was considered a throwback to ancient times, with a member of the papal curia mocking the project as akin to an art dealer with a dubious reputation, quoting from a satire by Horace about Damisippus, who had gone mad buying ancient statues.
In the late medieval period, a few collectors followed Charlemagne's example and began amassing groups of art objects. Collecting gradually gained popularity among monarchs and the nobility, although early records of such activities are available only for isolated cases. In the early thirteenth century, Emperor Frederick II Hohenstaufen signaled this trend as he compiled a collection of classical sculptures, antique coins, and carved gems. Oliviero Forzetta, who amassed a library of classical manuscripts in the fourteenth century, is said to have had considerable holdings in the same mediums as Frederick II. Jean Duc de Berry in the fourteenth century established an extensive collection specializing in illuminated manuscripts but also included various other objects, with an unusual emphasis on medieval rather than classical art forms
During the medieval period, collecting did not drive the creation of deceptive artworks. However, another motive led to the presence of a few deceptive pieces. In Venice, starting in the thirteenth century and culminating in the thirteenth century but beginning earlier, stone carvings were crafted, accompanied by fake documents, to give the city an appearance of greater age.
Specifically, works were fabricated to make the Basilica of San Marco seem several hundred years older than its construction beginning in the ninth century. Stories emerged of a predecessor building, the remnants of which would have showcased artistic features common to an earlier period, preserved and incorporated into the succeeding structure.
Deceptive objects included a fasade depicting the Labors of Hercules and another with the miracles of Christ, both styled as sixth-century Byzantine, along with a pair of marble columns long mistaken as fourth or fifth century. Although archaism in the creation of medieval art is not inherently indicative of deceitful intent, the degree to which it is found in Venice is unusual and points to the city's desire to connect with an early Christian heritage rivaling that of other cities, whether legitimately or at least claimed. Ecclesiastical prestige and the power it bestowed were the ultimate prizes.
Additional instances of deceptive medieval artworks emerge in two distinct sets of twelfth-century thrones: one from Rome and another from Southern Italy. Numerous scholars have scrutinized individual works within these groups, positing that these pieces intentionally evoke past traditions to enhance ecclesiastical and political standing. The Throne of Urso at Canosa di Puglia exhibits peculiarly non-functional features for a structure ostensibly designed for the bishop it is named after, suggesting a later construction aimed at connecting to past ecclesiastical glory.
Similarly deceptive, the throne at the Salerno Cathedral incorporates lions indicative of the third or fourth century. In Rome, the Basilica of San Lorenzo, the Basilica of San Clemente, and the Basilica of Santa Maria in Cosmedin all display inscriptions contradicting their actual construction dates. These examples, among others, present perplexing anachronistic elements reminiscent of antiquity, with some pieces incorporating spolia into a newly fabricated entirety. While some may interpret these features as innocuous homages to the past, the pattern of artworks simulating earlier times raises suspicion, akin to the artificial aging observed in Venice.
In conditions where deceitfulness was widespread, particularly with documents and relics, the potential for fraudulent intent becomes apparent, especially when recognizing a motive to distort history. Art historian Lawrence Nees contends that thrones such as these were crafted as documents inscribing memories of the past, effectively improving upon the historical record essentially forgeries. These works should be viewed, at least on one level, as analogous to the multitude of forged charters and documents characteristic of the eleventh and twelfth centuries.
For this sort of deception with artwork to have been present in medieval culture, complete secrecy was not necessary. Rather, it could have been known to an inner circle of clerics, artisans, and local residents yet not to other people, and carried out the intended effect of seeping into historical consciousness. Over time, traces of insider knowledge would diminish and eventually vanish, and even if recorded, might go undiscovered later.
