Professional Documents
Culture Documents
Every effort has been made to trace copyright holders and to obtain their
permission for the use of copyright material. The publisher apologizes for
any errors or omissions and would be grateful if notified of any corrections or
proper credits that should be incorporated in future reprints or editions of
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24 23 22 21 20 T9 18 17
10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1
To Paul
CONTENTS
A Note to Readers • xv
Introduction • i
I. Art in Society
Illusions of Disinterest • 14
Paul Mattick
The Artworld • 27
Arthur Danto
A r t . . . Contemporary of Itself • 54
Jean Baudrillard
Arts Markets • 60
James Heilbrun and Charles M. Gray
3. T H E I T A L I A N CITY-STATES • HO
Marketing • 124
Richard E. Spear
5. AMSTERDAM • 157
I. Germany
II. Spain
LONDON 204
Engraving • 217
Tobias Smollett
Hogarth • 220
Ronald Paulson
Vollard 312
Edith Holpert
Acknowledgments • 375
Bibliography 377
Index • 389
A NOTE TO READERS
The aim of this reader is to present a wide-ranging set of texts from a variety of academic
perspectives on the art market and its participants. For this reason, the texts have been
excerpted—with the gracious permission of all authors and rights holders—from pub-
lished work. Section titles are sometimes a shortened or edited version of the original to
more clearly convey the excerpt's content. Readers are encouraged to consult the original
sources, listed with each excerpt, for the complete texts. Due to space restraints, footnotes,
illustrations, tables, and other general references have been omitted, except for direct
quotes from academic sources, which are cited within the texts and refer to the bibliog-
raphy.
Within the excerpts the following punctuation conventions are followed: Ellipses (...)
within a sentence indicate that a word or words were omitted. Bracketed ellipses [...]
indicate omissions extending from a complete sentence to a paragraph or two, or several
paragraphs when followed by a linespace. Ellipses and bracketed ellipses at the begin-
ning of a paragraph indicate that the excerpt begins mid-sentence or mid-paragraph in
the original source.
XV
INTRODUCTION
The study of art markets has emerged as a promising new field within art history, a
natural outgrowth of the renewed interest of art historians in the social and economic
contexts in which artworks are produced. In the preface to his pioneering 1973 study of
the social changes that took place in the mid-nineteenth century and their influence on
the painter Gustave Courbet, the art historian T.J. Clark called for this change in focus.
Instead of linking artworks and artists to the general history of the time studied, assum-
ing that "the artist's point of reference as a social being is, a priori, the artistic community,"
and depending on "intuitive analogies" between form and content alone, Clark argued
that art historians should focus on the audience for art, which, he maintained, is not the
same as the public at large (1999, 9-10). He suggested that this audience (which neces-
sarily includes dealers, collectors, and critics) needs to be examined empirically if we want
to truly understand any major shift in the production of art in a society.
One of the best-known examples of such a market-driven shift was uncovered by Yale
University economist Michael Montias in 1982. By combining traditional art historical
analysis with his expertise in economics, Montias was able to shed light on the dynamics
of the seventeenth-century art market in Delft and their influence on artistic production.
Montias based his analysis on market data gleaned from the extensive Delft guild archives
instead of relying on biographical materials or on the traditional source of art historical
knowledge, the information contained within works of art (Haverkamp-Begemann
2006,14). His analysis of interactions among dealers, artists, and art collectors perma-
nently changed the art historical narrative of Dutch seventeenth-century art.
i
Traditionally, the practice of art history focused on the aesthetic value of artworks and
the function of art in society without considering the impact of the economic value (or
lack thereof) the art market assigns to the objects under study. Paradoxically, art histori-
ans themselves have long played an important role in the art market As specialists, they
not only offer aesthetic judgments about existing works of art—judgments that are val-
ued by market participants—but also serve the market by authenticating works of art that
have a doubtful provenance. They are called upon to evaluate whether a particular paint-
ing or sculpture is authentic—that is, was made by the artist to whom it is attributed—or
whether the work is a copy, or worse, a fake. As Marcia Pointon has argued, by ignoring
the impact of their discipline on the art market, art historians have developed an extraor-
dinary blind spot, especially because "to be an art historian is to deal in a knowledge field
that is mapped by price tags" (1997a, 17). As this volume makes clear, art market history,
by bringing into the conversation not only economics but also a wealth of contributions
from across the academic disciplines, expands the field of art history in new and some-
times provocative ways.
MARKET BASICS
By medieval times, the Old English word market, originating in the Latin mercatus, had
cognates in all other spoken languages throughout northern Europe, including Old French,
Old Frisian, Old High German, and even Old Norse. It described a central place in a town
or city where farmers and merchants would bring produce, livestock, and other goods for
exchange. In the parlance of today, the term market does not necessarily refer to a physical
space. It is a more abstract concept: simply speaking, a market for goods or services exists
when there are people who want to buy them and people who want to sell them (McMillan
2002, 6). When we speak of the oil market, for example, we refer to the activities of a
multitude of oil producers, middlemen, and retailers, and millions of consumers. A key
feature of Western capitalist markets is that participation is voluntary. Market participants
control their own resources and are free to decide how to allocate these resources.
