THE VALUE OF CHESS REPRODUCTIONS
by Rick Knowlton
What draws us to the chess sets we love? It may be a historic moment, an aesthetic ideal, or a quality of workmanship. Our fascination with certain chessmen may be something deeply personal, something we share within a group of enthusiasts, or a widely recognized association with famous persons or events. What often follows are questions of origin and authenticity – the time and place of production; the hand or shop that turned the set out; the actual history of where these chessmen have been and the historic moments they have been a part of. One way or another, the lure of chessmen inspires our imagination: where they have been; what they have seen; the distant times, places, dramas and ideals we feel a part of, in the presence of these little playing pieces.
The Lewis chess men - Perhaps the most reproduced chessmen of all time. Thousands of reproduction sets have been marketed, and have appeared in countless films and other media
But what of reproductions – chessmen newly made to represent certain designs, cultures or historic periods? Such works can be dismissed as mere distractions, inauthentic oddities, or even counterfeits, detrimental to the recognition of genuine artifacts. This article contends that good reproductions of chessmen, sincerely reconstructed and skillfully realized, have a well-founded use and value, indeed worthy of consideration by dedicated connoisseurs, and that reproductions hold a place in the culture of chessmen that is both unique and inspired.
What is a reproduction?
In the greater scheme of cultural development, one form of playing pieces follows another, mostly imitating and partly deviating from the pieces that have come before them. Consider the most obvious example, the Staunton design. Any modern chess player would quickly recognize these chessmen that we take to be standard, but a look at the shapes and faces of the knights from a dozen different sets will show a wide range of variation. It is certainly no mistake that these sets vary from the original knights patented by Nathaniel Cooke (originally, Cook) in 1849. Whether these are deviations, improvements or stylistic flourishes, they are all considered Staunton sets, and are taken on their own merit for aesthetic consideration and playability. This variation has been true of every sort of chess set, looking back to Edinburgh upright sets, through directoire designs … back trough the earliest Arab and Persian chessmen ever discovered. Variation within a cultural norm has always been the rule of conventional gaming pieces.
What is a reproduction?
In the greater scheme of cultural development, one form of playing pieces follows another, mostly imitating and partly deviating from the pieces that have come before them. Consider the most obvious example, the Staunton design. Any modern chess player would quickly recognize these chessmen that we take to be standard, but a look at the shapes and faces of the knights from a dozen different sets will show a wide range of variation. It is certainly no mistake that these sets vary from the original knights patented by Nathaniel Cooke (originally, Cook) in 1849. Whether these are deviations, improvements or stylistic flourishes, they are all considered Staunton sets, and are taken on their own merit for aesthetic consideration and playability. This variation has been true of every sort of chess set, looking back to Edinburgh upright sets, through directoire designs … back trough the earliest Arab and Persian chessmen ever discovered. Variation within a cultural norm has always been the rule of conventional gaming pieces.
the "Leonardo da Vinci - set - based on the many sketches found in Luca Pacioli’s manuscript (c. 1500), detailed diagrams were made borrowing the style of the High Renaissance period. A chess manufacturer in India then transformed those patterns into complete sets. They have been named for Pacioli’s friend and collaborator, Leonardo Da Vinci, whose name is broadly recognized.
On the other extreme are sets deliberately made as works of art. Most often such works have been figurative, borrowing the ideas of chessmen and casting them into elaborate sculptures. These developments say not so much about the game of chess as they attest to the artistic culture and imagination of the artist. This sort of set too, has its place, not usually as playing pieces but as sculptures and novelties.
traditional Burmese set - During the long embargo, it was difficult and/or illegal to acquire the famous Burmese chessmen from their original source. This reproduction was made by a joint effort between Cambodian, Canadian and U.S. artists, based on the chessmen in Alex Hammond’s The Book of Chessmen (p. 108; Barker Ltd, 1950)
Reproductions, therefore, fall into a peculiar niche. While conventional chessmen maintain the standards of their own time, and vary in small ways, and while artistic chessmen spring from their contemporary standards with imaginative leaps, chessmen that are called “reproductions” reach back to styles or artistic creations from former times and places – and attempt to match those forms and ideals as faithfully as possible.
