How to Fake a Medieval Fresco in Third Reich Germany
Down in the schwahl, Malskat and the Feys set to work, attempting to
reclaim history by scraping away the paint with which Olbers had tried
to recapture the past. But subtracting what their predecessor had
done—whether on account of Olbers’ pigments or the Feys’
incompetence—left almost none of the original paint. A nearly
700-year-old national treasure had vanished, and Ernst Fey was legally
responsible for the disappearance.
Most likely Fey was the one to think of a fix. Unquestionably
Malskat was the one who achieved it. Over the next several months, the
erstwhile housepainter whitewashed the brick, discoloring his lime with
pigment to give the walls an ancient tint. Onto this fresh surface he
painted freehand his own version of the murals. Necessarily these were
based on Olbers’ 19th-century restorations, reverse engineered to
approximate the early medieval originals by reference to period examples
in the professor’s catalogues. Drawing his figures in earth tones,
Malskat took up the spare 14th-century style with preternatural ease and
an utter lack of inhibition. He rendered his father as a prophet, and
gave Christ the face of an old classmate. For the Virgin Mary, he had to
look farther afield to find a suitable model, choosing a woman already
widely worshipped—the Austrian movie star Hansi Knoteck. (Apparently
20th century art forgers had a thing for actresses. For the Dutch forger
Han van Meegeren, it was Greta Garbo.) Ernst Fey then aged the contour
drawings using a procedure he called zurückpatinieren—a fancy word for
rubbing them with a brick.
whaoooo
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