Sweet little lies

Gustav Klimt's Portrait of Elisabeth Lederer made headlines when it was sold last month, but behind the dizzying price and the magnificent artwork hides the story of an ingenious ruse to escape Nazi persecution

- Huon Mallalieu

THe results of last month's modern art sales at Sotheby's and Christie's in New York produced some extraordinary figures, testifying to the confidence of the market, but they should perhaps also be read as indications of the unsettled times that the world is experiencing. It is a truism that has often been expressed (frequently, but not only, by me) that, in difficult political and economic times, money will take refuge in art and artists that have achieved an assured status and a strong secondary market. 'Modern' is a weasel word; nothing remains modern forever. The leaders in these modern sales were almost all thoroughly established 20th-century figures, with some Impressionists and only a few from the present day.

For different reasons, it could be controversial to claim, as did some headlines, that Gustav Klimt's $236.320 million ($179.737 million) Portrait of Elisabeth Lederer (Fig 1) at Sotheby's is the most expensive modern work to have been sold at auction. More cautiously, others might prefer 'the second most expensive work of art', after the Leonardo Salvator Mundi, which reached $450.3 million at Christie's in 2017.