Here’s why:
Many sets are incomplete or do not exist!
In the approximate fifteen centuries that chess has existed, most of the chessmen ever made have disappeared without a trace. A few have had the fortune of becoming illustrations in chess manuals, and fewer still have been excavated as fragmentary remains of ancient civilizations. Are we never again to sit in the presence of these chess sets? Here is an essential call for the need of reproduction. Just as a paleontologist is called to reassemble a complete skeleton from a pile of scattered dinosaur bones, a chess historian is similarly called to recreate a full set of chessmen to show them in their natural context. Chessmen found in manuscripts and paintings offer a similar challenge. The only way to fully see, feel and experience chessmen left with such clues is to actually re-make them. A dedicated chess reproductionist will take every clue available, from various angles and renderings of the represented set, as well as all knowledge of sets and styles of the time period, to make a complete set of chessmen that faithfully represents the chessmen as they actually existed in their time. A set made with such care and knowledge offers a unique opportunity for the viewer to see chess in history – in a way that could not be apprehended by any other experience.
Here’s why:
Many sets are incomplete or do not exist!
In the approximate fifteen centuries that chess has existed, most of the chessmen ever made have disappeared without a trace. A few have had the fortune of becoming illustrations in chess manuals, and fewer still have been excavated as fragmentary remains of ancient civilizations. Are we never again to sit in the presence of these chess sets? Here is an essential call for the need of reproduction. Just as a paleontologist is called to reassemble a complete skeleton from a pile of scattered dinosaur bones, a chess historian is similarly called to recreate a full set of chessmen to show them in their natural context. Chessmen found in manuscripts and paintings offer a similar challenge. The only way to fully see, feel and experience chessmen left with such clues is to actually re-make them. A dedicated chess reproductionist will take every clue available, from various angles and renderings of the represented set, as well as all knowledge of sets and styles of the time period, to make a complete set of chessmen that faithfully represents the chessmen as they actually existed in their time. A set made with such care and knowledge offers a unique opportunity for the viewer to see chess in history – in a way that could not be apprehended by any other experience.
Courier Chess á la Lucas van Leyden
Too precious to play…
Where chessmen of special historic or artistic value are concerned, one rule is implicitly understood. Do not touch. This is of course the norm for art galleries, museums and private collections for good reason: the danger of breaking or even gradually degrading the items at hand is too steep for any tactile indulgences. But where chessmen are concerned, this creates a sad state of affairs. Every chess player knows that a chess set is not a sterile object, but a set of pieces brought to life by the dynamics of the chess game and the pleasure of handling the pieces with their mysterious powers. A chess set deemed untouchable is officially pronounced dead. Still beautiful, it is a mummified corpse of a game.
That same set, made in reproduction, can live again. Thanks to reproductions of chessmen, a chess player today can experience the chessboard drama as it looked and felt one hundred, two hundred … or even a thousand years ago in the full dimensions of space, time and dynamic interaction. While images, artifacts and histories can give us glimpses of chess in distant times and places, playing out a game on a quality reproduction brings us even closer.
Where chessmen of special historic or artistic value are concerned, one rule is implicitly understood. Do not touch. This is of course the norm for art galleries, museums and private collections for good reason: the danger of breaking or even gradually degrading the items at hand is too steep for any tactile indulgences. But where chessmen are concerned, this creates a sad state of affairs. Every chess player knows that a chess set is not a sterile object, but a set of pieces brought to life by the dynamics of the chess game and the pleasure of handling the pieces with their mysterious powers. A chess set deemed untouchable is officially pronounced dead. Still beautiful, it is a mummified corpse of a game.
