The Aesthetic Disposition of Antiques Roadshow

For very specific reasons I won’t explain, I watched several episodes of Antiques Roadshow as my PBS-program-of-choice this week.  Compared to something like Masterpiece Theater or NOVA, this show is a distinct anomaly – public programming’s take on reality television.  It is both ahead and behind its time as part of that genre.  More importantly, however, it is a fascinating perspective on people, especially in light of the Bordieu reading and notions of consumer/class culture as we’ve discussed.

            For those who are not familiar with the Antiques Roadshow, it follows a basic format: average people bring in their treasures, they describe how they came into possession of the item and how much they paid for it, the appraiser explains the item and its history, and then an estimated value is proffered.  Occasionally, if the appraiser is feeling playful, the average person will be asked how much they think the item is worth.  These values and the items’ histories are what I will focus on here.

            Part of the draw of the show is the possibility of major finds – the million-dollar Chinese artifact of a few years ago comes to mind.  What I found most interesting, however, was the reactions of people to the worth of their items – often, five- and six-figure appraisals elicit the same response from owners as comparatively small net worth.  It is also easy to discern those who purchase arbitrary antiques with the hope of striking it rich from those who inherit cherished heirlooms from ancestors and expect very little from them. 

            Bordieu’s article on the “aesthetic disposition” is the perfect one to apply to this program because it is, after all, the tastes of the privileged class – those “members of the dominant class” who “are alone able to make their art of living one of fine arts” (206) – who determine the worth of objects.  Appraisals offered by antiques experts are based on what the item could fetch in a room full of rich collectors who ascribe arbitrary worth to arbitrary items.  This explains why a painting of different colored rectangles in a grid has the potential to fetch the same amount ($100,000) as Bert Lahr’s signed, original script from The Wizard of Oz. 

            While on the subject of Bordieu, I want to call attention to his discussion of the working class’s relationship to aesthetics and taste.  It is presumptuous and elitist to assume that those who do not have the same buying power as upper classes are “ignorant of manner and style” and only like generically pretty things (206-7).   If the Antiques Roadshow tells us anything about the tastes of middle America, which runs the gamut of class stratification, it is that sentimental value outweighs taste in most cases.  To the viewer, the interest may come down to the excitement of monetary value, but to the people onscreen, value is a mere legitimation of their belief in pricelessness. 

Apologies for quality of Youtube clip - this is the famous million-dollar find.

**As a final note, in light of our viewing a segment of An American Family, I would like to turn your attention to Nora Ephron's 1974 article, "No, But I Read the Book," in which she offers a feminist takedown of both the show and Pat Loud herself.  It's a fascinating and short read - I have a copy of the anthology if anyone's interested.