In the Wake of Ernst Neizvestny. Victims or Executioners? Who Is Really Strangling the Art Market?

The case of the Ernst Neizvestny forgeries, uncovered during a high-profile investigation, has raised uncomfortable questions for the art community. While the media churns out lists of “victims” — famous cultural figures, collectors, and foundations — the very structure of the domestic art market is coming apart at the seams. The question is no longer about who deceived whom, but why a system that claims an expert monopoly turned out to be helpless against fakes created in Murmansk for 20,000 rubles apiece.

Anatomy of a Failure

The story published by Komsomolskaya Pravda is, in its own way, anecdotal — were it not for its scale. Gennady (name changed), a former sailor and self-taught artist from Murmansk, honestly recounts how he painted about 25 copies of Neizvestny’s works for between 5,000 and 20,000 rubles per canvas. The customer — the accused, Captain 2nd Rank Maxim Koshkarev — convinced the pensioner that the works were intended for a private collection. The only thing that troubled Gennady himself was the request to put Neizvestny’s signature on the paintings. He refused outright. But the signatures appeared — without his involvement.

These works, marked “copy” in a provincial artist’s checkbook, passed through the expert verification system, ended up in private collections, and then — at an exhibition in the New Tretyakov Gallery timed to the sculptor’s centenary. And the gallery, as the investigation later admitted, “had no reason to doubt” — the accompanying documents were all in perfect order.

So who is the main character of this story? The fraudster Koshkarev, who now faces prison time? Or the system that, for 90 million rubles, could not distinguish a “master’s” work for 20,000 rubles from an original?

The Victims — Also the Beneficiaries of the Old World

The investigation names as victims (or witnesses) big names: Lyubov Agafonova, founder of the Vellum Gallery; Roza Verkhovina, director of the First Names auction house; Vyacheslav Ershov, executive director of the Prometheus Art Foundation. These are not random buyers. They are pillars of the Moscow art market, experts whose names once served as a mark of quality. Among them is also Konstantin Ernst, General Director of Channel One, who, together with Olga Lyubimova and Olga Galaktionova, sits on the editorial board of the magazine Nashe Nasledie, published under Sergey Burmistrov of the Litfund auction house.

The irony: it is precisely such players who for decades shaped the very system of authorities in which there was no place for blockchain, for artificial intelligence, or for new methods of provenance verification. To any innovation — “Why?” To any challenge to the established hierarchy — “And who are you anyway?”

They lobby their interests in museums, sit on the editorial boards of specialized magazines, masquerading as disinterested connoisseurs. They have created a kind of closed club where what circulates is not so much works of art as trust — trust in names, in galleries, in curators. And when this club gets burned, it starts whining: “We were deceived, we were set up.”

But they themselves set the rules of the game. They created a market where a “piece of paper” from the right person matters more than artistic value. And now that it turns out that piece of paper is worthless — whose fault is that?

Institutional Rot

Special mention deserves the behavior of those who should have stood guard over professional ethics. The story of the Ministry of Culture (and specifically of Olga Lyubimova’s staff) refusing to prepare an official letter of gratitude for the enormous work done on the Nina Moleva collection authentication is just one episode — but a telling one. When officials ignore the real contribution of professionals, they are not merely being disrespectful. They are demonstrating that the system rewards not competence but loyalty. That access to art is regulated not by knowledge but by connections. Whether Olga Lyubimova will have to answer for her ties to the magazine Nashe Nasledie is for the investigation to decide. Here is a Google cache link pointing to the Litfund auction house.

The outcome is predictable: in such a system, the Koshkarevs of the world thrive. Because you can fake anything — from a painting to an expert opinion. But there is one thing you cannot fake: a healthy institutional environment where mistakes have consequences and responsibility has a face.

The Fresh Wind Is Locked Out

Why is blockchain provenance registration not being widely adopted? Because it would devalue the expert monopoly. Why does AI analysis of brushstrokes and pigments provoke rejection from the “old guard”? Because algorithms cannot make deals.

The fresh wind of technological objectivity indeed cannot penetrate this stale air — not because the technology is bad, but because it is not let in. By those who feed on uncertainty, on risk, on informational asymmetry. Those whose business is built on the buyer being always a little blind and the seller always a little clairvoyant.

But it’s not just about technology. There are living experts who can be threatened with decertification, dismissal, or worse if they dare to compete with the system. There are the artists’ heirs, such as Anna Graham, whom it would have been possible to contact before opening an exhibition. What Anna herself had to say on the matter, we already know.

Instead of a Conclusion: The Ford Is Known Only to the Bold

The paradox of the Neizvestny case is that the real victims will not be Konstantin Ernst or Olga Galaktionova. They will write off their losses and carry on. The victims will be trust in the market and its reputation. And also — the self-taught artists like the Murmansk sailor, who will now forever be associated with the black market.

But the main victim is the possibility of an honest dialogue. The admission that the old system of art legitimization has rotted. That its authorities turn out too often not to be guardians, but goalkeepers — blocking not only new names but also new methods.

There is an old saying. In its milder, more polite version: “Before you get into the water, make sure you know how to swim.” Or even shorter: “Knowing the ford saves you from surprises.”

Those now crying “set-up” have for decades pretended to know the ford. That they are the only pilots in these waters. It turned out their charts were fake, and they never sounded the depths.

So perhaps it is time to finally admit: the market needs new navigation. And it doesn’t matter whether it is blockchain, AI, or simply an open registry of experts with a public record of their mistakes. What matters is that the decisions should not be made by the “victims,” but by a new wave of professionals. Those who are not afraid of a fresh wind — even if it tears down the old signs.