Economists have long concerned themselves with how value is established in mar-
kets. Karl Marx, for example, ascribed two types of values to goods produced for the
market (which he called commodities). The first of these is use value, which is unrelated
to price and instead focuses on the buyer's perceived usefulness of goods (utility). The
second value that is embedded in all commodities is exchange value. This value is more
closely related to price. It refers to a highly abstract concept: the labor time that is embed-
ded in the goods that are produced. According to classic Marxist theory, no commodity
is brought to market without having attained exchange value.
This concept is closely related to what is known as the labor theory of value, formu-
lated in the nineteenth century, which holds that the value of a commodity increases in
proportion to the duration and intensity of labor performed on average for its production.
2 INTRODUCTION
Workers who labor with greater skill or more productivity than others produce more
value through the production of greater quantities of the finished commodity. Adam
Smith recognized that certain commodities may have an exchange value without contain-
ing use value (for example, diamonds), while a commodity with very high use value may
have a very low exchange value (for example, water).
Alfred Marshall, who is widely considered the founding father of modern economics,
combined the labor theory of value with the marginal utility theory in his Principles of
Economics (1890). Marshall believed that it is impossible to tell whether value is governed
by utility or cost of production, proposing instead that prices are established by supply
and demand. But he, like most nineteenth-century economists, realized that the value of
works of art cannot easily be explained using this model. Rather than reflecting the
quantity of labor that produced the work of art, prices appeared to be more related to the
wealth and taste of those who desire to purchase art. Thus Marshall argued that prices
for art are resistant to economic analysis exactly because "the price at which each is sold,
will depend much on whether any rich persons with a fancy for it happen to be present
at its sale" (Velthuis 2007, 97-98).
Today it is widely accepted that in markets, decisions regarding investment, produc-
tion, and distribution are based on both the supply of and the demand for goods. The
price of a good or service is determined when an equilibrium between supply and
demand is achieved. Sellers of goods generate a so-called supply curve: how much of the
product they would be willing to sell at any given price. This is developed through an
analysis of input costs and economic profit (which implicitly includes a normal profit
margin). Each market participant has a unique supply or demand curve, which may or
may not align with the overall market, and each must assess how he or she values a par-
ticular good versus how the market is valuing it.
Contemporary economists who focus on the market for art are exploring whether an
analysis of the aggregate price data now available from auction houses can reveal how
particular features embedded in a work of art can account for the price it obtains. A
number of studies have focused on whether price can be related to characteristics such
as size, the style of the work, the technique used, the age of the work, the reputation of
the artist, or the piece's provenance (the history of ownership). As Federico Etro and
Laura Pagani showed in their paper (included in this volume), this approach can yield
new insights. However, as Olav Velthuis has pointed out, the shortcoming of this type of
analysis is that it does not explain whether these price-determining factors are related to
the demand or supply side of the market (2007, 99).
A N O M A L I E S IN T H E ART M A R K E T
Certain anomalies in the market for fine art are revealed when we compare it to a durable
goods market, such as the market for luxury cars. Those looking to purchase a luxury car
INTRODUCTION 3
construct, technically speaking, a demand curve based on the needs, priorities, and desires
that inform their decision to purchase a particular brand of car. Consumers might be
motivated by changes in circumstances, such as new commuting requirements for work,
or by a desire for social recognition. Purchasing a Lexus or a BMW might reflect a buyer's
desire to "show" his or her success in life. By choosing a Volvo or a Subaru, consumers
might signal a desire to belong to a community that shares concerns about safety and
longevity. At the same time, buyers also are limited by how much they are willing or able
to spend to satisfy these needs. Producers of luxury cars take all of this into account when
designing their products and developing supply curves.
It is an article of faith for most art lovers that the producers of art—artists—behave
differently than automobile manufacturers. Artists are imagined to work alone, their
products the result of their creative genius, and the form and subject matter of the work
are believed to be unrelated to the desires of collectors. The texts in this volume will show
that artists have, in fact, a much more complex relationship to the art market. As Michael
Baxandall has argued, works of art are, among other things, "fossils of economic life"
(1988, 2). Kevin Murphy (in this volume) has shown that the artist Winslow Homer was
in effect utilizing a supply curve in the pricing of his paintings. Professional artists cannot
operate outside the system of commerce—despite the rhetoric disclaiming such associa-
tion. This is illustrated by the economists Victor Ginsburgh and A. F. Penders, whose
paper (included in this volume) tracks the works of Land artists traded in the auction
market of the late 1960s despite the anti-market rhetoric that surrounded their work.
