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Forum index » Archive » Archive: General » ARG: Alias:Omnifam

[BLOG] http://www.merrittparker.name/

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Ursos
Decorated

Joined: 26 Apr 2005
Posts: 276
Location: Columbus, OH

[BLOG] http://www.merrittparker.name/

Someone figured out the blog site of the guy selling the Rambaldi forgery on ebay. Here it is!

http://www.merrittparker.name/

Posted: Tue Jul 12, 2005 11:37 pm

Soph
Boot

Joined: 05 Jun 2005
Posts: 25

Translation of the spanish in comments

Quote:

Senor Parker, I Am curious on the manuscript that is position in eBay and I want to ask on the. I expect that a man with so much maestria in the history of Milo Rambaldi can help me. First it wanted to know that you understand of the lenguage that uses Rambaldi and which is the proposito of the invencion that this offered in the manuscript. MYSELF am very interested in buying it but my coleccion already this very large one and I need to know that is so special that him I cannot leave to escape. For which you write aqui in your blog already I see that are a very intelligent man and romantico in your filosofia, and I usually have a lot of luck with men asi. Me pudes to contact for email. I was expecting you. Many Thanks, Woman of the Scholar

Sorry because, my English not this so good one

Posted: Thu Jul 14, 2005 6:45 am

Ursos
Decorated

Joined: 26 Apr 2005
Posts: 276
Location: Columbus, OH

http://www.merrittparker.name/ is updated:

Quote:

The Forgery
Filed under: Rambaldi � MP @ 8:33 pm

Let's see, the car bomb was in '93� this must have been in '91 or '92. I go to Florence every year. It's one of my favorite cities, along with Siena. On this trip, I was staying at the flat of a young man I'll call Signor G. He was a history student at the Universit� degli Studi di Firenze and worked part-time at the Uffizi in the gift shop. We would often have lunch together, since I was working with the archive at the time, helping catalog new acquisitions from a recent bequest. It turned out that G. was related by marriage to one of the assistant curators, and we were invited to a private party one weekend at the archive. Oh the gallery there! I wish I could tell you what secret treasures were on display, but I swore never to identify them by name. I can tell you, however, that even though the media reported only a few "lesser" Renaissance works were destroyed in the bombing, the truth is much more dismaying. (I am purposely not speaking of the tragic loss of life, which although devastating, is not relevant to my story.) A private collection housed in the archive was also destroyed, and with it was a Rambaldi drawing.

Let's move on to the summer of 1995. After the bombing, my access to the Uffizi was more restricted and I found myself stuck in Florence without sufficient funds to get back to New York. I took a quick job as an assistant at a gallery near the Duomo, selling watercolors and copies of Renaissance masterpieces to tourists. At least, that was the front room. In the back, one of the local dons had a brisk trade in the extralegal sale of antiquities: things that weren't quite stolen, but really had no place being offered for private sale either. I am sure some of you may think ill of me for participating in such a venture; I can only say in my defense that the job was presented to me as legitimate, and it wasn't until I had been there for a week or so that I realized what was going on. By that time it was too late to leave and not incur the ill will of the Don, so I kept my head low and tried not to think about the many ways that people can disappear in a city as large and as connected to the black market as Florence is.

The Don called me into his office one day. He was short, like so many Italian men, and well padded�he did love his pasta. He dressed and acted like a man far younger than the wrinkles on his face and hands betrayed. His suit was beautifully tailored gray silk with thin dark pinstripes, his linen white and dazzling. He wore a bracelet of heavy gold links and, instead of the stereotypical pinky ring, a glittering signet with a large sapphire on his ring finger. He never wore a watch, I recall. As if he were too important and too busy to need to keep track of time. He gestured towards a painting on the wall and asked me, in a baritone rasped by age and smoke, to tell him about it. Mystified, I considered the painting. It was a minor piece, by a student of Lorenzetti's, and I told him so, suggesting that the best place for it would be at the Pinacoteca Nazionale, if he cared to be altruistic and donate it to them. It would be a nice gesture from such a respectable businessman, I added, and of course there were beneficial tax implications. So much for keeping my head low. I felt a bit like Indiana Jones confronting the Nazis�"It belongs in a museum!" I turned to leave, wondering if I could get on a train to Milan before he set his goons after me. He stopped me, as I knew he would, but he was smiling. He could tell I knew my stuff, he had a feeling I was more than the simple sales clerk I was pretending to be, he said, eyes crinkled with amusement. By this point I realized that as soon as I had set foot in the gallery he had done a complete background check on me, and knew about my background in art history, and, I was surprised to find out, my fascination with Milo Rambaldi's works. A Rambaldi drawing had recently been put up for sale by a local source, and the Don wanted me to verify its provenance. He had a buyer already if I could authenticate it. Not many people could, he knew, and he was "honored" that I was in his shop and could perform such a service for him. He may not have looked like Marlon Brando, but I knew it was a job I couldn't refuse.

