Simon Gillespie, chemist, magician - the masterpieces he has restored for the Lant Collection

Simon Gillespie, sleuth, chemist, aesthete, magician -
the masterpieces he has restored for the Lant
Collection

Preface / Introduction

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Each picture he saves, and many have been masterpieces down on their luck is the work of a
lifetime. To contact Simon Gillespie Studio in London email info@simongillespie.com or go to
simongillespie.com

Table of Contents
1. When your experts disagree and why every connoisseur needs a conservator of integrity and
verve... like I have.
2. 'You're lovely, absolutely lovely.' Connoisseurs, the objects of their desire, the gnawing
obsession.
3. Flowers assuage 'all sorts of misfortune'. A masterpiece by Jean-Baptiste Monnoyer found,
restored, enjoyed in The Lant Collection.

Simon Gillespie, sleuth, chemist, aesthete, magician - the masterpieces he has restored for the Lant Collection

When your experts disagree and why every connoisseur
needs a conservator of integrity and verve... like I have.
By Dr. Jeffrey Lant
Author's program notes. When I go to an art museum, gallery or auction house I am eagle-eyed and
fastidious to a degree. A nick in the frame, the dust and grime of centuries, the general effect sad
and forlorn, all these I see. I see, too, the myriad of other defects in these often bedraggled artifacts
which are a severely neglected part of our artistic inheritance. I see them... I decry them... but if the
picture in question be on offer... such defects constitute a cri de coeur I cannot resist.
For I am a good Samaritan, thrilled by finding something that was once splendid but has fallen upon
hard times; an object once of brilliance and splendor, calling to me to restore it to its pristine allure.
I hear the cry, I see the need, but alone I cannot do the task. To achieve the desired result I need a
collaborator... a person as fastidious as I am, as exacting, as motivated to return a once beautiful
thing to its full, proud state. I need -- Simon Gillespie, sleuth, chemist, aesthete, magician. And, as
this article will prove, I am lucky to have him, just as he is lucky to have me... both essential for the
achievement of the goal.
For the incidental music to this article, I have selected, so perfect, Modest Mussorgsky's 1874 suite
"Pictures at an Exhibition" (which you'll find in any search engine) because I know what going to
exhibitions with Simon is like. We are both opinionated men, men of wit and wisdom, men unafraid
to weigh in on the relative merits of any picture by any artist on earth... we are men, too, who enjoy,
as what true connoisseur does not, life's good things... and we like to share them, too.
Dorotheum.
I am always on the hunt for another picture for my collection. One admirable place to find the Old
Masters I desire is in Vienna at Dorotheum, where since 1707 connoisseurs have found pictures to
their taste. I loved it at once and I somewhat regret sharing this information with you, as I know you
will love it, too, and someday we may vie for the same object, to your dismay since I am unrelenting
where the pursuit of beauty and ownership are concerned. Still, as I am a good Samaritan...
At Dorotheum I find the treasures particularly of Middle Europe, lands of nobility, culture, and of
once proud dynasties now with impecunious relations who sell history with regret. I feel completely
at home in these corridors...
The "Gnaw" test.
... The picture of Holy Roman Emperor Leopold II captured my eye at once. It was, even in its
terrible condition, worth a second glance.... then a third. It portrays the future Emperor as Grand
Duke of Tuscany, in 1765 , a lucky boy who had been gifted with the city of Florence and environs
to reign over. It was a fate any civilized person could enjoy without cavil. His brother Joseph II was
emperor of all, with all the world's problems. Fortunate Leopold had la dolce vita and the portrait,
for all its imperfections, showed that.
Thus fortified, I slept on the matter, and it passed the "gnaw" test; viz., if the item in question is of
sufficient interest that it gnaws at you ... then you must pursue the matter. That is the connoisseur's
credo, and I adhere to it fiercely.
I emailed the efficient staff at Dorotheum, requested the condition report (it made for almost
macabre reading what with all its damages and how they happened)... and then asked to speak with
the staff expert on this picture. She was charming, knowledgeable -- and adamant.