Nevertheless, there is truth to the observation that the market for art is different from
any other market. The artist-producer possesses less information about the art market,
than, say, the maker of Mercedes-Benz does about the market for luxury cars. Since art
galleries and dealers are privately held enterprises that are not required to report sales
and profits, the size of the art market cannot be known. Moreover, unlike other produc-
ers, artists today generally do not compute the price of a new work by adding the cost of
materials, the hours of labor invested, and a reasonable profit. The value of artistic labor
(the creative process) is intangible. The legendary painter Pablo Picasso could produce a
drawing on ink and paper in record time—creating a value that far exceeded the cost of
his materials and labor. Calculating the use value or utility of the work of art for the con-
sumer is likewise not practicable for establishing price. As Andy Warhol, whose iconic
Pop works of the 1960s were produced in the studio he pointedly called the Factory, once
remarked: an artist is "somebody who produces things that people don't need to have"
(1977,146).
Calculating the price for which a work of fine art is offered for sale in the market is
thus not simply a matter of finding an equilibrium price between the demand (what the
consumer is willing to pay) and the supply of works of art. Moreover, because art is pro-
duced by individuals, some of whom are able endow their works with distinctive quali-
ties, the ability of consumers to judge the fairness of the price is similarly compromised.
Since most works of art are considered unique, there are no perfect "comparables." But
4 INTRODUCTION
even if there were, pricing information is difficult to obtain. Both the volume of sales and
prices paid for works of art are kept private by market participants, especially for works
by artists new to the market. This makes production and purchasing decisions infinitely
more complex for artists (how will my work be received?), middlemen such as galleries
and dealers (will this sell?), and for consumers (is it worth this price?). The last complica-
tion in the market for art is that, unlike any other goods, exceptional artworks collectively
represent a region's cultural heritage. Most of the art objects that are produced today will
not reach that exalted status, but some works may eventually sell at extraordinary prices
once their cultural value is universally recognized.
T H E S T R U C T U R E O F T H E ART MARKET
The art market actually encompasses two different markets for works of art: the primary
market and the secondary market. In the primary market only new works of art are sold.
Artists supply new works to dealers, who offer the works for sale. Dealers publicly exhibit
the works and promote their artists through advertising and word-of-mouth campaigns.
In return, they usually retain a substantial percentage of the selling price (their commis-
sion) when the works are sold. In the secondary market previously purchased works of art
are bought and sold by consumers, either at auction or through art dealers. The original
producers, the artists, are no longer party to those transactions and do not benefit from
the profits of the sale. This was as true in seventeenth-century Italy, when Guido Reni
complained about the success of his pictures in the secondary market (see Richard E.
Spear in this volume), as it was in 1974, when the artist Robert Rauschenberg famously
punched Robert Scull after the collector successfully auctioned Rauschenberg's works
and pocketed the very substantial gain (Merryman 1993,109).
The secondary market is more transparent than the primary market. The public
nature of auctions, where the prices offered in the bidding process are instantly revealed
to the public, helps to establish a benchmark for prices paid for works by individual
artists—essential information for art market participants. However, in comparison to the
primary market, the number of works sold at auction is relatively small. Major art centers
with hundreds of art galleries, such as London or New York, are served by just two or
three major auction houses. The primary and secondary art markets act as funnels: in
an active art market, many more artists are producing work than its gallery system can
absorb. Dealers select only a handful of artists whom they believe can be successful in
the primary market and will not necessarily be able to sell all of the work their artists
produce. The funnel further narrows in the secondary market, since the number of living
artists whose works are traded at auction is even smaller. An artist's reputation needs to
be firmly established before a public value (price) can be attached to his or her works.
The interaction between the primary and secondary art markets has yet to be studied
in detail. Broadly speaking, however, the observation that a "hot" auction market tends
INTRODUCTION 5
to stimulate demand in the primary market appears to hold currency. Increased interest
in purchasing new art in the primary market may result from the publicity that sur-
rounds booming auction markets and more opportunistic behavior on the part of collec-
tors ("getting in on the ground floor"). Successful auctions of art, such as the London sale
of the Bicknell collection in 1863 or the 1914 Paris auction of the collection of the invest-
ment consortium La Peau de l'Ours, for example, established market values for works by
contemporary artists, which in turn legitimized the value of their work in the primary
market (see Dianne Sachko MacLeod's and Michael Cowan Fitzgerald's articles included
in this volume).
