CQ1 Cahn’s Quarterly 4/2020 English Edition Editorial On the other hand, Cahn Contemporary has had (under the most difficult of circum- stances) a successful exhibition in Paris with important individual visits by leading fig- ures in Paris's contemporary art world. I am particularly grateful that Cahn Contempo- rary is now an official member of the Comité Professionnel des galleries d’art and will be included in FIAC's digital programme even this year. An exciting project this winter will be the preparation of a new large exhibi- tion space in the heart of Basel, dedicated to contemporary art projects combined with archaeological material – we will keep you updated on this. This issue of Cahn’s Quarterly presents an important collection of ancient silver, that of Christian and Hedy Schmassmann, who with the assistance of my former employ- ee, the archaeologist Gerburg Ludwig, pub- lished a beautiful catalogue. It is a plea- sure to accompany collections in this way. The catalogue is reviewed independent- ly by none other than Friederike Nau- Exhibiting at the Residenz, Highlights International Art Fair Munich 2020. Photograph: Michael Aust mann-Steckner, who was deputy director of the Römisch-Germanisches Museum in Cologne from 1994 until her retirement in 2019. We have our usual sales catalogue, selected by Ulrike Haase, as well as various pieces discussed in greater detail by Ger- burg Ludwig, Martin Flashar and myself. At the heart of this edition, however, lies an eight-page tribute to the memory of our cherished friend and colleague, John Rob- ert Guy, who sadly passed away on July 4, 2020. My sincere thanks go to all who con- tributed to this tribute with texts and pho- tographs. With it, we hope, if not to erect a monumentum aere perennius, at least to make tangible in a fairly lasting form, some of the important stations and outstanding achievements in Robert’s life. Dear readers Last October, we exhibited at Highlights Inter- national Art Fair Munich. It was a very pleas- ant experience, the fair being small but very fine – indeed most charming and exclusive and with thorough security and hygiene measures implemented. Our booth was literally inside the splendid late-sixteenth-century entrance lobby of the Residenz. There, my ancient sculpture of Dionysos looked towards a great Renaissance bronze of Artemis in the most suggestive way. The reception was most positive and business was solid. It shows that fairs are irreplaceable, though perhaps there should be fewer of them. Several weeks later, we presented the exhibi- tion Animals and Hybrids at the gallery as part of Antike in Basel , which much to our delight was attended by many old friends. It is clear that art lovers cannot be satisfied with even the most sophisticated of online devices. We all need the real thing. Nonethe- less, we are placing considerable emphasis on digitalization by redeveloping the website and strengthening our online presence. You will see our new digital face in the Spring.CQ Cahn’s Quarterly 4/2020 Discovered for You Looking over the Master’s Shoulder Ancient Goldsmithing Techniques Using self-made tools, the goldsmiths of An- tiquity worked mainly with gold sheet, which they hammered into the desired shape and cut to size with a blade or fine chisel. Sol- id casting was rarely an option owing to the overspill and sprue wastes, for which the ma- terial – often supplied by customers in the form of coins/a specific quantity – was sim- ply too dear. The other techniques for shap- ing and decorating gold included hammering it into a negative mould or over a positive model, modelling by means of a round stylus over a positive model, punching with a sharp negative punch (openwork technique) and striking with positive punches. Sturdier pieces might also be ornamented by having lines engraved into them with a gouge or burin, or appliqued onto them. Goldsmiths used a pointed stylus for drawing and the same tool, nudged along with gentle hammer blows, for chasing. They also had punches for strik- ing triangular, round, ring- or crescent-shaped ornaments. Two techniques imported from the East also had a crucial influence on ornamen- tation. One was filigree work: strips of gold sheet were twisted and then rolled between a piece of wood and another hard surface to form round or flat wires. These, either one- or two-ply, were then worked into rows of beads, spirals, coils or cords. The other was granu- lation, which entailed smelting tiny pieces of gold wire on a bed of charcoal dust to obtain granules. Both these and the wire were then attached to the piece of jewellery as decora- tion using a glue and copper-salt compound. The Argonaut saga of Jason, who with the help of Medea, daughter of the King of Col- chis (today’s Georgia), robs that kingdom of its Golden Fleece and brings it back to Thes- saly, tells of the importance of gold in Antiq- uity – and of the conflicts that its possession was liable to spark. When King Pelias refuses him the throne that was his promised reward, Jason has him slain, though it is he and Me- dea who are ultimately driven away. Rulers and sanctuaries hoarded gold, for exam- ple in the form of cast vessels. The Law of the Twelve Tables (5th cent. B.C.) attests to its im- portance in Rome, stipulating that the deceased were to be stripped of all their gold, with the exception of any gold used to fasten their teeth. The main gold deposits exploited in Antiquity were located in Upper Egypt, Nubia, Lydia, the Balkans, the Alps and in Spain. In 2004 re- searchers from the Ruhr University of Bochum discovered the oldest gold mine as yet known to us (4th mill. B.C.) in Sakdrisi in Georgia. Analyses of ancient gold objects reveal a silver content of between 1 and 25 per cent. If more silver was present, the alloy has a pale yellow colour and is termed electrum. Adding copper (25 per cent instead of the natural 2 per cent) resulted