The next day we met with the seller at his gallery in Oltrarno. The Don had me dressed up in a silk suit like one of his lieutenants, just another bodyguard, so as not to make the dealer suspicious. The drawing was brought out and the Don made a great show of holding it up to the light, checking for the watermark (which I had told him about), pretending to examine the document from every angle. I stood behind him and nonchalantly tried my best to look at it without seeming too interested. As soon as I saw it I knew it was a fake, however. It was a copy of the drawing from the Uffizi archive, the drawing that had been destroyed in the bombing in 1993. I bent over the Don's shoulder and stage whispered in his ear (so the seller could hear) that he was late for his next meeting. This was our pre-arranged signal that the drawing was a fake. He sighed sadly and smiled ruefully at the dealer, promising to contact him about the details of the sale as soon as his business was concluded at the end of the day.

The next day an entire block in the Oltrarno went up in flames.

Several weeks later, my ticket to New York in my pocket, I went to say goodbye to the Don. I thanked him for the privilege of working with him for the summer, and wished him well. I did not invite him to look me up in New York if he should ever visit the States, but I had no doubt that he would not wait for an invitation in any case. The Don stood up and shook my hand, and then reached into a desk drawer. I blanched momentarily, the words "loose end" ringing through my head, but he pulled out a large manila envelope and slid it across the massive mahogany surface towards me. Inside was the forged Rambaldi. "A token of thanks for your assistance in that matter." He nodded gravely. It was worthless to him, but he thought it might amuse me, he added. Touched, I mumbled thanks and took my leave.

The manila envelope ended up in my study in New York, stuck in between the pages of a journal for many years, forgotten while I attended to other research. Recently, my assistant has been helping me sort through my papers, and the envelope was rediscovered. I had a sudden, nagging thought�I was so convinced that the original had been destroyed, I hadn't paid much attention to this document. Could it by some weird fluke be a true Rambaldi? Alas, a closer look showed it to be the forgery it always had been. The paper was of the wrong consistency, and the watermark was clearly faked. I decided to put it up for sale, hoping to meet other Rambaldi enthusiasts.

And the Don? Several years ago his son (who had no taste for the family business and had entered the priesthood) sent me a clipping of his father's obituary from La Nazione, touting his good works of charity and his business acumen. The accompanying letter said that the Don remembered me in his last days, and spoke fondly of me. The son felt I would like to know that in his Will, the Don had bequeathed a certain painting that had always hung in his office to the Pinacoteca Nazionale.

Posted: Sun Jul 17, 2005 1:52 am

xoxo_pr0ud
Decorated

Joined: 24 Jul 2005
Posts: 164

Update...

Quote:

Filed under: Personal � MP @ 5:01 pm
Wyeth has left town for a few days, with strict admonitions to get back to the notebooks while he's away. But after all the excitement with the auction, I feel somewhat� isolated. Talking with all the people who were interested in my little drawing was quite more fun that I had expected, honestly. Some people didn't respond to my, er, advances, for a better word, although there were one or two who were very polite and charming (Hi Conor!)

But lately, nothing. What a foolish old man I must seem, missing the chatter of total strangers.

There have been several comments which I have been delighted to read, and I thank you for your graciousness. Maybe someone out there would like to hear more stories? Or has a question? A genuine interest in my life's work?

Posted: Tue Jul 26, 2005 11:49 pm

Ursos
Decorated

Joined: 26 Apr 2005
Posts: 276
Location: Columbus, OH

MP updated his blog (at last!):

Quote:

August 17, 2005
Followers
Filed under: Rambaldi � MP @ 10:13 pm

Well, I'm sure you all thought I forgot about you and have been wasting away on some Margaritaville beach somewhere. If only! But bills need to be paid, and my work takes me to strange and various locales, and I am too much of a luddite to make this laptop work without explicit guidance.

First of all, the coin, which so many of you were kind enough to send me pictures of, was a bit of a disappointment. It is obviously modern, and beyond the Rambaldi watermark, there is nothing there that I could derive any info from. The mysterious shape on the other side, with the letters H, A, or P I've never seen before. I'm sorry I can't be more helpful.

But you want to know about the Followers.

I have, in the course of my research, run directly into very few, surprisingly. What I have gleaned over the years is that this very secret society is structured much like a terrorist network. Note that I am NOT claiming that the FOR are terrorists; just that they seem to be organized in a similar way. Individual members are assigned to "cells" which have little to no knowledge of each other. There is a guiding council but I have never been able to discover more about it. Rumors and heresay tend to agree that this council is comprised of descendants of ancient families who may have been involved with Rambaldi in some way during his lifetime, and may have been responsible for promoting and protecting his work after his death.

I hesitate to talk much of my encounters�they were weird, and slightly frightening, even for an old pro like me, and they as a group are clearly not to be trifled with. Their devotion to Rambaldi and his works is cult-like and fanatical and they go to great lengths to protect their knowledge.

Perhaps if there is a specific question about the Followers, I can try to answer in more detail. But for now this is all I feel comfortable putting down in words.

Posted: Thu Aug 18, 2005 8:09 am

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