http://www.LizsWorldprofit.com Copyright Elizabeth English - 2012 4 of 13


"Do not buy this picture."
If you have never done business with any of the major auction houses, you may well be incredulous
at an employee therein telling a customer looking for reasons to buy that such reasons were few,
indeed non-existent, and that you'd be most sorry if you disregarded the advice not to purchase. But
there is a method to this madness and that is the value of long-time satisfied customers. Such
customers in the Old Masters category can easily buy objects totaling hundreds of thousands, even
millions of dollars in a lifetime. Thus these auction houses, many founded like Dorotheum in the
18th century, take the long view -- and so their candor stems from more than basic honesty... it is
good business.
Dorotheum's in-house expert on the painting had good reasons for what she said: the picture, not to
put too fine a point on the matter, was an unholy mess, as you can see from the " before" photo
above. What's more, the picture was so far gone that restoration, in her professional opinion, was
impossible. The object was well and truly one step from the ignoble street vendor or flea market.
And that, so she said, was that.
But there she was wrong... I had Simon Gillespie in my corner. And I was on the telephone to him a
few minutes after I had heard what Dorotheum's expert had to say.
"How long have I done your pictures?"
Many years ago, I purchased from Sotheby's in London a magnificent portrait of Queen Victoria's
handsome, irresponsible father-in-law, the Duke of Saxe-Coburg-Gotha. It should have been in
Buckingham Palace but probably wasn't because Her Majesty didn't approve of his hurtful behavior
towards his son, her adored Prince Albert. And so wafted by this royal displeasure, the picture
commenced its history of peregrinations. Until I saw it, wanted it, but didn't at all like the idea of
living with its imperfections. I had enough of my own.
I asked the expert assigned to this picture to recommend a restorer and conservator... and thus Simon
Gillespie and I came to know each other and work together towards assembling pictures of note...
and bringing them back to life. When I told Simon what Dorotheum's expert had said, he answered
briefly and to the point: "How long have I done your pictures?" In short, his opinion, stated frankly
and without equivocation was to acquire this off-putting picture and let him get on with the job at
hand. Expert advice and all importantly expert results make me who advise so many take heed at his
advice. And so, over the course not just of years,but of decades, Simon has brought
recommendations to me; I have brought my potential finds to him for always candid advice. And
one picture after another (now a thing of beauty yet again) has embarked for the New World to my
domain...
... and each time they arrive, I am the proverbial kid in the candy shop, for, remember, until that
moment I have not actually seen the object but in photographs... each acquisition instead acquired on
the recommendation of one sage fellow who has never misadvised or misdirected me.
Stunning, smart, chic, how does he do it?
And so the latest item in my happy avocation is now in Cambridge... the picture I was explicitly told
to avoid... but took bolder counsel from Simon. And, of course, to see the "before" and the "after" is
to know at once why a good conservator would never do... it had to be the best. And so it is. In every
work he and his attentive staff take on... you are sure to find a result of integrity, for Simon like
me,is supremely dedicated to doing the right thing, the accurate thing, the thing that "restores", not
invents.
Each picture he saves, and many have been celebrated masterpieces down on their luck, is the work



of a lifetime. For Simon is a conservator to his fingertips. That means he has helped back to health
one work after another, learning in their subjects, their compositions, their brush strokes and
flourishes their secrets... and so he keeps good faith with them and their creators... and the same
good faith to customers like me who demand authenticity and in Simon Gillespie they always get it.
To contact Simon Gillespie Studio in London email info@simongillespie.com or go to
simongillespie.com



