Bustamante Antiques Show Greets Springtime

by Joy DeWeese-Wehen

Lavish arrangements of spring flowers brightened the spirits of visitors to the Bustamante April antiques show held on April 2-5 at San Francisco's Concourse Exhibition Center, near the Design Center.

The idea that a winter depressed by El Niño and its endless storms and floods might finally be over seemed to cheer up collectors and open up their checkbooks because—with some exceptions—dealers reported that they had a profitable show. Mirrors, clocks, decorative accessories, quality furniture, and jewelry sold particularly well.

As this was San Francisco, showgoers were greeted by the exotic smells of caffé latte, espresso, and cappuccino, as well as a whiff of the more familiar, indescribable antique show "perfume," compounded of flowers, lavender wax, lemon oil, silver polish, old wood, mothballs, and—let's face it—a touch of mustiness.

This Bustamante show is a pleasant surprise for those who only remember the early days when the shows were held in San Francisco's Brooks Hall, a gloomy underground space in the Civic Center, and were devoted to collectibles and middle-grade, not-always-antique, antiques. Now, a score or more of the dealers bring items that compare favorably in quality and provenance to any front-ranking gallery in the country and would be perfectly at home in New York City's armory show or San Francisco's Fall Antiques Show.

Of course, with over 125 dealers, there are endless rows of irresistible booths displaying everything from rhinestone costume jewelry, Kewpie dolls, lone soup spoons, and tired tablecloths to paintings by unknown artists and furniture of unknown parentage. But these dealers never lack a small crowd of eager, hopeful customers pawing through their merchandise. After all, who knows whether there might be lurking in those dozens of boxes and trays of flatware a single teaspoon by Paul Revere (which, even more remarkably, has not yet been spotted by any other collector). These booths are part of the attraction of a huge, something-for-everybody antiques show. Transplanted collectors from the Midwest and the New York and Pennsylvania countryside descend upon them with little yips of nostalgia.

On the other hand, the clients at the high-end dealers' displays are not there for nostalgia or a good time. They are serious and knowledgeable collectors or important Jackson Square dealers, such as Tom Livingston or Mike Weller, who "would never miss a show." Many private customers zero in on booths of the dealers they have dealt with for years, knowing they will find something special in their field of interest.

A good example of highly specialized expertise is the fine and decorative arts of Imperial Russia at Le Caucase, presided over by the genial Belgian scholar and connoisseur Francis J. Boseret, grandson of a Belgian ambassador to Russia. The booth dazzles with glittering precious metals and the rich medieval hues of old religious icons.

Icons and samovars are Boseret's specialty, and he brought some fine examples to the show from his shop in Santa Clara, California. Samovars, in spite of their imposing size, are a favorite collecting field. In fact, just an hour before Boseret had sold one that was to be shipped to the buyer's home in New Jersey.

Everyone knows that a samovar, usually kept on a sideboard in the dining room, is a Russian urn filled with hot water that simmers all day long over a small spirit lamp; the boiling water is used to make tea in the small matching teapot that sits atop the urn. But only serious collectors know that the urn and the pot always bear different makers' marks; the same metalsmith does not make both. (Anyone who has ever traveled by train in Russia will remember the battered, everyday samovar bubbling away at the end of every railroad car for the passengers to brew tea when they felt like it.)

Boseret was particularly proud of an unusual silver-plated samovar (they are usually of brass or sometimes an elegant gilt silver) made between 1825 and 1855. Priced at $4750, its unusual bell shape ranked it as of museum quality.

Near Le Caucase was the attractive booth of Ancient Times, located in San Diego County. "Ancient" was open to interpretation, as the firm specializes in European porcelain such as Meissen and KPM, but its real eye-catcher was Bohemian glass. There was a time in the 1930's and '40's when Bohemian glass was a favorite with collectors; now it's becoming popular again, and the prices reflect it. An amber goblet incised with a stag was priced at $495, while a much rarer item, a circa 1875 hand-painted tumbler with a multicolored scene of a royal procession, commanded $895.

