Persian tale of magic carpets
Ireland’s Fine Arts, antiques and collectables column
MY GREAT grandfather bought a live seal in a tank at auction. It happened entirely by accident. He went to the auction with no intention of buying a seal, but the polite man on the podium kept waving at him and my great grandfather waved back. When the hammer fell, the seal was his. I’m not sure how much of this story is true (or what happened to the seal). As a child, though, I believed every word of it. That’s why I’ve always been terrified of buying things at auction.
Last week, I decided to face my fears and travelled down to Sheppard’s Décor Decoded auction in Durrow, Co Laois. My plan was to bid on a Persian carpet.
Persian carpets can be terrific value at auction. They’re beautifully designed and skilfully made but, with strong colours and intense patterns, they’re a bit more rug than most people can handle. My family is no exception. The week before the auction we perused the catalogue online and anything with red as a dominant colour was vetoed. That ruled out most of what was on offer.
Others were too small or too expensive. All the received wisdom about buying at auction is to decide what you want to bid for, in advance, and set yourself a price limit. Mine was €300. Lot 268, a truly beautiful IndoPersian silk rug (est. €400 to €600) decorated with plants and birds against a background of blue, was beyond our budget. Or so we thought. I missed the bidding and the lovely thing sold for €340. Damn!
Eventually, we decided on Lot 660, a Persian carpet with “leaf and floral polychrome decoration on a cream ground”. I headed off down to Durrow having promised myself that I would bid on that rug, and that rug alone, up to a limit of €300. None of this worked out.
Décor Decoded was what’s known as an attic sale. Most of the big auction houses have one and their purpose is the clear the decks of things that haven’t sold in previous auctions. There are many bargains. When I arrived the auction was in full swing. First, I had to register to bid. I was given a number on a sheet of paper that I was to show to the auctioneer if I made a bid (in the heat of the moment I forgot about the number entirely).
Then I asked for a sneak preview of the auction fare — you’re meant to attend the viewings but I hadn’t made it down. I found the rug that I intended to bid on. I didn’t like it all! Then, something else caught my eye: Lot 528, a “large Persian tribal rug”, with gloriously bold geometric patterns (est. €300 to €500). The reckless joy of auction fever took over.
I walked into the auction room itself and within minutes I realised that the auctioneer, Michael Sheppard, had it all in hand. He knew I was a newbie and there was no way he was going to sell me a live seal in a tank. He did make a creditable effort, though, to sell me a moth-eaten taxidermy fox. “Don’t make faces,” he told the auction room. “It’s a beautiful fox.”
In the half hour before my rug came up, I thought that I was going to die of excitement. When it did, I was in there like a pro. I placed an opening bid of €200, the hammer fell at €260. and the rug was mine. Gradually, I became aware that my nearest neighbours, clearly friends, were bidding against each other for a large 19th-century Japanese Imari charger (Lot 469: est. €80 to €120). “You’d better not meet me in the hunting field,” muttered the nearer of the pair. “I’ll see you in the ditch.” His friend shrugged and placed the winning bid of €100. Later, I met the plate’s new owner in the lobby where he was introduced to me as a collector of note. “I shouldn’t be let into auctions,” he said. “I don’t get what I want and I always come back with what I don’t want.” At that moment, a porter brought my rug out to the car. Including taxes and fees, I had paid €330 for a large carpet with a lot of personality. It occurred to me, as I drove home, that going to an auction is like going to the races. You just have to go for it. See sheppards.ie.