In this guide I'll discuss the signatures found - or not found - on fine original prints, taking a look at the history of the signature, variations in practice, and its importance as a matter of connoisseurship.

The Beginnings of the Signing Tradition: Prints Signed in the Plate

Artists started signing their prints in pencil in the late 1800's, but for many years before that, they signed prints in the plate - on the woodblock, copper plate, or lithographic stone - so that the signature would appear as part of the image. The earliest artists to do this were possibly Pollaiuolo in Italy in about 1470 with his full name, and many others at that stage with initials such as Masters ES or MZ. A few years later Durer signed most of his engravings and woodcuts with his monogram (AD), and others followed,  often - like Heinrich Aldegrever - using or copying Durer's monogram because it was worth more than their own! The tradition of signing prints in the plate continues to the present.

A signature in the plate can be useful for identifying the artist, especially when the artist is not well known, but it doesn't necessarily add to the value of a print, or guarantee its originality. After all, a mechanical reproduction of the print would reproduce the signature as well as the image. Nor does the signature in the plate indicate that the impression is "lifetime" (printed while the artist is alive) - once the signature is in the plate, it will keep appearing as long as the plate can produce impressions, perhaps long after the artist has died.

There are even instances where one would prefer not to have the artist's signature in the plate. For example, Rembrandt, who signed about half of his etchings in the plate, sometimes introduced his signature after the first or first couple of states of the print. Collectors wanting superb impressions from the earlier states - before the plate is worn down - want impressions before the signature was added to the plate.  Impressions of prints such as Medea or the Good Samaritan (each with the signature added in the 4th state), or the Three Crosses (added in the third state) before the signatures are added are highly sought after by connoisseurs. (By the way, for a discussion of print states you might want to look at this guide:      Fine Prints - States of the Art )

The Signed Print - Beginning the Tradition

In the late 1800's artist's began signing impressions of prints, as part of a growing tradition of recognizing the artistic value of - and marketing - the fine original print. Before that period, prints were only signed by artists in special situations. For example, there are a few Daumier lithographs that are signed or initalled by him, but only in the course of his giving directions to his printer (and if you see a signed Daumier outside of the National Gallery in Washington, or a few other choice locations, don't believe it!). Charles Meryon signed and inscribed some proofs that he gave to friends, around 1850, but did not otherwise sign prints (except of course in the plate). Whistler signed prints in pencil, using his tiny butterfly monogram, starting about 1871. The prints he made before that (again, often signed in the plate) are sometimes found signed with the butterfly, but this was done - if the signature is real - mostly long after the print was made; people brought the print back to him for a signature.

Whistler's brother-in-law, the etcher-surgeon Seymour Haden, is generally credited with inventing the practice of signing prints, and the artist Eugene Blery was probably the first significant artist to sign most of his prints. By the end of the 19th Century, signing was a common practice.

The Meaning - and Value - of a Signature

An artist's signature is thought to indicate that the artist approves of the impression, and in addition it shows - if it's real! - that the impression is not posthumous. So impressions with a valid signature tend to be more valuable than those without a signature, regardless of whether the signed prints vary from those unsigned. Whistler used to demonstrate this by signing half of the editions of his lithographs, and charging twice as much for the signed impressions! Several of the Picasso Vollard Suite sets sold initially did not have signatures (such as the very fine set acquired by the Museum of Modern Art in New York); dealers brought sets back to Picasso, and generally paid him to sign them; as a favor he might even add a made up inscription to a friend or lover, giving the print a special ambiance, then give the prints back to the dealer.  Today perfectly fine Vollard impressions that are unsigned are worth much less than comparable signed impressions or the even more valuable signed and inscribed impressions!

Some people are put off by inscriptions. I had a Peggy Bacon print inscribed "to Dick and Pat," probably turning off Richard Nixon critics. On the other hand, prints inscribed to other artists may well  be particularly fine impressions, and I believe often printmakers do reserve very special impressions for their peers or most important customers.

Variations on the Theme

Most artist's signatures are in pencil, at the bottom right or left margins. But variations abound. Whistler, for example, often put his tiny butterfly on a tab left after trimming the print at the platemark. James Ensor often signed in pencil in the front, and countersigned (and often titled) the back of the print.  Sybil Andrews and her peers signed their color linocuts on the image itself, largely because they didn't leave much margin space. Most sign in pencil, but some such as James McBey in ink. Often printers co-sign, such as Felsig in the case of Munch or Feininger, George Miller for Bellows, or Frank Nankivell in the case of Arthur B. Davies.

Prints vary in form and size, even for individual artists. It's not unusual to see great variations in signature through an artist's career, perhaps 7 or 8 changes in handwriting as, for example, in the case of James Ensor. And the signatures can tell you things - Whistler's large shaded butterfly can be earlier than the empty one, and so on.

Artists often date prints in pencil, and the dates usually correspond to the date the print - the matrix - was made, not when it was printed. So, for example, the Lozowick 1972 printings were often dated by Lozowick as 1929 (or whenever the print was made). Same with Ensor - although he printed plates over a period of decades, he dated them from when they were made.

Signing Reproductions, and "Afters"

For many years artists and printmakers have created prints based on the work of others.  For example, Pieter Breugel's prints (except for one, the Rabbit Hunters) are all really "afters", that is, they're engravings done by distinguished engravers based on drawings Breugel made (and Breugel intended that these drawings would become prints). Breugel signed or had the prints signed (in the plate, of course), and in many cases the engraver signed the prints too. In the early 1500's Ugo da Carpi worked closely with Rafael, making woodcuts after his drawings, and signed some of them Rafael.

In the early 1920's the great modernist pioneer Jacques Villon made prints "after" paintings by artists such as Braque, Picasso, Signac, Matisse; and these artists signed these prints, as did Villon. Today these prints are as much valued as Villons as "afters." But many such "afters" have really been nothing more than profit making ventures, producing little of aesthetic value. For example, Norman Rockwell did not make prints, but signed numerous reproductions of his paintings made by Parisian lithographers; he might as well have signed old Saturday Evening Posts. Picasso too signed reproductions of his paintings; these have substantial value in today's market, but say nothing of Picasso's genius as a printmaker (and he was a great printmaker). 

Posthumous Signatures

An oxymoron, right?  Perhaps not exactly. Often artists' spouses or children have signed prints after their relative-artist died (e.g, for Reginald Marsh, Bellows (daughter), John Sloan); sometimes these prints were printed during the artist's lifetime, sometimes not. Printers have signed plates printed posthumously (e.g., Nankivell for Davies). Estates put stamps on prints quite frequently, again whether printed lifetime or not. And late editions are printed and signed with estate stamps after the artist's death. For example posthumous Pissarro prints have a stamp resembling his signature; late Picasso prints often have the signature stamp. Such signatures are ways that the estate or heirs can certify that prints going on the market in some degree adequately reflect the artist's intent, have been produced in limited editions, or in other ways are not just valueless reproductions.

Finally, of course, signatures are forged by those without any relationship to the artist at all. I know a dealer who claims to have seen a Miro signature on a Chagall print. Even experts are occasionally fooled, but this is rare, because signatures appear in a rich evidentiary context. The signature can be looked at alone, and this is generally enough to tell if it’s right, but also the paper, watermarks, other annotations or the lack of them, and printing quality also contribute to the assessment of a signature’s validity. As with other issues pertaining to a fine print, a competent seller should be able to field the pertinent questions (and a competent prospective buyer should ask them).

I hope this is a helpful introduction to this complex issue, and invite your questions and reactions. Thanks for reading - Harris Schrank

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