'You're lovely, absolutely lovely.' Connoisseurs, the objects
of their desire, the gnawing obsession.
by Dr. Jeffrey Lant
Author's program note. One of the loveliest songs ever written, short though it is, was composed by
Stephen Sondheim for his 1962 musical "A funny thing happened on the way to the forum." It's
called "Lovely", and he wrote both book and music.
The song only lasts for 2 minutes and 28 captivating seconds... but once you've heard it even a single
time it will circulate throughout your brain for life. It's the kind of song that forces you to create
situations where you can sing it, use it. For instance, I have recommended singing it to your
Significant Other the very minute you come home this evening... always accompanying your
admittedly croaky voice with flowers, candies, and ardent declarations delivered on one arthritic
knee. That Significant Other will no doubt gibe, giggle, and give every indication of busting a gut
laughing, but they'll be touched to the core. And Sondheim, a master in every way, wrote it for just
that.
Go now to any search engine and let the music frolic around you. You cannot be anything other than
happy, for you see you are the person Songheim celebrated in this tune...
... You that is and every object desired by every single connoisseur and collector on earth. And that,
given the incessant collectors we are, is just about everyone.
"You're lovely".
I am what is called a connoisseur, that is a master of matters artistic and of taste... the kind of person
who can say with credibility of any object on earth just what is, and even more important, what is
not of value to civilization. It is back breaking work, what with millions of artifacts to find, subject
to minute scrutiny, and, the object passing the most stringent of tests, arranging the contortions,
financial and otherwise, which lead to acquisition and a lifetime of unadulterated love (with dollops
of shrewdness and cleverness to sweeten the mix.)
This process, for me, begins with a catalog from any of the great auction houses on earth... with
names like Sothebys! Christie's! The Dorotheum! Et al, great and small. These produce the siren
songs that capture my attention and cause me endless nights of torment and insistent cogitation...
these are the places, the very holiest of holies for connoisseurs, that wreck havoc in the minds and
pocket books of even the most well heeled on earth. And of course these long-standing institutions
with instantly recognizable names (at least to connoisseurs) are expert at catching their fish (that
would be you and me, dear friend) and keeping them on their gilded hook c. 1250 A.D. once the
property of the Queen of Bohemia. Look at yourself in the mirror and remember: you are about to go
fishing in the most teeming waters on earth where your expertise will be tested against the very
best... whose skills, wiles, courtesies and insights have been honed over centuries... all designed to
capture you... the unceasing object of their potent desires.
Catalogs you pay for, versus catalogs hand endorsed and wafted to you.
When I began collecting so many years ago, the Internet was not dreamed of, much less a universal
factor of life. And so collectors like me had to rely on the sales catalogs produced by the many
divisions of the major houses. If you have never seen such a catalog you will not understand that
these in no way resemble the short and flimsy cousins produced by, say, companies selling roasted
meats. No indeed. These companies share a word... but nothing more. For the auction house catalogs
are nothing short of the erudite and lavishly photographed "coffee table" books of yore, with only



one difference: in these catalogs every single thing is for sale, could be yours, and which you are
allowed, indeed encouraged to want... fervently, wildly, devotedly. Yes anything, everything could
be yours... for a price.
In the beginning of course, when these long-established houses (with the grandest dating from the
18th century) do not know you, you must pay for the privilege of getting a catalog. And, as if to
warn you about what is to follow, even these catalogs are steeply priced, at $50 or more each.
But when you are that all-important entity -- a demonstrated connoisseur -- you may request any
catalog for free... or, when you are more well-known, too, specialists will send you their latest, a
card enclosed with their compliments. One such specialist so beguiled yesterday sent me the latest
sales catalog from Sotheby's Amsterdam, for they have sales from noble and royal houses which
beguile me, and regularly seduce me from the thrifty ways of my plain-living, luxury abhoring
Puritan ancestors. They look down on me now with disdain and disapproval... But that is their
problem, not mine.
"I'm lovely. All I am is lovely."
No one can aspire to being a connoisseur without the "eye"; that is the practiced ability to perceive,
not just to see, an item. This is the work of a lifetime... for, you see, ages previous to ours did not
have just or only masters; there were many lackluster crafts people... and, such is fate... they often
survived where the superior productions of their more gifted brethren may not. Yes, Fate is fickle
that way.
To develop your eye requires incessant labor... the willingness, indeed the desire, or better yet, the
obsession... to examine, scrutinize, and, at all times, improve your ability to know what you are
looking at, and why it either is or is not worthy of... you. This all starts when an item you see in a
sales catalog, or on the Internet, looks at you (for the object most assuredly selects you, as much as
being selected by you)... when, I say, that item looks at you and says without any modesty at all...
"I'm lovely. All I am is lovely. Lovely is the one thing I can do..."
But is this claim true... or merely a ruse... to ensnare you? This is where you must have help... or you
are on the way to a very expensive mistake, a mistake which is almost always avoidable if you do
your homework; which entails finding, listening to, and following the advice of experts who have
spent a lifetime perfecting skills and knowledge you don't have but which you desperately need
right now. Such experts can be acquired, first, from the auction houses themselves and then by
referral from the auction houses.
Direct, candid, honest to a fault.
One of the most gratifying and unexpected things you'll learn as you develop as a connoisseur is the
honor and honesty of experts. Their candor is a by-word and rare in our world of mendacity and
practiced deceits. In short they tell the truth. And no matter how thoroughly you mature as a
connoisseur you will always rely on it... as I do. My chief support is London-based Simon Gillespie,
conservator of paintings, friend, goad, willing ear, magnificent eye. Sometimes he brings possible
acquisitions to me; sometimes I to him. In the case of the striking floral still life pictured above, by
Jean-Baptiste Monnoyer (1636-1699) it was, first, my find; then after Simon's review, very much his
as well. The song sung by this lovely painting by one of the greatest masters, had not been sung in
vane. I had taken the bait... as how could I not... for I already knew the man and his work; one of his
magnificent ouevres was mine already, hung here to enliven the gray winter days of Cambridge...
and never anything other than winsome.
Thus the duet.
Each object, every artifact which could be collected must sing out about its merits, particularly when