in a reddish hue, as is seen in Egyp- tian jewellery. The systematic purification of gold can be linked to the beginning of gold coin minting (7th/6th cent. B.C.). Purity in jewellery, meanwhile, continued to vary: Hel- lenistic and Roman jewellery had a fineness of 85–99 per cent (Ogden, 1992, 261-264). The Etruscans perfected this art with granules both large and miniscule. Separate parts could be joined together by welding, riveting or hinges. Rounded tools were used to smooth undecorated surfaces; a mixture of saliva and clay, chalk or fine sand served as polish. How the jewellery was worn can be observed on black-figure vases, coins, sculptures, reliefs and wall paintings. The items of jewellery on offer at the Cahn Gallery demonstrate some of the above tech- niques. The oval fibula (fig. 1) made of gold sheet was beaten into a mould and then crimped onto a bronze plate with pin spi- ral, pin and pin rest for attaching it. The box-mounted carnelian is surrounded by fil- igree work and granulation arranged in an oval: twisted wire with tiny granules on the inside surrounded by a row of granules, some of them with round wire encircling them. The remaining area is decorated with little wire arches arranged like scales with granules in between them, especially in the spandrels. The goldsmith who made the earrings (fig. 2) in openwork technique punched the disc and crosspiece out of gold sheet and then soldered them together. He then used triangular and crescent-shaped punches to form little calyx- es, and large, comma-shaped punches for the tendrils of the crosspiece. The middle ribs and tiny hooks for the stamens were drawn with a pointed stylus. In the mould-made depression in the middle of the piece is a sardonyx bead threaded onto a gold band. Underpinning this on the reverse is the vertical round wire that forms the hook. Attached to the crosspiece are Fig. 1: A TUTULUS FIBULA. W. 3.3 cm. Gold, bronze, carnelian. Roman, 4th-5th cent. A.D. CHF 4,600 By Gerburg Ludwig Fig. 2: A PAIR OF EARRINGS. H. 4.1 cm. Gold, sardonyx. Roman, 3rd cent. A.D. CHF 3,800 2CQ Cahn’s Quarterly 4/2020 four vertical strips of gold sheet that end in eyelets, each with a ring, a conical tube and a natural pearl on gold wire. The child’s bracelet (fig. 3) was hammered out of a silver blank to rather more than two thirds of a circle and the two termini rounded to form snakes’ heads. The goldsmith defined the wide-open eyes with a ring punch. The outline of all the scales, the double zigzag on the crown and the nostrils were all engraved. Fig. 3: A CHILD’S BRACELET WITH SNAKES’ HEADS. Dm. max. 4.2 cm. Silver. Greek, 5th cent. B.C. CHF 1,600 Fig. 4: A RING WITH EAGLE INTAGLIO. Dm. 1.3 cm. Gold, carnelian. Roman, 1st–3rd cent. A.D. CHF 3,200 My Choice By Jean-David Cahn A Bucchero Hydria When I look at this extraordinarily sturdy vessel, it immediately strikes me as highly unusual. I am surprised by the choice of shape – a truly Greek shape, the three handled hy- dria – as much as I am struck by the decision to use such a quintessentially Etruscan mode of manufacture as bucchero. The handles are strongly reminiscent of metal parallels from the Greek world, and this inspiration is also evident in the ornament, notably the applied tear-drop shapes so familiar from embossed examples in bronze. Obviously, the Etruscans were influenced by early hydriae seen or imported from Greece. However, something entirely autochthonous has been achieved, using a totally different system of aesthetics, with a visceral, powerful result. With the heavily potted walls of the vase, the relief decoration and stamped motifs initially seem quite coarse. One might think, at first glance, that the figural decoration is primi- tive, but not at all. It is a deliberate choice, a phenomenon we encounter so often in Etrus- A BUCCHERO HYDRIA WITH FIGURAL RELIEF DECORATION. H. 40 cm. Clay (Bucchero Pesante). Etruscan, ca. 550 B.C. Price on request can art. They were perfect masters, technical- ly, but frequently chose proportions at odds with contemporary Greek taste. Here the artist has created two different architectural planes. Warriors in profile are shown from the waist upwards, as if the shoulder of the vase acted as a window frame and the war- riors were marching past – an unusual con- cept. The application of a regular pattern of frontal female faces gives the impression the vase is looking at you, but at the same time exhibiting a separate plane behind. The fron- tal peplophoros on the rear, vertical handle confirms the different visual layers, render- ing this vase highly three-dimensional as an object and very alive. The vase wants to com- municate, although the narrative remains en- igmatic to us, as much of Etruscan art does. Only very few examples of monumental buc- chero vessels with such extensive relief deco- ration are known. This hydria was published by my father in 1975, and has remained in a Basel collection until now. 3 The remaining surface of the hoop was rough- ly smoothed and polished. An incised zigzag line can be seen in places. The child’s finger ring (fig. 4) was formed out of a plain hoop of gold sheet, which the gold- smith filled with a sand or clay core to stabi- lize it. This is evident from the various dents around the soldered-on box setting. The unu- sual size of the octagonally cut intaglio makes the weight of the hoop difficult to estimate, so that it cannot be ruled out that it was worked from solid gold. A gem-cutter engraved a striding eagle with a wreath in its beak into the top face of the intaglio. Further technical analyses using methods such as scanning electron microscopy or x-ray flu- orescence as well as written sources and ar- chaeological finds will provide us with further insights into the technological skills of ancient goldsmiths and the trade in gold jewellery. Bibliography: J. Ogden, Gold in Antiquity, in: Interdisci- plinary Science