I had two different locations on the Square for my art studios over a 14-year period. The first was in the Fowler Building, corner of Floyd and Elm, a brick building, which I was told (by George Stamps) was a wooden house when Sherman marched right in front of it on his March to the Sea. My office/studio was on the second floor, where I taught art classes. One day in 1987, a man called me up and said that he had an original Rembrandt oil painting, which he had bought at a yard sale. I highly doubted it; I knew that it was impossible, but I was curious to see what he had. He wanted me to assess it, and I told him that my fee would be $20. On the phone, he sounded a bit rough, and really, I did not want to see this man alone in my studio, so I arranged a time for him to bring the ‘Rembrandt’ when two of my adult women students were there. He told me that he had already PURCHASED A FLIGHT to New York, booked a hotel. All to take it to Sotheby’s (big-ticket art auction house, established in 1744) to sell it for a TON of money. The minute he walked in the door, holding a 20x24 shiny canvas, with no frame… from across the room, I knew that it was NOT an original, and I had to break it to him. Authenticating a Rembrandt requires extensive examinations by top experts using scientific tests, X-rays, and historical analysis. If there had been even a remote particle of possibility of it being real, I would have sent him to The High Museum in Atlanta (where REAL Rembrandts have been exhibited) for authentic testing. The chance of finding a genuine Rembrandt at a yard sale is less than one in a billion. Rembrandt painted nearly 300 works in his lifetime, and most are in Europe. Believe it or not, a real Rembrandt was found in an attic in Maine. It had made its way to America and was in a farmhouse when it was discovered in August 2024; it sold for 1.4 million on Aug. 24, 2024.

 But what scared me is that he had two large men with him, BODYGUARDS, and they were wearing gun holsters, with pistols, clearly obvious, as they both opened the hem of their jackets to make sure that we saw. I have seen that move in cowboy movies. They were protecting this million-dollar painting. The canvas depicted a very important Rembrandt (1606-1669) of “Man with a Golden Helmet,” painted in 1650, located in a museum in Berlin, Germany. It actually toured the U.S. in 14 exhibitions between 1949-53 in New York, Chicago and Los Angeles. But I knew of it from studying art history in college and seeing it in art books. A real Rembrandt sells for millions, tens-hundreds of millions. Maybe he wanted a million for it? All three large intimidating men confronted me, but I had three women opposite them. I inhaled, then said “Sir,… sorry to disappoint  you, but that is NOT an original  Rembrandt, it is a printed copy of it on canvas, worth maybe $10.” He cried ‘‘No, you are wrong, it’s real!” I replied, “Look at the staples all around the edges, bright and shiny, when do you think the staple gun was invented?” “In the 1940s, in America” [actually it was in the 1930s, but I was close]. When Rembrandt painted this painting in 1650, he had to stretch the canvas himself using tack nails and a ballpeen hammer. I KNOW this because I learned it in art school by actually doing it. HE did not use a staple gun.”  His head dropped, “But look at this,” as he turned it over. There was a red oval stamp with some words on it. I said, “That’s just a label from where it was bought.” He had nothing else to go on; his dream was shot, his bubble burst. By this time, he was grasping for hope and tried to accept defeat as they all turned to leave. BTW, the two bodyguards never said a word; they stayed at attention the whole time. The trio was walking out when I…(a tad anxious, they had guns!) said “Excuse me sir, my $20 fee….we agreed upon…I think I earned it. Plus, I saved you the cost of flying to New York, a hotel, meals, etc.” I omitted the part about the embarrassment he would have endured. Almost reluctantly (the gig’s up), he pulled out a twenty and handed it across the room as they trudged out. And no “thank you” to me, either.  I honestly don’t think he believed me, and may have asked someone else, gotten a ‘second opinion’… “WHEWWW’’ I exhaled, as I heard them clomping down the stairs. I turned to my art ladies, and thanked them for being moral support, as we all chattered about it. “Can you believe they had guns!”  “I was scared for a minute.” “Those idiots!  Even WE know that it was a copy, and we didn’t get an art degree”. I replied, “I also saved him from a VERY humiliating experience. If he had taken it to Sotheby’s with his goons, they would have laughed that hick right outta town. “Can you believe that buffoon from Georgia?!” I didn’t want a fellow Georgian giving our state a bad rap.

Carol Veliotis is a local columnist for The Covington News. She can be reached at carol.veliotis@gmail.com.