those merits are not immediately apparent and only as a result of some master conservator's
ministrations, the work of a Simon Gillespie, absolutely essential to the long-term value and
preservation, for such necessary experts see below the damages, scarred surfaces and problems
which accrue in these objects over time -- and these were immense and challenging in the new
Monnoyer. In short, they see the "lovely" in items anything but. And the lucky ones (for they are
lucky indeed) are snapped up (often at bargain prices), about to be returned to their original
condition, a thing of beauty, a joy forever.
And it is the connoisseur who makes that decision (always after soliciting the best advice) and
makes the necessary investment of time, money, patience, and belief. And who then is more than
qualified to sing back to the object of his affection these words by Sondheim:
"You're lovely, Absolutely lovely. Who'd believe the loveliness of you?"
I would. I did. And now it is mine, "Radiant as in some dream come true."
### Your comments on this article are invited, post your comments below.



Flowers assuage 'all sorts of misfortune'. A masterpiece by
Jean-Baptiste Monnoyer found, restored, enjoyed in The
Lant Collection.
by Dr. Jeffrey Lant
Author's program note. In the 17th century, in France, ambitious men strove to become the masters
of their crafts. They didn't look for short-cuts; abominated slothful, slipshod ways, and always,
always aimed not merely to excel, but to astonish not only their colleagues and their patrons... but
most of all themselves, their most discerning critic, the one who knew everything and from whom
there could be no secrets or matters undisclosed.
For the incidental music to this article on French master Jean-Baptiste Monnoyer, painter of flowers,
I have selected music by Francois Couperin (1668-1733), master composer. Go to any search engine
and find one of the many renditions of his gem "Les Baricades Misterieuses." Turn it on, turn it up,
for you are in the company of deft mastery, of craftsmanship, of genius.
Sotheby's, London, Lot 251, December 8, 2011.
This is what the catalog said:
"Jean-Baptiste Monnoyer (Lille 1636-London 1699)
A still life of lilies, honeysuckle and other flowers in a vase on a ledge.
Signed lower right JBaptiste. oil on canvas 17 7/8" by 22 3/8 in."
This write-up was accompanied by a photograph, a photograph disclosing without mercy the pitiable
condition of what had once been a work of grace, beauty, and allure, but which now was anything
but. My heart went out to this picture, its painter, its present state of distress and the thought that
here I might be able to make a difference, to make a once proud and beautiful object proud and
beautiful again.
About Jean-Baptiste Monnoyer.
Monnoyer started his career providing designs for both the Gobelins and Beauvais tapestry
workshops, the acme of such works. There his fruit and flower designs were judged to be excellent.
Such was his skill and artistry that he was taken up by Charles Le Brun and so came to work at the
Chateau de Marly, the hideaway King Louis XIV sought when the pomp and protocol which he
created and insisted be used at Versailles became too overwhelming even for a Sun King.
Monnoyer, thus, was in the perfect place at the moment of its sumptuous perfection.
In 1690, having been admitted to the Academie Royale de Peinture et de Sculpture, he went to
England, where his masterful work crafting over 50 panels for Montague House, Bloomsbury,
London created a vogue for the man and his meticulous work produced with botanical accuracy. He
did not merely paint flowers, he made them live. It was a skill only the greatest masters possess...
and which Monnoyer possessed in such abundance that he was no longer a painter of flowers, no
matter how excellent, but The Master of such painters, the doyen who set the standard by which all
others would be judged. Such a master did not ask me to scrutinize this work and do what was
necessary to rehabilitate it. He commanded me to do so.
A call to Simon Gillespie, Cleveland Street, London.
When I see a thing of beauty which I might want for my collection, I contact Simon Gillespie, for in