Reviews, vol. 17, 3, 1992, 261-270.CQ Cahn’s Quarterly 4/2020 The Collector’s Point of View A Passion for Ancient Silver tury B.C.? Or the Pontic rhyton, which with its expressive figural frieze in high relief showing scenes of combat by bearded, “barbaric” war- riors in long trousers it is impossible not to marvel at? And when admiring the elegance of the double-walled skyphos, whose outer wall is adorned with fine tendrils and grace- ful little birds, is it not the vine frieze on the Ara Pacis that instantly springs to mind? A wealthy Roman lady might have cherished the hand mirror with grip modelled on the knotty club of Hercules. And doubtless a Gallo-Ro- man family would have taken pride in their silver charger with broad floral rim and large central medallion weighing more than eleven (Roman) pounds. The most recent piece in the Schmassmann Collection is a comparative- ly delicate Sassanid dish dating from the 6th century, which, being adorned on the inside by a dancer festively clad in diadem, necklace, bracelets, anklets and fluttering veil, was per- haps a votive offering of the Anahita cult. While Gerburg Ludwig devotes one double page to each of the minor pieces, some espe- cially important works are accorded two. After naming each work, she specifies its probable place of origin, date, material, technique, size and weight. Also documented in some detail is the provenance, which only rarely can be traced any further back than the 1950s, some- thing that is not unusual for such (upper-class) everyday objects. The modalities of acquisition and possible mentions in publications are pre- sented in depth. After a brief text outlining the essentials, Ludwig embarks on a cautious, nu- anced description and brief appraisal of each object. She sets great store by their state of preservation and the manufacturing process, which is a theme close to the collector’s heart. The archaeological discourse complete with numerous, meticulously researched parallels is then presented in a separate section printed in a smaller typeface at the bottom of each page – a welcome treasure trove of information for the expert. Ludwig organizes the objects according to four themes: Everyday Life – Ornament: Protection and Vanity – Roman Dinner Par- ties – Drinking with the Persians, Greeks and Romans. This unusual, and at first rather per- plexing, ordering system – which silver object might not fall under the heading “Everyday G. Ludwig: Argentum – Silber aus der Antike. Die Sammlung Christian und Hedy Schmassmann 144 pages, 103 illustrations, 2 fold-out plates, Basel 2018 Review by Friederike Naumann-Steckner “Fashions in silver plate undergo marvellous variations owing to the vagaries of human taste, no kind of workmanship remaining long in favour. At one time Furnian plate is in de- mand, at another Clodian, at another Gratian […] at another time the demand is for embossed plate,” lamented the Roman officer and writer Pliny the Elder in his Natural History (XXXIII 139), underscoring all the more emphatical- ly the pleasure the Romans took in amass- ing beautiful old silver. It was this delight in collecting, the thrill of the protean forms this precious metal can take, that induced Chris- tian Schmassmann, with the critical support of his wife Hedy (1936-2018), to amass, within less than twenty years, more than fifty silver objects from Antiquity. In 2018 the collection was published in a most attractively designed catalogue authored by Gerburg Ludwig with the enthusiastic support of Jean-David Cahn. Selecting any one highlight from that work is not easy. Could it be the finely chased applique of Nike driving a quadriga from a northern Greek workshop of the late 6th cen- Friederike Naumann-Steckner was sci- entific advisor and then deputy director of the Römisch-Germanisches Museum in Cologne from 1985–2019. Over a period of many years, Christian and Hedy Schmassmann have built up a comprehensive col- lection of ancient silver objects. They frequently had occasion to share their passion with Jean-David Cahn, and it was during a conversation with him that the idea of cataloguing their collection first arose. A NIKE WITH QUADRIGA. H. 6.9 cm. Gilded silver sheet. Greek, 540-525 B.C. Sold Life” or “Ornament”? – soon turns out to be helpful, as it binds the objects together in groups. The customary chronological order, by contrast, would have resulted in confusion, given that objects acquired on the art market tend to lack the context that would be helpful in dating them, and that traditionally crafted artefacts in particular can only ever be allocat- ed to a very broad timespan. Ludwig prefaces the catalogue with an essay about the history of silver mining in the mines of the Laureion Mountains. Having read that piece, the reader cannot help but regret that it was not followed by another on the Romans’ silver mining ac- tivities in Spain, as described by Pliny (Natural History XXXIII 95–98). The catalogue also shines on account of Niklaus Bürgin’s outstanding colour photos. Each object is beautifully illuminated without any showy special effects. Because every en- graving, every graffito, every crack is visible, the viewer gets a feel for the statuettes’ and vessels’ plasticity. The interaction of superb objects and the art of photography allows the little appliques and busts to be reproduced at twice their actual size, while the magnificent charger does not suffer from being reduced by half to make it fit one of the fold-out plates. Only Jean-David Cahn’s praise for the “dynamic approach” of private collections in his foreword causes the museum professional to stumble, given that works of art in private hands tend to remain out of sight for many years – though admittedly, much the same could be said of the works languishing in storage at the museum. 