That same set, made in reproduction, can live again. Thanks to reproductions of chessmen, a chess player today can experience the chessboard drama as it looked and felt one hundred, two hundred … or even a thousand years ago in the full dimensions of space, time and dynamic interaction. While images, artifacts and histories can give us glimpses of chess in distant times and places, playing out a game on a quality reproduction brings us even closer.
Reproductions are essential
Although Shakespeare’s tragicomedy The Tempest been staged in period costume countless times over centuries, it would be hard to find a production of the play in which the “chess scene” exhibits the early seventeenth century style of chessmen. How tragic! The same is true of many historic plays, films or illustrations that miscast the familiar modern chessmen into past centuries and distant continents. Just like period clothes, furniture, homes and machinery, the correct use of historic chessmen is essential to maintain the integrity of any production that includes chess.
Although the famous Lewis chessmen have been a bit over-used as standard “ancient chessmen” (from Ingmar Bergman’s adapted set in The Seventh Seal to the live-action animated set in Harry Potter’s dining hall), there have been a few interesting ventures into chess period accuracy in recent times. Here are a few examples:
1) The film Pawn Sacrifice (2014), reliving Bobby Fischer’s rise to world champion, portrays the 1972 world championship set well, but is a little off in showing Fischer’s and Spassky’s personal sets.
2) A recent Netflix drama, Marco Polo (2015), has Polo playing with Kublai Khan on an elaborated medieval Arab-style set. (A traditional Chinese xiangqi or possibly a Mongolian shatar set would have been more likely.)
3) A recent article, “Tabletop Armies” in Early American Live magazine (Nov/Dec 2016), coaches period home designers in the correct chess designs (directoire, barleycorn, etc.) for staging rooms according to their historic eras.
4) The TV series, Hawaii 5-0 (2016, season 7) opens with a detective drama involving “eleventh century walrus ivory chessmen.” (The chessmen used are actually reproductions of ninth century elephant ivory men – close enough for a murder mystery.)
Although Shakespeare’s tragicomedy The Tempest been staged in period costume countless times over centuries, it would be hard to find a production of the play in which the “chess scene” exhibits the early seventeenth century style of chessmen. How tragic! The same is true of many historic plays, films or illustrations that miscast the familiar modern chessmen into past centuries and distant continents. Just like period clothes, furniture, homes and machinery, the correct use of historic chessmen is essential to maintain the integrity of any production that includes chess.
Although the famous Lewis chessmen have been a bit over-used as standard “ancient chessmen” (from Ingmar Bergman’s adapted set in The Seventh Seal to the live-action animated set in Harry Potter’s dining hall), there have been a few interesting ventures into chess period accuracy in recent times. Here are a few examples:
1) The film Pawn Sacrifice (2014), reliving Bobby Fischer’s rise to world champion, portrays the 1972 world championship set well, but is a little off in showing Fischer’s and Spassky’s personal sets.
2) A recent Netflix drama, Marco Polo (2015), has Polo playing with Kublai Khan on an elaborated medieval Arab-style set. (A traditional Chinese xiangqi or possibly a Mongolian shatar set would have been more likely.)
3) A recent article, “Tabletop Armies” in Early American Live magazine (Nov/Dec 2016), coaches period home designers in the correct chess designs (directoire, barleycorn, etc.) for staging rooms according to their historic eras.
4) The TV series, Hawaii 5-0 (2016, season 7) opens with a detective drama involving “eleventh century walrus ivory chessmen.” (The chessmen used are actually reproductions of ninth century elephant ivory men – close enough for a murder mystery.)
Featured in the 2016 TV series, Hawaii 5-0 (season 7, episodes 1–4), these pieces are careful replicas of ninth-century Persian artifacts.
As chess continues to gain popular interest around the world, and re-workings of historic scenarios are never-ending, the need for knowledge and reproduction of long-gone chess styles will continue into the foreseeable future.
