Free Leonardo's Lost Princess by Peter Silverman Page B

traditional methods of investigation used by experts and museum labs to achieve high-definition digitization in one operation. Cotte and Penicaut were quick to assert that they were not replacing conventional expertise. Explaining and defending their process, they wrote the following:
    We get no other pride than to remain ourselves, innovative, listening to art historians, experts, collectors and players of museum life whose knowledge we seek only to enrich by providing them new evidence, scientifically proven for more certification. We are not art historians. We are experts in scientific imagery for fine arts. Like it or not, these scientific measurements of multispectral paintings open a new area of investigation, in the same way that medical imaging has enabled practitioners to work better. These images should be commented on, analyzed, compared and shared. Deny to Lumiere Technology, inventor of such process, the right to exist and to comment on the images under the pretext that we are not art historians is nonsense. Like radiologists, we provide a checkup, a first observation, and then refine it for other professionals. The only requirement for expertise and study is the use of more efficient tools to search for the truth. The multispectral analysis, as a scientific measurement of the substance of the artwork, seems to be one of the most sophisticated, if not the most successful. It is never too late to recognize a breakthrough and to use it. 12

    On a spring day in 2008, I rode up to the front entrance of Lumiere Technology on the back of Cappuzzo’s Vespa scooter, clutching the portrait in my arms. (Kathy nearly fainted when she learned about my cavalier means of transporting our priceless lady. I don’t know what I was thinking—perhaps it was a reckless yearning to spit in the face of propriety. Fortunately, we arrived safely!) I carefully dismounted and carried my precious package into the building, where I was greeted by a beaming Pascal Cotte. I liked him immediately. He was vibrating with warmth and enthusiasm. I turned over my treasure, telling him only that it had been attributed to an unknown nineteenth-century artist.
    He asked me to be seated while he took a quick preliminary look, and he disappeared with the package. He was back within half an hour, his face flushed and his eyes gleaming. He bounced excitedly on the balls of his feet. “Do you know what you have?” he asked.
    I feigned ignorance, not wishing to let him know I knew. I wanted him to form a totally independent opinion.
    “On a hunch, I ran a digital scan of your drawing through my database and came up with many similarities that intrigued me,” Cotte said. “I believe this may be a portrait by Leonardo.”
    I grinned and admitted my suspicions. “I didn’t want to influence you,” I explained.
    Cotte was trying to contain his enthusiasm and view the matter objectively. This was a different challenge than investigating a painting like Mona Lisa , which had a proven authorship. Could he also use his technology to detect authorship?
    With Cappuzzo’s help making arrangements, we sent a tiny sliver of the vellum to be carbon-dated at the Swiss Federal Institute of Technology in Zurich. This was a crucial part of the authentication. If it were determined that the parchment was of a later era, all bets were off. And so the process began.
    Carbon-14 dating is a chemical examination based on the way natural elements age, and it can be used to test a material or substance that has a biological origin—such as vellum, cloth, or wood. Carbon is breathed in by animals and plants through the carbon dioxide in the atmosphere. Carbon-14, one of three carbon isotopes, is radioactive and subject to decay over a very long period. Its half-life is 5,730 years, which means that in that period, half of the carbon-14 isotopes will have decayed. By measuring the percentage of carbon-14 that remains in a test sample, it is possible to determine its age to