4CQ Cahn’s Quarterly 4/2020 In Memoriam ing in the footsteps of the great Oxford scholar J. D. Beazley. We talked all night long – pho- tographs and sketches strewn across my floor – as he had to leave the next day. Thereafter, we were to remain good friends throughout our different careers and challenges. While in Athens, Guy composed his first pub- lication, a review of Kezia Knauer’s mono- graph on the recently acquired skyphos by the Triptolemos Painter in Berlin. Then, in late 1975, he returned to Oxford and embarked on a D.Phil. thesis at Lincoln College (supported by the Canada Council until 1978), under the gentle guidance of Professor Martin Robert- son. His subject was the cup-painter Douris, which he narrowed down to the painter's Late Manner and Followers. His path ahead on the Triptolemos Painter had been blocked by the work of Kezia Knauer and her promise of a forthcoming monograph (which never ma- terialised), while the situation proved much the same with Douris, since Diana Buitron finished a PhD thesis on the painter in 1976 (published in 1995, with a section on the Dou- rian followers drawn from Guy’s thesis). Both the Triptolemos Painter and Douris, however, I first met the Canadian scholar Robert Guy in 1974 in Oxford. He had just finished his MA thesis on the early 5th century B.C. Athenian red-figure vase-painter, the Triptolemos Paint- er, for the University of Cincinnati, and was on his way out to Athens to stay at the Amer- ican School of Classical Studies as a Canada Council Doctoral Fellow (he had done his first degree at Queens College, Kingston, Ontario). He came round to my room on the suitably named Museum Street and we began discuss- ing red-figure cup-painters. I think it was a revelation for both of us: Here was someone else with the same urge to study Athenian vases and in particular their painters, follow- were to stay with him as close friends for the rest of his life and his understanding of both continued to grow. Indeed, in 1981 he pub- lished an important article on a ram’s head rhyton decorated by the Triptolemos Painter and signed by the potter Charinos recently ac- quired by the Virginia Museum. He dealt thor- oughly with both potter and painter and in so doing made very important comments on both, in particular the connections with Douris and the Brygan circle, while also opening up our view of the specialist potter Charinos. The Dourian thesis was finished in 1982 but, like his MA thesis, it was never published. It is a fundamental work on a complex area of Ear- ly Classical vase-painting, providing insights into both painter and potter connections. It is therefore to be hoped that it, and its prede- cessor, can be made more widely available to students and scholars. The years in Oxford, 1975–1984, were crucial to the development of Guy’s talent: his extraor- dinary eye for style, his visual memory and his ability to reconstruct figures and scenes in his mind’s eye. There were two paths to this end, both driven by the intellectual desire to study By Dyfri Williams, Former Keeper of Greek and Roman Antiquities, British Museum, Research Fellow, Université libre de Bruxelles The Life and Work of John Robert Guy In Memory of John Robert Guy 1949-2020 Dyfri Williams (l.) and Robert Guy (r.) in the British Mu- seum, 2005. Robert is laughing and Dyfri is trying not to. Dear readers When looking at the contributions in this tribute to the memory of Robert Guy, one becomes aware of Robert’s enormous depth in his specific field. His generosity in shar- ing his unparalleled knowledge with others is repeatedly evident. One also senses that while he could be very witty, there was an unhappy current that accompanied him consistently throughout his life. The picture that emerges is of a rich per- sonality with a genius rarely seen, who influenced a generation of archaeologists worldwide in a very specific way. I am very grateful for these testimonials, because I would be the wrong person to comment as a colleague – our relationship was of a dif- ferent nature. The sense of loss is palpable. For decades, the study of Attic vase painting has dimin- ished alarmingly in the way it is taught and supported financially. The growing tendency to look at vases as mere containers ignores the wealth of information they can give us about mythology, as well as the societies that produced and used them. They are dia- lectic. And they are enchantingly beautiful. The remarkable intensity and density with which the largely uncelebrated ancient vase-painters and potters toiled in ancient Athens, is increasingly dismissed or ration- alized into obscurity. How ironic that this depth of evidence is not utilized in full, giv- en that we have so much written documen- tation from the epoch of this great civilisa- tion. Robert’s way of approaching vases should continue. Robert in the Galleries of Greek Vases at the Louvre, 2016. ICQ Cahn’s Quarterly 4/2020 as many Athenian vases as possible, especial- ly those unpublished or previously unknown. The first path was to study in detail the most important museum collections and to this end he began, from 1977, to work especially in the Réserve Campana of the Louvre. He made nu- merous joins and connections among the huge scatter of fragments stored there. He also made trips to the Getty to study their fast growing collection and began to travel to Rome to study the fragments in the Villa Giulia, and to continue the work begun by J.D. Beazley on the Italian part of the Campana collection. At the Villa Giulia Guy was similarly able to make many new connections between pieces there and elsewhere, charting further the diaspora of the truly immense Campana collection. Indeed, after his last visit in 1994 he began to enter- tain plans for producing a sequel to Beazley’s rightly famous Campana Fragments of 1933. The second research path for Guy was the study of private collections and the antiquities market. Among the growing private collec- tions that he visited regularly were those of