The Story of the Two Muchas

From antiques and ballpoint pens to Swatch watches or even running shoes, the art of collecting is not just about acquiring items; it’s about the stories these items carry. Every true collector has one thing in common: each piece in their collection comes with its own unique narratives about the item itself and how it was discovered.

This is our story of the two Muchas.

Part I

First, who is Alfons Maria Mucha? Known internationally as Alphonse Mucha, he was a Czech painter, illustrator, and graphic artist who made his mark during the Art Nouveau period in Paris. He gained fame for his decorative theatrical posters, particularly those featuring the renowned actress, Sarah Bernhardt.

For years, my wife, Connie, and I explored the antique shops of Pasadena almost every Sunday. We built beautiful friendships with the dealers and relished discovering new treasures. One Sunday in the 1980s, we visited a charming little shop called “Blackwelder’s,” known for its early 1900s fabrics and Art Nouveau furnishings. The store was a delightful step back in time, with tapestries depicting English hunting scenes and ornate brass candelabras. That day, I noticed two large paintings in green hand-carved frames showcasing what appeared to be Slavic women. They stood out from the usual décor and caught my eye.

I asked Dale, one of the shop’s owners, about the paintings, remarking, “They have a Mucha look to them.”

His response was a delightful surprise: “Good call! They are, in fact, by Alfons Maria Mucha!”

My excitement bubbled over. “Wow! How on earth did you come by them?”

I shared with Dale how I had discovered Mucha during a trip to New York in the 1970s. While wandering through a trendy area called SoHo, I came across a striking silkscreened Sarah Bernhardt poster beside an exquisite Tiffany lamp. Both pieces left an indelible mark on my memory, igniting my passion for Mucha’s work and the Art Nouveau movement.

Dale continued, “We’re selling these paintings for a dear friend who wants a quick sale. The price is well below market value but must be paid in cash and is non-negotiable.”

When he revealed the price, I was taken aback—it was high, but reasonable for two original oils. The rarity of this opportunity was not lost on us. We knew that chances like this were few and far between. As I’ve learned, action is essential when the moment presents itself. We agreed: no vacations, no more dining out; let’s do it! We returned to the shop the next day and paid cash for the two Muchas.

Part II

Fast forward to the 1990s. We moved our pet food business from behind our pet shop in Altadena to Irwindale, California. I still liked returning to Altadena to visit old friends and see Steve’s Pet Shop on Lake Street. Deep down, I’m just a small merchant. I enjoyed waiting on customers and got all my best ideas on new pet products by listening to our pet shop customers.

When I could, I would like to get to town early to meet my circle of left-leaning socialist friends at the local coffee shop. In the days before the internet, people talked. There were no phones nearby, and we used newspapers, books, and NPR as our main sources of information. It was an intelligent group, and I missed the daily discussions.

One of my friends, Tom, was the group’s intellectual, a local art painting restorer and a part-time picture hoarder/collector. His expertise and passion for art added a unique dimension to our circle.

“Tom, can you clean my Mucha paintings from the early 20th century?” I asked him. “They are getting a little flakey and need cleaning.”

He looked at me and said, “Green handmade frames with paintings of two Slavic women? Wow.”

“Yes, how did you know?”

“Get a cup of coffee and sit down,” Tom replied.

Tom sat at the big round table and told the story of the two Muchas: “As you know, I spend my weekends at garage sales and swap meets looking for paintings. Once in a while, I stumble on good pictures or watercolors. I was walking between dealers selling old LPs at the third Sunday Pasadena College swap meet. It was mostly furniture and car parts. And wouldn’t you know, leaning up against a car were the two Muchas!

“My heart skipped a beat,” Tom continued. “I know those paintings. They were once part of six owned by L.A. Art Museum. Two Slavic women, one wearing a scarf and the other praying, oils on stretched canvas and handmade frames.

“Still shaken, I asked the seller what she was asking for the pictures: $85! Of course, after buying some other pictures, I only had $50 left,” Tom explained. “I asked her to hold them and said I would be right back. I went looking for some friends to gather more cash, but when I returned, only one of the paintings remained. Damn! So, I bought the one painting.”

“Okay, how did you get the other painting?” I asked.

Tom said that months later at the same swap meet, the woman who bought the painting had put it up for sale again, now selling for twice as much. Tom found the money and bought the painting. All of us at the coffee shop table looked at each other, and one of the members asked, “So how did Steve get the two Muchas?”

Tom laughed and said, “Well, that is another story. Years later, my wife and I decided to divorce, and the only essential things we owned were the two Muchas. We sold them for cash through a friend, an art dealer in Pasadena. He then sold them to Steve and Connie.”

“Wow, what a great story!” I said. I returned the paintings to Tom to be cleaned, and he spent months restoring them to their original condition. The two pictures now hang in our Arts-and-Crafts home in Sedona, “The Greenhouse.”

As I said, antique collecting is all about the story, and every object has its own unique tale.