the art of conserving pictures, he is as masterful as Jean-Baptiste Monnoyer in creating them. And I
know whereof I speak, for over the last 25 years Simon has restored over 30 pictures for me, all of
which were badly damaged at acquisition but, because of painstaking, meticulous work, came to live
again. For a thing of beauty can only be a joy forever if it is expertly, regularly cared for with the
skill and dexterity of which Gillespie is past master. I know the man. I know his work. I would not
think of commissioning another to save the imperiled pictures I collect and delight in saving.
This is what he told me about this Monnoyer before I acquired it: "This was once a very beautiful
picture by a very good artist. It has probably been in a very hot room at the start of its life where it
dried rapidly causing a dramatic set of cracks. I think I should go and have a look when it is up on
the wall to determine the viability of resurrecting it." And so it began... he doing his research, me
doing mine.
The online Artcyclopedia provided me with excellent but rather daunting information; the works of
Jean-Baptiste Monnoyer are found in the Fitzwilliam Museum at the University of Cambridge; the
Hermitage Museum in Saint Petersburg; the Metropolitan Museum of Art in New York; the
Museum of Fine Arts, Boston; and the Royal Collection in London. Moreover, the J. Paul Getty
Museum in Los Angeles has acquired 13 -- yes 13 -- of his paintings and with almost unlimited
funds could easily outbid me.... outbid, perhaps, but perhaps not outsmart.
And so, with the perceived distress of this masterpiece working in my favor, I acquired it... happy
that what it needed we could provide and at once.
What had to be done.
The picture was brought to Simon's studio where tests were carried out to remove the various layers
of dirt, grime, discolored varnish. and small amounts of over paint which had been applied to
minimize some of the cracking but also liberally covered original paint unnecessarily.
The cracks were indeed disfiguring and interrupted the fine detail of the brush strokes of the flowers.
The canvas had also been enlarged top and bottom incorporating the old edges of the canvas,
presumably to fit an old frame or match a series of other paintings. Each of these problems -- and
several others --had to be solved, not merely finessed. And as you can see from the merest glance
above, each and every one of them was solved...
All this having been accomplished, Simon wrote this to me: "The resulting work of art is a very
refined piece of painting from a famous artist who knew how to achieve a great painting. I am
always proud to see that after years of bad experience a picture can undergo such a good
transformation. Looking at the painting now, you would never know that it had taken this recent
journey."
Indeed not, and that is why Simon Gillespie is the master craftsman he is, and why I deem it not
merely a practical necessity but an honor to enage him and his talented staff.
Here, in Cambridge, to cheer and remind me.
Now this masterpiece hangs in my inter sanctum, the place where I think, write, and think some
more; the place where I am writing you now. It is a special place... a place devoted to making the
world a better place... an exacting task in which my two Monnoyers assist. For both fell upon hard
times and were rescued... and if two can be rescued, why not three, three hundred, and more?
All it takes is starting with a single step, for as 20th century poet Wallace Stevens wrote after
discovering Monnoyer, flowers assuage "all sorts of misfortune". Thus we must do everything we
can to ensure they have the chance to perform their comforting work, suffusing our often difficult
lives with brilliant color, light, hope... and the vision and craft of masters like Monnoyer, Couperin,



and Gillespie.



Resource
About the Author Harvard-educated Dr. Jeffrey Lant is CEO of Worldprofit, Inc., providing a wide
range of online services for small and-home based businesses. Dr. Lant is an avid art collector.
Republished with author's permission by Elizabeth English http://LizsWorldprofit.com.


Simon Gillespie, chemist, magician - the masterpieces he has restored for the Lant Collection

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