Dr. Dietrich von Bothmer at the Metropolitan Museum of Art in New York and Dr. Herbert Cahn in Basel, both composed almost entire- ly of fragments. At the same time he began to follow antiquities sales in London and saw all the material that went through the market, whether in auction houses or with dealers – an exposure that quickly embraced other Europe- an and American markets. His extraordinarily gifted eye for the style of individual Athenian vase-painters, from the 6th century to the 4th, soon made him an important resource to ac- quiring museums, private collectors and those in the antiquities trade. The ethics of major dealers was yet to be seriously questioned, while the role of the academic in assessing an- tiquities on the market, whether for authentic- ity or attribution, had a perfectly respectable history, although the world was changing fast. The unacknowledged but vital importance of this element of Guy’s work was the way that it enabled him to make connections and joins between old Campana vases and the new- ly emerged fragments that were the result of illegal “gleanings” around tombs excavated for Campana on his property at Cerveteri in the early 19th century. For in this way Guy was actually giving back to innocent material something of its context and history. In parallel to his work with Athenian vases, we should note the invitation in 1983 by Dale Trendall, the doyen of South Italian vase-painting, to accompany him on a tour of museums in southern Italy: Guy was support- ed by grants from Oxford’s Meyerstein Fund and London’s Institute of Classical Studies. He spent some five very happy months helping Trendall, then 74 years old, with all the exi- gencies of travel, while both learning directly from a master and enjoying his impish spirit, in many ways so like Guy’s own. In 1984 Guy was appointed Associate Curator of Ancient Art at the Art Museum of Princeton University. Under the benevolent eye of the Director, Allen Rosenbaum, Guy was to make important acquisitions for the Museum and to complete a redisplay of the highlights of the collection, proving himself a museum man as well as a research scholar. His major acquisi- tions for the Museum, either by purchase or gift, range across the full spectrum of ancient art, including large-scale marble sculptures, bronzes, glass, terracotta vases and figurines. Among the important sculptures worthy of note were a Classical Greek gravestone of the boy Mnesikles, part of a Roman funerary monument of a charioteer, the head of a priest of the imperial cult from a votive pillar, and the fine head of a boy of Antonine date. He also acquired, of course, many Greek vases and fragments of all periods, including from the best moment of Athenian vase-painting in the early 5th century B.C. One of the finest Athenian vases purchased by Princeton during Guy’s tenure was to cause controversy both in and beyond the world of a curator. Indeed, it was eventually returned to Italy as having been looted and then illegally exported by the dealer Robert Hecht in 1989. This was a psyk- ter (wine cooler) which Guy recognised as an early work of the Kleophrades Painter. Dietrich von Bothmer in the Metropolitan Museum of Art and Marion True of the J. Paul Getty Muse- um had both declared it a fake, but Guy rightly ignored these somewhat spiteful opinions. His knowledge of the vase-painter was deep – he had lectured on him in 1979 and was to do so again in 1991 – and his judgement was ab- solutely sound. His willingness to harry such “opponents" always reminds me of the lion on a fragment in Herbert Cahn’s collection that he attributed to the Berlin Painter (HC 1753). In many ways, this period at Princeton was perhaps the most stable and productive part of Guy's increasingly peripatetic career. Not only did he set in motion the important, multi- authored publication of the museum’s Greek sculpture collection (Greek Sculpture 1994), but he also lectured for Princeton’s Department of Art and Archaeology, held a graduate seminar on Archaic Athenian pottery in 1987, and su- pervised Liz Langridge-Noti’s important thesis on the Eucharides Painter. During these years he also began to collect pottery fragments for himself, recognising their special value as a teaching aid. His collection was later to go to the Harvard Art Museums, where it was pub- lished in 1997 by Aaron Paul. In addition, Guy lectured abroad, in Toronto (1984), London (1985), Copenhagen (1987), Lausanne (1987), New York (1987 and 1991) and Paris (1990). In the autumn of 1991, as his U.S. work per- mit ended, he was offered the first Humfry Payne Senior Research Fellowship at Corpus Christi College, Oxford. This seemed an ideal position, freeing him to concentrate on re- search alone, but was perhaps something of a mixed blessing, since there had been opposi- tion to the source of the funding and the lack of open competition for the post. At the end of 1991 he published a short but important piece in the Ackland Museum’s Quarterly on the black-figure Bucci Painter, thus demon- strating the range of his knowledge. In 1992 he was invited to join a publication project of vases in the Vatican with François Lissarrague and François Villard. This ran until 1995, but was then suspended. In parallel, his work on private collections, which had included entries for a 1984 catalogue of the Borowski collec- tion, culminated in entries for the catalogue of the 1994 exhibition of the Fleischman Col- lection at the J. Paul Getty Museum. Writing, however, and even the submission for pub- lication of what he had given as lectures or papers at conferences, was always extremely difficult for Guy. He was a perfectionist in his language, but also someone who was inhibited by a serious reluctance to let anything go – the result perhaps of his constant re-thinking and re-assessment. When, in 1998, the first term of his Oxford fel- lowship ended, Guy