Attack of the Bronze Clones

There is currently an ongoing criminal investigation into the forgery of works by the renowned sculptor and artist Ernst Neizvestny (1925–2016). Investigators consider Maksim Koshkarev, a captain of the second rank and deputy chief of staff of the Russian Navy’s Northern Fleet, to have been involved in the scheme. The investigation established that, “as part of a criminal group, he organized the production of at least 30 works of art without the consent of the copyright holders, in the name of artist and sculptor Ernst Neizvestny,” which were subsequently sold to private collectors for at least RUB 90 million. The case concerns casts of the master’s sculptures produced after his death without the permission of the copyright holders.

Controversy surrounding posthumous sculptures is nothing new. In 2010, the Tel Aviv Museum opened an exhibition of sculptures by Edgar Degas that caused a stir—not because of the masterpieces themselves, but because of their provenance. The exhibition featured bronze casts of well-known statues that had recently been produced from 74 plaster molds discovered in 2004 at the foundry of Claude Valsuani near Paris. The exhibition drew condemnation, but this did not stop the process. New “Degas” works appeared on the market, more affordable to buyers than those from the original edition. The artist’s heirs recognized the plaster molds as authentic, approved the production of bronzes from them “for the purpose of popularizing the artist’s work,” and issued certificates. Since then, a series of exhibitions of these works has traveled around the world. In 2013, for instance, a project from the collection of the M. T. Abraham Foundation was presented at the Hermitage.

But the Degas story is ethically questionable from the outset. Degas himself never worked in bronze. He exhibited sculpture only once: Little Dancer, made of wax and dressed in real clothing and a wig. After Degas’s death, as many as 150 sculptures were discovered—made of wax, clay, and plasticine, all in poor condition. His heirs decided to have 74 of them cast in bronze. The contract with the A.A. Hébrard et Cie foundry stipulated that each work would be produced in an edition of 22. All the pieces were numbered and marked with Degas’s name and that of the foundryman, Hébrard (although a number of unrecorded examples later came to light). However, as it turned out, the plaster models used in the process were not destroyed. Still, transparency has its merits: buyers purchasing a “Degas bronze” now know what questions to ask. Both editions are posthumous, but the difference between them—including the price difference—is considerable. In 2022, Little Dancer, cast by Hébrard in 1927, sold at Christie’s for $41.6 million; examples made from the Valsuani molds have typically sold for around $2 million.

In general, casting a sculptor’s works in bronze after their death, particularly when the originals were made from fragile materials, is common practice. This is how the legacies of Honoré Daumier, Auguste Rodin (including The Thinkeritself!), Frederic Remington, Käthe Kollwitz, and Henry Moore have been preserved. In Russia, the same applies to Boris Orlovsky, Alexander Matveev, Valentin Serov (the statuette The Rape of Europa), Paolo Troubetzkoy, Ivan Shadr, Vera Mukhina, and others.

Once a bronze cast has been successfully produced, it is difficult not to continue the practice, whether for purposes of popularization or commercial gain. The canonical example is Rodin, who bequeathed all his property to France, including molds, casts, and copyrights. The Musée Rodin is the only institution authorized to commission casts from the original plasters. The number of casts may not exceed 12 (eight under French law, plus one for the museum’s collection). They bear the foundry’s marks and edition numbers. Any other cast is legally considered an “unauthorized reproduction.” At the same time, Rodin’s works entered the public domain after 1987, with the exception of moral rights, which remain with the museum. This led to a case in the French courts that dragged on for a decade and a half, beginning in 2007, against American Gary Snell, who had managed to acquire authentic Rodin foundry plasters and began producing his own unauthorized sculptures from them.

Another situation arises when an artist himself produced editioned bronzes during his lifetime. How many examples of a single work is it considered “proper” to produce? Is this regulated by law? And what should be done with the molds used to create the work?

There is no strict legal regulation governing the edition size of a work produced by the artist himself. Different techniques have their own ethical standards. For example, a “limited edition” of a print or photograph typically ranges from 10 to 100–200 examples. Artists are limited primarily by ethical considerations—or, more precisely, commercial ones: oversaturating the market is not profitable. But later, an artist may want to earn more and release additional versions, perhaps in a different material or size. This, in turn, can frustrate collectors. A landmark case was brought in the United States in 2012–2013, when collector Jonathan Sobel sued photographer William Eggleston. Sobel argued that Eggleston’s creation of new, enlarged prints of his iconic photographs had diminished the value of the original limited edition in his collection. The judge rejected the claim, ruling that reproducing the photographs in a new format did not constitute a breach of contract or fraud, thereby establishing in the United States an artist’s right to recreate works in altered form.

For sculpture, the international standard is roughly the same: an exclusive small edition may consist of 10–15 examples, while a large edition may reach 150–250. A few artist’s proofs are usually added to the main edition, sometimes up to 10%. They are marked differently from the regular edition. Finally, there is a third category, designated by Roman numerals: works produced hors commerce (HC), or “out of commerce”—pieces intended not for retail sale, but for the artist’s personal use, gifts, exhibitions, or archives. There are fewer of these, making them the most expensive. All such works should also be accompanied by certificates of authenticity.

Yet unrecorded examples from the estates of various sculptors continue to surface. Bronze casting is a labor-intensive process involving several intermediate stages, and it leaves behind numerous auxiliary molds that can often be reused—unless the artist deliberately destroyed them. Moreover, many sculptors do not cast their own works, instead using the same foundries, which can make life considerably easier for heirs if they decide to produce “posthumous editions.” When it comes to the works of Soviet sculptors, whose marking practices were not shaped by the discipline imposed by nineteenth-century French marchands, the market can become something of a Wild West, with considerable confusion possible.

Experts agree that the market for editioned works of art operates in a fragile equilibrium built on trust in both the artist and the seller, the moral and ethical integrity of the process, and scarcity. The decisive factors should be comprehensive provenance documentation and certificates of authenticity, as well as careful examination of the broader circumstances surrounding a sculptor’s estate and any complications specific to it. Maintaining the integrity of the editioned art market requires constant vigilance and transparency from all participants in order to preserve both the artistic and investment value of the work.

An example of professional practice in the Russian market is the work of Dashi Gallery, the gallery representing sculptor Dashi Namdakov. “In European practice, an ‘original’ bronze sculpture is considered to be one produced in a limited edition. As a rule, this means no more than eight examples, as well as up to four artist’s proofs (AP), which are not offered for general commercial sale. Dashi Namdakov follows established international practice: his sculptures are produced in an edition of eight plus four APs,” says gallery director Karina Paulkina. “Each cast has an individual number, is signed by the artist, and is accompanied by a certificate of authenticity specifying the individual number and the total edition size. Our workshop maintains archival documentation for every number, recording the date of casting, the foundry, the owner, and the history of each individual example. Namdakov began maintaining this system of marking and issuing certificates from the very earliest stages of his career.”