Money is no object
The world of dealings in antiques and ancient artifacts is a complex arena, not for the faint of heart or the tentative of funds. To be sure, the vast majority of chess enthusiasts will never enter into the bidding of Sotheby’s or other venues of museum-quality artifacts. But where reproductions are concerned, the inflating factors of rarity and branding are no obstacle. Here, the simple variables of the open market apply: manufacture cost, availability, shipping and dealing expenses. While a well-to-do chess collector will have an ancient set (or fragment) proudly set in a glass case, the average enthusiast can have a full set laid out on the table, coming alive as an actual chess game.
May be rare anyway…
Yet reproductions are absolutely collectible. Like other sets throughout history, they will run for a certain period – and be produced no more. Our sets for instance, at AncientChess.com, include Courier Chess, from van Leyden’s painting of 1508. Seventy-one sets have been made so far in painted resin; eleven sets have been made in brass. Optimistically, those numbers may double by the time production is drawn to a finish – and that will be it! Interested collectors will then have to compete for the few sets that change hands over the years, as they do now for sets made fifty or two hundred years ago.
Money is no object
The world of dealings in antiques and ancient artifacts is a complex arena, not for the faint of heart or the tentative of funds. To be sure, the vast majority of chess enthusiasts will never enter into the bidding of Sotheby’s or other venues of museum-quality artifacts. But where reproductions are concerned, the inflating factors of rarity and branding are no obstacle. Here, the simple variables of the open market apply: manufacture cost, availability, shipping and dealing expenses. While a well-to-do chess collector will have an ancient set (or fragment) proudly set in a glass case, the average enthusiast can have a full set laid out on the table, coming alive as an actual chess game.
May be rare anyway…
Yet reproductions are absolutely collectible. Like other sets throughout history, they will run for a certain period – and be produced no more. Our sets for instance, at AncientChess.com, include Courier Chess, from van Leyden’s painting of 1508. Seventy-one sets have been made so far in painted resin; eleven sets have been made in brass. Optimistically, those numbers may double by the time production is drawn to a finish – and that will be it! Interested collectors will then have to compete for the few sets that change hands over the years, as they do now for sets made fifty or two hundred years ago.
How a reproduction is made - the Afrasiab chess men
An art and a passion!
The re-living of ancient arts, games, stories and environments is a human passion that will never grow old – and chess reproduction is all of these. From the curious history buff to the student of world arts; from the Shakespearean play to the television drama; from the budding chess student to the master or connoisseur of ancient relics … chess reproductions have something for each of these. To truly engage in making a set of chessmen, long gone, come again to life is a meeting of studious research, disciplined imagination, exquisite craftsmanship and resourceful production. The result is at once a monument to a moment in human culture and a revived artwork which otherwise would never again have come into being.
(c) Rick Knowlton Oct. 2016 (re-publication only with the permission of the author!)
The re-living of ancient arts, games, stories and environments is a human passion that will never grow old – and chess reproduction is all of these. From the curious history buff to the student of world arts; from the Shakespearean play to the television drama; from the budding chess student to the master or connoisseur of ancient relics … chess reproductions have something for each of these. To truly engage in making a set of chessmen, long gone, come again to life is a meeting of studious research, disciplined imagination, exquisite craftsmanship and resourceful production. The result is at once a monument to a moment in human culture and a revived artwork which otherwise would never again have come into being.
(c) Rick Knowlton Oct. 2016 (re-publication only with the permission of the author!)
the Afrasiab bishop in good hands
Rick Knowlton is a member of Chess Collectors International – USA, is coauthor with Jean-Louis Cazaux of A World of Chess: Its Development and Variations through Centuries and Civilizations, due for publication by McFarland in 2017. Rick’s web site, AncientChess.com is a resource of information and chess materials representing diverse cultures and time periods. Rick now lives in Sarasota, Florida, with his wife and two children, where he teaches chess and world board games and directs scholastic chess competitions. He can be contacted at [email protected].