declined to renew it as the origin of the majority of the funding had been revealed to be the by then notorious dealer Robin Symes. Feeling betrayed and disap- Fragments of a red-figure kalpis attributed to the Berlin Painter. Greek, Attic, ca. 500-490 B.C. Cahn Collection, Basel (HC 1753). Robert Guy (top row far right) in Corinth, 1975. IICQ Cahn’s Quarterly 4/2020 pointed, Guy decided it would be improper to continue. With his prospects thus self-dimin- ished, he moved to New York in 1999 to work with Michael Ward, a private antiquities deal- er. He was there until 2002, when he moved back to Oxford to concentrate on his research, while also acting as a private art consultant. In 2009, Jean-David Cahn invited him to join the Cahn Gallery in Basel and was appointed cu- rator of Herbert Cahn’s large collection of pot- tery fragments. Guy had known Jean-David's father well and had indeed become very much a family friend; he also served as an advisor to the Gallery. With a secure position in Basel, Guy was once again able to think more freely about scholarly matters and he began speak- ing again at conferences – Lausanne (2012), Graz (2013) and Munich (2014). In these lec- tures many of his important trains of thought were brought into focus, whether about the these might belong to- gether in what he some- times called a “whisper join," one without any point of physical con- tact. It fast emerged that a telephone conversation would be much clearer, and so I called him with our respective fragments in front of us. Turn them over, he said; there should be a band on the reserved surface that looks as if it has been worked over with a spatula to make the clay more glossy. He had described perfectly the surface of the sherds in my hands: he was right. As with the philolo- gist’s emendation, Robert’s join (which was the basis of further significant discoveries) is re- corded in the catalogue merely with the three letters of his name between square brackets. I first met Robert in Paris at the Euphronios colloquium organized by Martine Denoyelle at the Ecole du Louvre in October 1990. Later that winter I saw him again in New York when he came up for the day from Princeton. One of his afternoon errands was to examine careful- ly the Pan Painter’s impressive column-krater now in the Antikenmuseum Basel, which was passing through the market. My task was to supply ashtray and coffee. To a novice in the field of archaeology, Robert was generous in taking the time to show me the extensive preliminary sketch that he had found on the obverse, and to explain the attribution. More than twenty-five years later, he extended the same generosity to two graduate students of Philologists regard the successful emendation of a thorny classical text as one of the disci- pline’s highest achievements: it requires excep- tional sensitivity to the author’s thought and expression. In print, however, only the trans- position or substitution of one or two letters is recorded. For the archaeologist specializing in vase-painting, the ability to recognize the hand of an ancient artist even in the tiniest scrap re- quires a no less intimate level of understand- ing. Very few scholars have had this preternat- ural skill. Robert Guy was one of them. During the months of collaboration on Michael Padgett’s exhibition on the Berlin Painter, Rob- ert was at his very best. Only he would have recognized the hand of the Berlin Painter on an amphora fragment in Herbert Cahn’s collection (HC 1736) and realized from the small scale of drawing that the extremely unusual shoulder panel decoration recurred on fragments that Dietrich von Bothmer had donated to Emory University. He emailed with the suggestion that mine from Emory. They not only met with him in Basel but were fortunate to exchange emails; and he continued to ask after them. Robert’s magisterial grasp of Beazley’s struc- ture for vase-painters, indeed his refinement of it, is widely acknowledged. It enabled him, for example, to identify simply from a telephone description the red-figure psykter with a sym- posium (that he later acquired for Princeton) as a work of the early Kleophrades Painter. His mastery came in no small part from his constant exposure to original pieces of pottery as they passed through the market, where he could refine yet further his feel for the charac- ter of the glaze and the way incision, relief line, dilute or added glaze were applied. The level of trust widely placed in his discretion by dealers was in itself a remarkable achievement. It en- abled him to see practically every piece of Attic pottery in their hands, and often to record con- textual information. Equally widespread was the respect he enjoyed among museums and collectors, particularly in the United States. His attributions provided a reliable basis for them as well as for countless scholars. Over thirty odd years of friendship, it was not only Robert’s academic precision that was memorable, but perhaps more importantly, his love and respect for objects, and the cultivat- ed pleasure he took in sharing them. We spoke often by telephone during his last illness, oc- casionally in reminiscence about giants of our field such as Cornelius and Emily Vermeule and Dietrich von Bothmer, and the dealers of their day. “We have been fortunate to spend time with them,” he said thoughtfully. The same for me is true of Robert: he is the only archaeol- ogist from whom I always learned something. By Jasper Gaunt, London Fragment of an amphora by the Berlin Painter, HC 1736, obverse and reverse. A Preternatural Skill potters Syriskos and Pistoxenos, together with their painters, or the interconnections between the Brygan Group and the Triptolemos Painter, while with his precious insights he also opened up many new avenues for future scholars. At the end of 2014, however, Guy had to retire from the Gallery, although he was soon re-em- ployed by a Basel