The first public auctions of significant artworks took place in Amsterdam in the early
seventeenth century. The extensive art collection of the Dutch merchant Lucas Van Uffe-
len was auctioned in 1637 and 1639, but information about the contents and purchasers
is scant. No traces exist of the 1637 sale, but the auction of 1639 featured at least two Ital-
ian masterworks (Golahny 2013). The Van Uffelen sales reportedly attracted interna-
tional attention partly as a result of the high prices that were obtained. Indeed, the taste
for Italian art was spreading rapidly throughout Europe in the seventeenth century. Rich-
ard E. Spear and Philip Sohm report that Italy exported more Old Masters than contem-
porary paintings at this time (2010, 7). Sales of Italian aristocratic collections to foreign
collectors at the beginning of the century undoubtedly helped set this secondary market
in motion. The Amsterdam and London art auction markets continued to develop over
the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries to become very significant. To this day London
is regarded as the main auction market for Old Master paintings.
The reader of this anthology will find that, in spite of the hyperbolic rhetoric that sur-
rounds the twenty-first-century international art market, its manifestation of wealth and
conspicuous consumption is a continuation of rather than a departure from the historical
precedents. Similarly, the texts collected in this volume show that the production and
consumption of art have always been conducted at an international level. In fact, history
shows a consistent consumer preference for luxury goods that come from afar. The dic-
tum that "the farther goods travel, the more value they obtain" was as true for fifteenth-
century Florentines as it is for international collectors today. It explains why seventeenth-
century English collectors purchased pictures in Italy rather than in London, why
eighteenth-century French collectors swooned over shells and other exotica, why Ameri-
cans and Russians flocked to Paris in the late nineteenth and early twentieth centuries
to purchase the newest art, and why wealthy German and Dutch collectors had become
great collectors of American Pop, Minimalist, and Conceptual artworks by the end of the
1960s. This phenomenon can still be observed today, as collectors travel the world to
purchase pictures at art fairs—works that often could just as easily have been purchased
6 INTRODUCTION
at home, as Alain Quemin showed in his analysis of the participating artists in biennials
and fairs and their collectors (included in this volume).
By focusing on the long history of the art market rather than its singular moments,
this volume aims to enhance our understanding of the economic and social forces that
have been consistently at play since the early days of Florence. The long-term trends and
fundamental structures that emerge in the readings mark a departure from the tradi-
tional, narrower focus on art as objects. Generalist historians working today no longer
subscribe to the idea that the dominant position of Europe and the United States in the
modern period was the result of their exceptional nature. Instead, these scholars are now
eager to study the commonalities among societies. Studies of household items that are
common across all continents (salt, for example) have provided new insights into the
global nature of our world (Tracy 1993). In similar fashion, the study of art markets as
they emerged worldwide will offer art historians new and rich veins to explore art and
artists within this global context rather than as expressions of singular cultures.
Yet, to a striking degree, artists, collectors, and many art historians, especially in the
United States, have remained reluctant to discuss art and art production in the context
of the market economy that creates the excess wealth that spurs artistic production. The
impact of this dynamic was understood as early as 1604, when the Dutch art critic and
historian Karel van Mander wrote, "Art follows wealth for its rich rewards." Van Mander
came to this conclusion after he observed that the great wealth created by trade in the city
of Bruges had attracted two remarkable master painters, the brothers Jan and Hubert van
Eyck, whose works are now considered among the finest paintings produced in Renais-
sance Europe.
T H E HISTORY OF CAPITALISM
The history of the art market can be squarely situated within the history of market capi-
talism. Capitalist markets started to emerge in fifteenth-century Western Europe when
the economy evolved from a feudal system, where goods were produced for known con-
sumers—the landowning nobility—to a market system in which goods were offered in
a marketplace for purchase by any consumer. This change in the Western European
economy and the subsequent development of the capitalist market economy was traced
in great detail by the eminent French historian Fernand Braudel in his seminal three-
volume study Civilization and Capitalism, ijth-i8th Century (1992). Braudel did not focus
exclusively on Europe—his study encompassed capitalist development around the
world—but he framed his world history by examining the different capitalist "world-
economies" that emerged around the globe between the fifteenth and the eighteenth
centuries. He defined world-economies as geographical areas with clear boundaries (such
as oceans or mountain ranges) that mark their identity. While one central city typically
dominates each world-economy, the world-economy itself is comprised of the individual
INTRODUCTION 7
economies in its geographical area, which share a similar culture but stand in a hierarchi-
cal relationship to one another (1992, 3:24).
Western Europe's world-economy was the first to develop capitalist markets, accord-
ing to Braudel—a phenomenon he ascribed to the decimation of its population by the
plague in the mid-fourteenth century. Landowners started to trade in the agricultural
surplus that resulted from the drastic decline in population, thus developing a new
source of wealth. The movement of these goods was facilitated by significant improve-
ments in transportation. Regular overland and maritime trade routes were established,
and cities at the crossroads of those trade routes prospered. Regional trading fairs, sea-
sonally held, started popping up around Europe. Although the fairs were open to the
public, and most transactions involved perishable and cheap local goods, the economic
significance of these markets was tied to the trade in luxury goods, which were expensive
and usually came from far away (silk, for example). Most importantly, the fairs served
also as money markets, where credit was issued and accounts were settled (1992, 2:90-
91). Therefore, cities that hosted these fairs attracted tradespeople and merchants from
all over Europe.