Talk about specialization, Bob and Berniece Bannatyne of The Victorian-Decorative Arts Shop, San Carlos, California, sell only the furniture and artifacts of the Victorian era in America, such as Fulper bowls and Hunzinger furniture. George Hunzinger, a German cabinetmaker who came to Brooklyn, New York, in the 1850's, specialized in fantastic chairs. His favorite medium was bamboo, either simulated from other woods or the real thing. Its lumps and bumps afforded him unlimited opportunities for whimsical flights of fancy, and a chair's comfort seemed to be the least of his concerns. Nowadays, according to the Bannatynes, Hunzinger furniture is catnip to collectors, and they offered for $4900 an extraordinary chair that combined ladder-like ribs with carved women's heads.

The Burton Collection, San Francisco, dealers in fine and estate jewelry, had a charming micro-mosaic brooch in the shape of a key "to unlock the heart of a lover." Probably made in Rome during the first quarter of the 19th century, it was tagged $1600. Most unusual was a pair of filigree wheel-shaped earrings from Portugal, made in the typical Iberian fineness of 19k gold, priced at $1200. A really good buy at $750 was a brown and cream dragon-form jade pendant surrounded by a gold frame studded with diamonds.

After trudging up and down the aisles of this big antiques show—comfortable shoes are a must—the name of one booth will strike a collector as almost too wryly appropriate, but what Antique Habit specializes in is not a habit with the average antiques lover: Victorian lighting. This means gas chandeliers, and the more over-the-top ornate they are, the better. Back them up with Scottish tartan wallpaper and some stags' heads, and you could be taking tea with Queen Victoria at Balmoral.

Antique Habit's proprietors, Jerry and Betsy Goldman of Santa Rosa, California, are always eager to share their knowledge of what to look for in a gas chandelier. Original finish is very important, as is excellent condition and no missing components. These factors do not coincide very often, but when they do, the price is going to be strong.

Meeting those criteria, a five-arm silver-plated chandelier with hammered body and crown tops to the deeply etched glass bowls was $7000, and another chandelier from the period, circa 1880, with six arms, a wonderful patina, and a pierced brass body, was even pricier at $7500. But there were some examples for the budget-minded, such as a three-arm Renaissance Revival model with its original black and green finish and pendants in the shape of Maltese crosses; it cost only $3900.

In a show of this size there are dozens and dozens more dealers who must go unmentioned, though many of them have very enticing wares. There was vintage costume jewelry at Something Different; a roomful of Bakelite from Pam Lee; very good paintings, including a George DeMont Otis oil of the High Sierras ($6000), at Korb Fine Arts, Orange, California; a big selection of Taxco silver from Jeff Mattson; and an astonishing array of Christmas tree brooches from the last hundred years from Barbara Singer. Tsujimoto Antiques, San Francisco, had 19th-century Japanese suiteki, or water droppers, at around $100 each and stunningly simple Japanese chawan, or tea bowls for the tea ceremony, at $100 to $200 each. The list could go on and on.

Perhaps the show is best summed up by the name of a Santa Monica, California, shop, Gallimaufry (meaning a hodgepodge or jumble). Owner Marie-Luise Pal describes her wares as objects of virtu from the 18th and 19th centuries, which covers a diverse field ranging from fans, lorgnettes, snuffboxes, and vinaigrettes to posy holders, architects' instruments, etuis, and chatelaines. (A chatelaine is an arrangement of chains pinned to the waist, from which hangs everything from keys and watches to magnifying glasses and scissors to smelling salts; an etui is an oval cylindrical case that also is suspended from the chatelaine, but it contains a complete collection of Lilliputian instruments, such as a tiny gold pencil with matching three-leaved ivory aide memoire, a button hook, and an agate seal for letters.)

Gallimaufry's wares may be small, but one can run up a respectable bill very quickly by succumbing to such things as an 18th-century French etui of ormolu-decorated moss agate ($3750) and a chatelaine in its original shagreen case ($3500). All the chatelaine lacked was a miniature umbrella, since by the time showgoers were ready to leave the concourse, it was raining again.