private collector, catalogu- ing his collection of vases. It was the Princeton project of a special exhibi- tion on the Berlin Painter that gave Guy a final, joyful sense of purpose. Michael Padgett, Guy’s successor at Princeton, had developed the idea and at the end of 2015 asked Guy to collabo- rate with an essay, but it quickly became clear that Guy’s long term attachment to the painter and his unrivalled knowledge of all his pre- served works meant that he would be required to do much more. Indeed, he was to become joint author with Padgett of the complete cata- logue of the painter’s works, a prodigious work of immense connoisseurship. His essay, “In the Shadow of the Berlin Painter,” dedicated to his inspirational Cincinnati teacher Cedric Boulter, showed exactly what he could produce. Its perceptiveness, precision and total mastery of the field are all the result of what Beazley had called “keen and patient scrutiny." He was to make important contributions to one last exhi- bition, that on the potter and painter Exekias, in Zurich in 2018–19. These included an excur- sus, with Martin Bürne, on his detailed obser- vations of an Exekian amphora rim. But, little more than a year later, he passed away. His eye and mind were capable of so very much more, yet we have his many, many attributions and joins which, together with his precious publi- cations, are such a fitting reminder and memo- rial of the Robert we knew. IIICQ Cahn’s Quarterly 4/2020 director Allen Rosenbaum that I be considered as his replacement. Allen later confirmed that Robert’s endorsement was a deciding factor, and twenty-nine years later I am still grateful to both of them for giving me my career. When I decided to organize the exhibition, The Berlin Painter and his World (fig. 1), I felt that the catalogue must include a thor- ough re-examination of the oeuvre of that important but anonymous Athenian artist, building on the attributions of Beazley and subsequent scholars. As I came to realize what a huge project I was undertaking, I be- gan to ask Robert’s opinion of this or that piece. Although at times an unfaithful cor- respondent – he would disappear for weeks when afflicted by the "black dog" – he took an increasing interest in the project, and we began exchanging daily images and emails. One day I simply told him that he was now the co-editor of the Berlin Painter’s revised corpus raisonné, and would be credited on the title page. Fragment by fragment we worked through the list, often arguing about what new works should be admitted to the canon and which relegated to the “Salon des Refusés.” He also agreed to contribute an es- say on the expanding oeuvre of the Paint- er of Goluchow 37; I read it again recently and was struck by its insights. Whenever I was uncertain, or needed a sounding board, he was there. He was a rock of patience and persistence, and a refuge from ignorance and self-doubt. He never let me down, and I shall always be grateful to him. People like Robert Guy are special. He deserves to be remem- bered, and to assume a place of honor in the long history of classical scholarship. By J. Michael Padgett, Ph.D., Curator of Ancient Art, Princeton University Art Museum The Princeton Years I have nothing bad to say about my lamented Doktorvater. Dietrich von Bothmer made his own considerable contributions to the field of Attic vase-painting, and during his long ca- reer he accomplished more as a curator and published many more works of scholarship than Robert Guy. Robert could have done more... He knew this as well as anyone, and he could not fully mask the pain that it caused him. He was a proud man – deservedly so – but sometimes he was his own worst enemy, as when he would agree to give a paper at a scholarly conference but then fail to submit it for publication. How many of us honestly feel that we have accomplished as much as we might have? In Robert’s case, his brilliance was repeatedly proven with one attribution after another — and indeed, the occasional article — until he was acknowledged by all as the finest vase connoisseur of his generation. His iconographic observations were learned but conservative; it was in style that his au- thority became magisterial. I cannot tell you how many times I labored over an attribution that I then proudly shared with Robert, only to learn that he had been there ahead of me, sometimes by decades! He revered Beazley, and did not lightly contradict him. He himself considered Dyfri Williams to be the leading scholar in the field. If he fought duels, he also collected friends, for he was handsome and debonair, with an easy manner and a wicked sense of humor. He and I were always sneak- ing off for a smoke. I loved him, and so did my wife Judy. His generosity was limitless, and he was always welcoming to students. When he decided to leave Princeton in 1991 to become a Senior Research Fellow at Corpus Christi, Oxford, he recommended to Princeton I met J. Robert Guy in the late 1980s, when I was a graduate student at Harvard and work- ing at the Museum of Fine Arts, Boston. At that time he was the Associate Curator of An- cient Art at the Princeton University Art Mu- seum. I wanted to study Attic vase-painting, but my academic advisor, Emily Vermeule, was not a vase specialist. She consequently asked Dietrich von Bothmer, the Curator of Greek and Roman Art at the Metropolitan Museum of Art, to guide my dissertation re- search. I probably wrote Robert with queries about this pot or that cup, and he may have passed through the MFA at some point, as did a rising young curator named Carlos Picón, who was then Curator of Western Antiquities at the San Antonio Museum of Art. Robert had a formidable reputation as “the new Beazley,” and was said to possess Sir J. D. Beazley’s leg- endary acumen and visual memory. He, too, was able to recognize joining vase fragments in different museums, and to detect the hand of