In combination, these factors resulted in a new cultural dynamic: social mobility.
Those merchants who were able to build great trading fortunes—the new bourgeoisie—
naturally aspired to join the ranks of the nobility, society's ruling class. To signal their
new, elevated status, the merchants adopted the ostentatious luxury of the old aristocracy,
which had long depended on demonstrations of wealth to signify its position of
power in society. This new demand for conspicuously high-status goods, combined
with the excess wealth generated by the luxury trade, attracted artists from far and
wide to ply their wares. Over time, owing to economic competition and political
maneuverings within the European world-economy, trading dominance shifted from
city to city, and artists and markets would follow. While Italian city-states were the
dominant center in the early fifteenth century, this position was taken over by Antwerp
in the late fifteenth century, by Amsterdam in the late sixteenth century, by London
in the eighteenth century, and ultimately by New York in the course of the twentieth
century.
As Michael Montias has pointed out, innovation in any field of production, whether it is
art or software, relies on a concentration of people, a critical mass, who are working on
similar things. A recent example of this phenomenon is Silicon Valley, where software
entrepreneurs have congregated, software development training programs have started
up, and innovations and new products are created on an almost daily basis. Similarly, a
dense community of skilled artists, with new schools and training methods, is likely to
foster new and innovative artistic practices. This process took place in each major artistic
8 INTRODUCTION
center covered in this volume. Late fifteenth-century Florence, for example, counted more
woodcarvers than butchers. In 1472, the city boasted fifty-four workshops for marble and
stone; it employed forty-four master gold- and silversmiths, and at least thirty master
painters. The number of painters registered in the Antwerp Guild of Saint Luke doubled,
from 250 to 500, between 1500 and 1559. Jan de Vries estimates that in the Dutch north-
ern provinces 700 to 800 master painters were at work by 1650 (1996,264). By the end
of the nineteenth century, more than 4,200 artists were working in Paris, according to
the official 1886 census. The influx of hundreds of European artists in New York before
and during World War II helped to establish the same critical mass that was needed for
innovation in American painting.
The presence of dense artistic communities in major economic centers thus helps
explain innovations such as the rapid improvements of the fifteenth-century Florentine
painters in depicting the human body in space, the development of special genres in
Antwerp and Holland over the course of the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries, the
painterly innovations introduced by the Impressionists in Paris in the nineteenth cen-
tury, and the new approaches in painting that developed in postwar New York in the
twentieth century. The clustering of artists appears to add value to their works in the
secondary market. Christiane Hellmanzik found a cluster premium in the auction
market for paintings produced in Paris and New York of 11 percent and 43 percent,
respectively, and argues that artists working in clusters reach a peak in prices for their
work significantly earlier than artists working elsewhere (2010). Similarly, the absence
of a critical mass of artists will have a detrimental effect on artistic innovation and
quality. The drop in German demand for art in the wake of the Reformation that
Carl C. Christensen identified in his study of the German art market (in this volume),
for example, had significant consequences for artistic development in the centuries that
followed.
T H E O R G A N I Z A T I O N O F T H E T E X T S IN T H I S V O L U M E
The first and second chapters of this book establish a theoretical groundwork to assist
readers in identifying and tracking key issues and concepts across the chapters that fol-
low. Chapter 1 situates art in relation to the commercial world, drawing together key texts
about the role and value of art in a society, as conceived by different academic disciplines.
Chapter 2 looks at ways in which the behaviors of art market participants are informed
by the forces of supply and demand and by anomalous features of art markets. Subsequent
chapters are organized around the chronological succession of the major Western Euro-
pean trading centers Fernand Braudel first identified in his discussion of the shifting
centers of the European world-economy, in which he included New York as well (1992,
3:76). The excerpts selected for each of these geographical market chapters reflect the
viewpoints of art market participants—artists, dealers, collectors, experts—and describe
INTRODUCTION 9
local marketplaces at the time, such as galleries and auction houses. Each chapter includes
at least one primary-source text.
The selections are intended to provide an overview of developments in the art market
over time. Important nuances to this broader picture will inevitably emerge as future
scholarship focuses on the roles of historically underrepresented groups, such as female
artists and artists of color. The organization of the chapters by the dominant city in each
art market makes intuitive sense. Art markets have always been identified by their exact
geographic locations (Paris, London, New York) rather than by the corresponding nation-
state. We are as likely to refer to local art markets by city today as artists, collectors, and
dealers did in the seventeenth century. While this emphasis on individual cities is often
seen as a side effect of a new globalized world in which nation-states have diminished
stature, historians believe differently. As this volume shows, cities have always played
privileged roles as centers of cultural and economic activity and have demonstrated a
capacity for generating culture as well as commerce (Scott 1997, 323-24).
