The problem with provenance

Collectors love a good story and will often pay a premium for genuine, authenticated items. But as Roger Field explains, provenances can be frustratingly difficult to verify and just as tough to disprove

- Roger Field

PROVENANCE, provenance, provenance. This collecting phrase might have much the same ring and price-boosting effect on antiques and collectables as property's much-quoted location, location, location' but, unlike the latter, it comes with various caveats. Before you start quibbling, today's brilliant location is not in itself a guarantee of future perfection, as all it takes is the tap of a planning officer's e-signature to transform a location' plus into a blighted minus as a new road or housing development is plonked outside your back door. But try as sellers might to obfuscate and dissemble in their sales particulars, it is blinking obvious come viewing day if a property is in a great location, and worth a lot more, or not.

Provenances can be more complex, not least as the ungodly have been faking them to boost values for as long as they have been faking antiques themselves. The ancient Greeks merrily carved statues purportedly made by even more ancient Greeks to sell to their new Roman masters. I can picture an ancient Roman Del Boy cheerfully 'up-pricing' a bit of gaudy jewellery to a gullible-looking customer: "Honest guv, this was taken off that strumpet Cleopatra's body just after the snake got her. My life on it! This knife was used to kill Caesar." And, after a couple of generations of repetition, risible tosh morphs into value-enhancing history.

That's the problem with some provenances: they can be infuriatingly difficult to verify and just as hard to disprove. And we want to believe them as we all love a great story. Collectors will happily pay to add multiple zeroes to the price because Eric Clapton (genuinely) played on this guitar at that concert. Or for that particular sword that was no ifs, no buts used at Waterloo. That is where I am taking you next.