Several years ago, I pur-chased a beautiful painting at a garage sale for $3. The scene seemed very familiar, but I didn’t linger on my analysis of the piece. I loved it, paid for my purchases and went on to the next sale.

Later that day, I brought my newly acquired painting into the house, sat down, and gave it a quick once over. The painting is unsigned, so I pulled out all my art-related books to see if I could find the artist who painted the piece, to no avail.

Three months ago, while scanning through my online home page, lo and behold, my painting popped up on the page. Oh my gosh, I have a Rembrandt!

I am one of the few lucky people who found a real treasure at a bargain price. In my head I was already spending the millions of dollars I would get once I sell the piece at auction. I called my father and hus-band. “We are going to be rich,” I said and proceeded to tell them the story behind my amazing find.

I was literally trembling as I gently took the painting down from the office wall to really scrutinize the piece. The painting is of Rembrandt and Saskia, Rembrandt’s wife, in the scene “The Prodigal Son in the Tavern,” circa 1635.

My painting is oil on can-vas, just like the original, and it is about the correct size based on the informa-tion in my resource book.

There are appropriate signs of wear to the front, and it looks to me like someone put new stretcher bars on it. It has contemporary staples holding the canvas in place. I quickly dismissed these minor inconsistencies. A painting of this age probably needed new stretcher bars.

Mine is not signed “F. Rembrandt” like the original, but I was justifying all of this to myself, and I can be pretty convincing when I want to be.

The brain is a powerful instrument. The story I wove around my painting is that Rembrandt had to have painted more than one of this particular scene as a practice run. The one I held in my hands was the true original and that is why it was not signed. It has been rolled up and hidden away in a cedar chest for centuries, just waiting for me to come along and purchase it.

Well, the proverbial bubble eventually burst. I sent photos to a noted auction house to have it evaluated and assured them that I would let them sell it for me and we would all become very wealthy. The conclu-sion was that I own a very well-executed copy of undetermined age, but most likely it was painted in the 20th century. The auction value for my painting is around $200.

Recently while in Texas – that trip was a doozy and the story will be coming soon – I was driving through a neighborhood on big trash pickup day, a gentleman had just placed a beautiful painting on the curb. I immediately hopped out of the car and grabbed it. I took the painting back to the RV and placed it where the sun would not shine on it.

Later that day while sitting in the RV to escape the Texas heat of 104 degrees, I examined my free find. It is a beautiful woman in a blue dress, sitting in a thoughtful pose at a desk, and is signed “D’yf.” It is oil on canvas with an aged backing board. I didn’t have an Internet connection, so I had to use my cell phone to do a bit of research. The results came up as “Claudine and The Red Rose” by Marcel Dyf. My painting has a pink rose, so I am going with that the rose faded over time.

Marcel Dyf (1899 – 1985) was active/lived in France. Dyf is known for landscape, figure, floral still life and seascape painting. He had little formal artistic training but owed much of his inspiration to the great masters of the past such as Rembrandt, whom he particularly admired, Vermeer and Tiepolo.*

Do I have a true Dyf painting? I highly doubt it, but I still need to remove the backing board and take a peek at the canvas. Maybe I will find something mar-velous behind this lovely lady. One can hope.

So, why am I sharing these stories with you? To illustrate the fact that no matter how knowledgeable you are in antiques and collectibles, it is very easy to get caught up in the moment and have all common sense leave the building.