As soon as cities emerged as dominant trading centers in the modern world-econo-
mies, groups of foreign merchants would settle in to conduct business. These traders
and their compatriots clustered in particular neighborhoods within these cities and oper-
ated autonomously within the commercial system—unhampered by guilds or other
restrictions (Mauro 1993, 260-61). With the influx of merchants, new ideas and business
methods spread throughout Europe. Major merchant cities became clearinghouses for
information. Publishers responded by locating their presses in major cities and publish-
ing, in addition to religious and political tracts, newspapers with lists of goods for sale,
stocks and their trading prices, upcoming events such as lectures by philosophers, and
advertisements for new books (Stewart 2001, 331). In seventeenth-century Amsterdam,
for example, well over one hundred thousand titles were published, many destined for
foreign markets (Hoftijzer 2008, 249).
The high level of literacy among merchants stimulated book consumption and inter-
est in culture, general scholarship, and applied science (especially mathematics). While
a systematic overview of the development of centers of learning is outside the purview of
this book, cities with flourishing art markets, such as Florence, Antwerp, Amsterdam,
London, and Paris, also took on leading roles in scholastic endeavors.
The historical narrative of the art market begins in chapter 3 with the city-states in
Italy, where secular demand for paintings first emerged. The texts collected in chapter 4
describe the emergence of the first true anonymous marketplace in the cities of Bruges
and Antwerp in Flanders. The selections in chapter 5 focus on market-oriented art pro-
duction in Amsterdam and its neighboring towns in the northern provinces of Holland.
Chapter 6 briefly addresses developments in Germany and Spain, wealthy countries that
did not achieve a dominant cultural or market position in the European world-economy
due to geographical, indigenous political, and religious factors. Chapter 7 explores the
slow emergence of artistic talent in London despite Britain's dominant position as a
maritime and trading power in the eighteenth century. Chapter 8 is dedicated to Paris,
IO I N T R O D U C T I O N
which became the dominant cultural capital of the European world-economy over the
course of the nineteenth century. The texts gathered in chapter 9 focus on the develop-
ment of artists and collectors in the United States, while chapter 10 covers the ascent of
New York in the second half of the twentieth century as the new center of the Western
European world-economy and the Western art market. The final chapter briefly touches
on the market for art in the twenty-first century and the rhetoric of globalization that has
surrounded it.
I N T R O D U C T I O N • 11
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Rhopalorhynchus, 532;
R. clavipes, 533;
R. kröyeri, 533;
R. tenuissimus, 533
Rhynchothoracidae, 535
Rhynchothorax, 505, 535;
R. australis, 536;
R. mediterraneus, 508, 535, 536
Ricinulei, 439
Robber-crab, 173
Roncus, 436, 438
Rucker, 423
Rudolphi, on Pentastoma, 488 n.
Sabacon, 451
Sabelliphilus, 71
Sacculina, 95;
life-history, 96 f.;
males, 99;
castration caused by, 100 f.;
S. carcini, 96;
S. neglecta, Nauplius, 97;
Cypris, 97;
internal stages, 98;
with parasitic Danalia, 130, 131
Saitis, 421;
S. pulex, 382, 421
Salter, on facial suture of Trinucleus, 226;
on classification of Trilobites, 243
Salticidae, 419
Salticus, 420;
S. scenicus, 372, 376, 420
Sao, 235, 247;
S. hirsuta, development, 239
Sapphirina, 69;
colour, 60;
S. opalina, 69
Sarcoptes, 466;
S. mutans, 466
Sarcoptidae, 455, 466
Sarcoptinae, 466
Sars, G. O., on Calanidae, 58;
on Isopoda, 122;
on Crustacea of the Caspian, 215;
on Pycnogons, 504
Savigny, 526
Scaeorhynchus, 533
Scalidognathus, 388
Scalpellum, 84, 85;
complemental male, 86;
sex, 86, 105 f.;
S. balanoides, sex, 86;
S. ornatum, sex, 87;
S. peronii, male, 86;
sex, 87, 105;
S. velutinum, sex, 87;
S. vulgare, 85, 86;
male, 83;
sex, 86, 87
Scaphognathite, 152
Scapholeberis, 39, 52;
S. mucronata, 52
Schimkewitsch, 527, 534
Schizochroal eye, 228, 229
Schizonotidae, 310, 312
Schizonotus, 312
Schizopoda, 112;
re-classification, 113;
relation to Macrura, 162
Schizorhynchus, 121
Schmeil, on fresh-water Copepoda, 59, 62
Schultze, on position of Tardigrada, 483
Scipiolus, 535
Sclerocrangon, distribution, 200
Sclerosoma, 450;
S. quadridentatum, 450
Sclerosomatinae, 449
Scodra, 390
Scopula, 324, 324, 389 n.
Scorpio, 305, 307;
S. boehmi, 307;
S. maurus, 307
Scorpion, 297 f.