Makron or the Kleophrades Painter from no more than an ankle and a scrap of himation. I worked hard to improve my own knowledge and eye; I revered Emily, but I wanted to be a vase man like Robert Guy. That I felt this way while under Dietrich’s tutelage was awkward, as he was jealous of Robert’s rapid rise. It would infuriate him whenever Robert point- ed out that a fragment in Dietrich’s personal collection not only could be attributed to a prominent vase-painter, but joined another piece in a different cabinet. Sometimes Robert would donate fragments that joined vases in the Met, as when he filled critical lacunae in a splendid red-figure amphora by the Berlin Painter; the one with a citharode that they gave to Italy. This required Dietrich to write polite letters of thanks to the donor, when he would sooner have seen him taken down a peg. “New Beazley!” A snapshot from the opening of The Berlin Painter and his World, 2017, at Princeton. Michael Padgett (left), Allen Rosenbaum (middle), Robert Guy (right). Herbert Cahn (left), Vera Slehofer (middle) and Robert Guy (right) in front of Blackwell's Rare Books, Oxford, August 1987. IVCQ Cahn’s Quarterly 4/2020 J. Robert Guy was Associate Curator of An- cient Art at the Princeton University Art Mu- seum from 1984 to 1991. In addition to his impressive scholarly training and credentials, his broad knowledge of ancient art and his gift as a specialist in Greek vase painting, I knew Robert was a perfect fit for the muse- um. From the job interview I was very much taken with, and reassured by, his curiosity and the interest and excitement he found in even a minor object. Robert and I always looked forward to Herbert Cahn's visit every year. This courtly, sympa- thetic gentleman epitomized the old school scholar/dealer. And incidentally, Herbert and I also had the same birthday, Aquarians. But it was not during one of these visits that Prince- ton made a memorable purchase, memorable for many reasons, from the Cahn Gallery. Rob- ert was followed on his return from a buying trip to Europe by two enormous crates filled with fragments of a Clazomenian sarcophagus, most no bigger than a foot but of a density and surprising weight that belied their size. I was understandably alarmed as the restoration of the sarcophagus seemed an overwhelming and expensive undertaking with no guarantee of the outcome. I told Robert that this would be his "Egyptian wall." I was referring to the gift of an Egyptian wall, mostly plaster, which By Allen Rosenbaum, Director Emeritus, Princeton University Art Museum Rim of a painted sarcophagus. Ceramic. East Greek, Cla- zomenae, ca. 500-475 B.C. Courtesy Princeton Universi- ty Art Museum (y1990-9). A Memorable Purchase had been given to Princeton by the Metropoli- tan Museum of Art in the 1940s and was never assembled, instead filling countless shelves in storage. But Robert sought to calm me and re- assured me that he would raise the money to restore the sarcophagus. And then he left for Oxford. Robert was much loved by everyone in the museum and although often something of a handful and a bit of a prima donna, he was mostly indulged. He in turn was very hap- py and thrived at Princeton. I often wonder how things would have turned out had Robert remained at the museum. But the position at Oxford was too grand – a dream come true for Robert – for the museum to make a counter- offer, or indeed any effort to have Robert stay on. And we were happy for him. I did, eventually, raise the funds for the res- toration of the sarcophagus, which was over- seen by Michael Padgett who succeeded Rob- ert. And while Robert couldn't possibly have known how it would turn out when done, after three years, he was vindicated. The sar- cophagus is magnificent, one of the prides of the collection. An amusing footnote to the story is that a fragment of a very fine Egyp- tian wall painting was in one of the crates and we thought, naively, it had been included as a gift. Alas, it was there by accident and we had to buy it. By Ariel Herrmann, Independent Scholar A Life-long Friend The first time I ever heard of Robert Guy was from Herbert Cahn, some time in the late 1970s. Dr. Cahn spoke to me about the young scholar’s dedication and his uncanny skill as an attributionist. I got to know Robert in person soon afterwards, during his visits to study vase fragments at the Museum of Fine Arts, Boston. We had close friends in common from his student days at Oxford, Carlos Picòn and Brian Aitken. Robert was a boyish, even waif-like figure who captivated everyone. Al- though he radiated seriousness, he had a sub- versive streak and a cheeky sense of humour. We met often in New York during his years at the Princeton University Art Museum, where he had a supportive director in Allen Rosen- baum. I sensed that it was refreshing for him to deal with the practicalities of museum work and with ancient art outside his immediate specialty. He was able to acquire many small, interesting objects and some important ones, greatly raising the level of a once-dormant collection. He even began to look beyond the Mediterranean world, developing a taste for (what else?) Mayan painted pottery. His ad- vice influenced a generation of collectors. After Jean-David Cahn persuaded him to settle in Basel, Robert’s enthusiasm for academic work seemed to revive. Adrienne Lezzi also gave him constant encouragement and support. The Ber- lin Painter exhibition, organized by Michael Padgett at the Princeton Museum, was a high point, and an opportunity for Robert to collabo- rate with Dyfri Williams and Jasper Gaunt, and to listen, at the congress, to another long-time friend and colleague, François Lissarrague. In recent years, Robert’s presence was one of the things that drew me to Basel. As a friend he was subtle, intuitive and utterly discreet. He will be terribly missed. International Vase Symposium Amsterdam, 1984. VNext >