Under the Hammer

Although attendance at Christie's evenings sales is limited mostly to serious buyers, the day sales are open to anyone. Kevin and I were pleasantly surprised with how gracious and welcoming Christie's was to us. We first checked with their reception desk about a half-hour before the sale, and the women there told us that the morning auction had not yet concluded, but we were free to wait and peruse the catalog or have a cup of coffee in the lobby. We browsed through the catalog and picked pieces that we would bid on, had we the funds.
A tall gentleman presided over the entry to the stairs on the next level, which led to the auction room. He was dressed in a nicely tailored suit and had an air of John Gielgud about him, or perhaps of that of a well-trained English butler--but he was quite polite and warm. Even though we felt a little like riff-raff who had wandered in from the street, he made us feel welcome. 
"Should we sit anywhere in particular," we asked. "We're not buyers; we just want to observe."
"You may sit wherever you like," he replied.
"But we may leave before the auction is over."
"That's fine," he said. "People come and go all the time."
So it was first-come, first-served, and we made our way up the staircase, which had a projection of Monet's "Water Lilies" on the steps. (I should have taken more photos, but I felt slightly intimidated in that space, or you would see more pictures. I didn't want to act like a rube tourist!)
We were glad we came early, because we got to watch them set up,
testing the microphones, phones, and Internet connections.

Some of the artwork that was for sale was displayed on the walls, including one Chagall.

When the auction got underway, the room began to fill up, and eventually there was only standing room. From our viewpoint near the back, we could watch it all. Christie's employees, sitting at long desks, lined the front and side of the room. They were in phone contact with remote bidders. In the front of the room was a screen that displayed the lot number and photo of the art on offer with the current bid listed in several currencies, led by British pounds and American dollars. At the back of the room was a screen to display online bids. And, presiding over it all from a lectern in front, was the auctioneer. 

He was a handsome, patrician-looking, well-dressed professional who carefully observed the bidders in the room (identified by their red paddles with white numbers), as well as the telephone bank, and the online screen. With each bid, he called out, "It's in the room for 60,000 pounds," or "It's online at the Czech Republic for 65,000," announcing which potential buyer had placed the last offer. The drama began to build. When the bidding got intense, it went back and forth from the room to the back screen that emitted a bright pink flashing light with the latest online contender. Occasionally, a hush fell in as we waited to see if an online or telephone bidder was still in the game. It was great theater! Then BANG! It was down with the "hammer"! (However, the hammer wasn't a large gavel; it was quite small. The auctioneer held it in his hand.)

There were works by Renoir, Degas, Picasso, Rodin, Léger, and more, and soon my head was spinning. We were surprised how caught up we got in the moment, even though we were not bidding, and we couldn't possibly afford to! Christie's reported the day sale took in 16,723,000 British pounds (about $21,900,206 U.S.), including the premium paid to Christie's by the buyer. 

But proving once again that he is much better at writing humor than I am, Kevin wrote the following email to a friend: 

Hi, Ernie,

Rachel and I spent yesterday afternoon helping Christie's sell some art. Scribblings, really. Dabs of color that you have to stand back from to put any sense to. I think that those pluety-nosed people doing the bidding call the work "Impressionism." Like it was a religion or something.

Here I am offering my opinion on a Chagall and helping to get the hanging and lighting "just right." It sold for more than our net worth. Even with my help, they didn't get the thing level.

Yeah, right, Kevin.

I hope Christie's doesn't mind that joke, because it was an experience I would not want to have missed!

Addendum: It's interesting that at the day sale, the best dressed people were Christie's employees. (Photos of artwork are from Christie's catalog.)  I also want to say thank you to my sister-in-law Carol, who attended a Christie's auction years ago. Since then, I've always wanted to go to one. At last I did. So thank you, Carol.)