Scorpionidae, 306
Scorpionidea, 258, 297 f.;
habits, 298;
senses, 299;
poison, 299, 301;
mating habits, 300;
external structure, 301;
prosoma, 301;
pre-cheliceral segment, 301;
development of eyes, 301;
mesosoma, 302;
metasoma, 303;
appendages, 303;
pedal spurs, 304, 306, 307, 308;
tibial spurs, 304, 306, 307, 308;
internal anatomy, 304;
alimentary canal, 304;
vascular system, 305;
nervous system, 305;
endosternite, 305;
generative organ, 305;
development of, 305;
classification, 306;
fossil, 298;
resemblance to Eurypterids, 292
Scorpioninae, 306, 307
Scorpiops, 308
Scotinoecus, 390
Scott, on fish-parasites, 69 n.
Scourfield, on Cladocera, 51 n.
Scutum, of Spiders, 317, 394;
of Ticks, 469
Scyllarus, 167;
S. arctus, 165, 167
Scytodes thoracica, 393
Scytodidae, 393
Segestria, 395;
S. perfida, 369;
S. senoculata, 395
Segestriinae, 395
Segmentation, of Crustacea, 5 f.;
of Trilobites, 223 f.;
of Arachnida, 256;
of Limulus, 263;
of Pycnogons, 501 f.
Selenopinae, 414
Selenops, 414
Semper, 521 n.
Senoculidae, 418
Senoculus, 418
Sense-organs, of Arachnids, 257;
of Limulus, 271, 272;
of Tardigrada, 482;
of Pentastomida, 491 (see also Auditory organ, Eyes)
Sergestes, 162
Sergestidae, 162;
Zoaea, 161;
distribution, 204
Serolidae, 126
Serolis, 126;
distribution, 200;
S. antarctica, S. bronleyana, S. schytei—eyes, 149
Serrula, 322, 433
Sesarma, 196;
distribution, 213
Setella, 61
Sex, in Crustacea, 100;
in Trilobites, 235
Sexual dimorphism, of Copepoda, 57, 67, 75;
of Inachus, 103;
of Tanaidae, 123;
of Gnathia, 125;
of Prawns, 159;
of Gelasimus, 194;
of Spiders, 379
Sheet-webs, 352
Shell-gland, 13
Shipley, A. E., introduction to Arachnida, 253 f.;
on Xiphosura, 259 f.;
on Tardigrada, 475 f.;
on Pentastomida, 488 f.
Shrimp, 153, 158, 164, 198, 199
Shumardia, 245
Shumardiidae, 245
Sicariidae, 327, 393
Sicarius, 393
Sida, 51;
reproduction, 49;
S. crystallina, 22, 39, 40
Sididae, 51;
appendages, 40;
heart, 43
Siebold, von, 464 n.
Sigilla, 410
Silvestri, 473 n.
Simocephalus, 52;
S. vetulus, 38, 39;
appendages, 41
Simon, 303, 314 n., 326, 385, 386 n., 387, 391 n., 397 n., 400, 401 n.,
406, 408 n., 414 n., 418, 431, 433, 449, 452
Singa, 409
Sintula, 406
Siphonostomata, 56
Siriella, 120
Siro, 448
Sironidae, 448
Sitalces, 449
Slimonia, 283, 290, 292;
S. acuminata, 291
Smith, F., 367
Smith, G. on Crustacea, 1 f.
Smith, H., 373
Smith and Kilborne, 456
Snouted Mites, 458, 471
Solenopleura, 247
Solenysa, 405
Solifugae, 258, 423 f.;
habits, 423;
climbing habits, 425;
doubtfully poisonous, 424;
external structure, 425;
internal structure, 427;
classification, 428
Solpuga, 429;
S. sericea, 425
Solpugae, 423
Solpugidae, 429
Solpuginae, 429
Spallanzani, on desiccation of Tardigrada, 484
Sparassinae, 323, 414
Sparassus, 414
Spencer, on Pentastomida, 489 n., 490
Spermatheca, 15
Spermatophore, 15
Spermatozoa, of Crustacea, 15;
of Malacostraca, 114
Spermophora, 401
Sphaerexochus, 251
Sphaeroma, habitat, 211
Sphaeromidae, 126
Sphaeronella, 76
Sphaerophthalmus, 232, 247;
S. alatus, eye, 228
Spiders, 314 f.;
external structure, 314, 316, 317;
appendages, 319 f.;
rostrum, 320;
maxilla, 321;
palpal organs, 321;
tarsi, 324;
spinnerets, 325;
stridulating organs, 327, 404;
internal anatomy, 329, 330;
alimentary system, 329;
vascular system, 331;
generative system, 333;
nervous system, 333;
sense-organs, 333;
eyes, 315, 334, 375;
spinning glands, 335;
respiratory organs, 318, 336;
coxal glands, 337;
poison-glands, 337;
ecdysis, 338;
early life, 338;
ballooning habit, 341, 342;
webs, 343 f.;
nests, 354;
cocoons, 358, 358;
commercial use of silk, 359;
poison, 360;
fertility, 365;
cannibalism, 367;
enemies, 368;
protective coloration, 371;
senses, 375 f.;
sight, 375;
hearing, 376;
touch, 334;
intelligence, 377;
mating habits, 378;
fossil, 383;
classification, 384 f.
Spinning glands, 335
Spinning Mites, 472
Spiroctenus, 388
Spongicola, 162
Squilla, 141, 141, 142, 143;
S. desmaresti, 141;
S. mantis, 141
Squillidae, 114, 143;
compared with Loricata, 166
Stalita, 395
Stasinopus caffrus, 387
Staurocephalus, 251
Steatoda, 404;
S. bipunctata, 327, 404
Stebbing, on Amphipods, 137;
on Pycnogons, 503 n., 527 n.
Stecker, 447
Stegosoma testudo, 318
Stenochilus, 398
Stenochotheres, 76;
S. egregius, 76, 76
Stenocuma, 121
Stenopodidae, 162
Stenopus, 162
Stenorhynchus, 192, 193
Stephanopsinae, 414
Stephanopsis, 414
Stiles, on larval Pentastomids, 493, 494
Stomatopoda, 114, 141 f.
Storena, 399
Strabops, 283;
eyes, 290
Strauss-Durckheim, on Limulus, 277
Streblocerus, 53
Streptocephalus, 25, 35;
range of, 34;
S. torvicornis, 35
Stridulating organs, in Arachnids, 257, 327, 327, 404
Stygina, 249
Style, of palpal organ of Spiders, 322
Stylocellus, 448
Stylonurus, 283, 291;
S. lacoanus, 293
Sunaristes paguri, 63
Sun-spiders, 423
Sybota, 410
Sylon, 95;
sex, 99
Symphysurus, 249
Synageles, 421;
S. picata, 366, 373
Synagoga mira, 94
Syncarida, 114
Synemosyna, 420, 421;
S. formica, 373
Synhomalonotus, 249
Syringophilus, 455, 473
Valvifera, 127
Vancoho, 362
Vectius, 415
Vejdovský, 435 n.
Vejovidae, 306, 308
Vejovis, 308
Vermiformia, 464
Verruca, 89, 91
Verrucidae, 91
Vesicle, of Scorpion, 303
Vinson, 349, 360, 362
Virbius, 164;
V. acuminatus, 164;
habitat, 202
Virchow, on human Pentastomids, 494
Viscid globules, on Spider web, 347
Waite, 13
Walckenaer, 365, 386 n., 408 n.
Walckenaera, 405;
W. acuminata, 405
Walcott, on appendages of Trilobites, 236;
on their development, 238;
on early forms of Eurypterids, 283 n.
Wallace, 381
Wall-spider, 369
Warburton, C., on Arachnida, 295 f., 344 n., 349 n., 378 n.
Ward, on Reighardia, 495
Wasps and Spiders, 368
Water-mites, 460, 471, 472
Water-spider, 357, 415
Weismann, on Cladocera, 44, 49
Weldon, W. F. R., on excretory glands, 13;
on Branchiopoda, 18 f.;
on respiration in Carcinus, 189
Westring, 327, 384
Whale-louse, 502
Whip scorpions, 309
White, Gilbert, 342
Wilder, 366
Willemoesia, 157;
W. inornata, 158
Winkler, 463
With, 473 n.
Wolf-spiders, 341, 356, 359, 369, 375, 377, 381, 417
Wood-Mason, 328
Woods, H., on Trilobita, 219 f.;
on fossil Xiphosura, 277 f.;
on Eurypterida, 281 f.
Xanthidae, 191
Xantho, 191;
habitat, 198
Xenobalanus globicipitis, 92
Xiphocaris, 163;
distribution, 210
Xiphosura, 258, 259 f.;
classification, 260, 276;
fossil, 277 f.;
affinities with Eurypterida, 292
Xiphosura, 276;
X. polyphemus, 276
Xiphosuridae, 276
Xiphosurinae, 276
Xysticus, 412;
X. cristatus, 412;
X. pini, 413
Zacanthoides, 247
Zaeslin, on the frequency of human Pentastomids, 494
Zeriana, 429
Zilla, 409;
Z. x-notata, 359, 409
Zimris, 396
Zoaea, compared with Cumacea, 120;
with Erichthus, 143;
Calyptopis of Euphausia, 144;
of Peneus, 160;
of Sergestidae, 161;
of Porcellana, 169;
of Birgus, 174;
of Eupagurus, 179;
of Corystes cassivelaunus, 182
Zodariidae, 317, 399
Zodarion, 399
Zora, 397;
Z. spinimana, 396
Zoropsis, 415
Zoropsidae, 415