When floodwaters tore through Lauchlan Lodge in Puketapu during Cyclone Gabrielle, Jen Bain-Titter and her husband, Mark, were lucky to escape with their lives after climbing out through a high window. They lost everything, including a number of treasured artworks. But this week, there was a surprising twist. It seems one of their paintings “followed” them through the window. The painting, of a young boy wearing a wide-brimmed hat, collared shirt and coat, and with a slightly hesitant, possibly dreamy, look in his eyes, was recovered 2km away.
Joseph Story was clearing a line for a fence at a nearby property when something in the long grass caught his eye. Discovering it was a badly damaged painting, he picked it and took home where he washed it. He posted a picture on Facebook, asking if it belonged to someone, which is where Bain-Titter saw it. A few hours later, the couple were reunited with the painting which had been in their former home for two decades.
All too often, though, artworks that vanish are more likely to have been stolen. In this 2016 Listener story, Penelope Jackson, an art historian, independent curator and the author of Art Thieves, Fakers and Fraudsters: The New Zealand Story, the first book on New Zealand art crime, explained why – and warned of the dangers of fraudulent pieces.
In 2008, retired couple Bill and Phyllis Gibson put their Mosgiel house on the market. Over the following weeks, as potential buyers drifted in and out, a portrait by CF Goldie given to Phyllis’s parents by the artist disappeared. It was never seen again.
Over half a century earlier, in 1942, a thief or thieves unknown (although the finger was pointed at US servicemen) sneaked into Christchurch’s Robert McDougall Art Gallery and carefully removed a 1902 painting by British artist Solomon J Solomon from its frame. It, too, never reappeared.
“Cultural property”, including art, is estimated to be the third most commonly trafficked commodity in the world after drugs and arms. The FBI reports increasing levels of art crime from terrorist groups and organised crime networks, including catastrophic theft and destruction by Islamic State in Syria and Iraq.
But thefts and forgeries are routinely hushed up – out of shame, fear of copycats, or the realisation that, in New Zealand especially, your case is unlikely to be solved. “When there are child abuse and murder cases to investigate, art crime isn’t seen as a high priority,” says Penelope Jackson, an art historian, independent curator and the author of Art Thieves, Fakers and Fraudsters: The New Zealand Story, the first book on New Zealand art crime. “Wrongly, it can be seen as a victimless crime.”
Such crimes, writes Jackson, can end up in a “dumping ground” for difficult or obscure cases where they are neglected by overworked detectives with little knowledge or understanding of the area. Late last year, police case-management specialist Catherine Gardner looked up “art crime” in the force’s archives; she discovered 93 cases, one of which was the theft of hair extensions.
As detection techniques for uncovering forgeries have become more sophisticated – Auckland Art Gallery principal conservator Sarah Hillary is a hero in this arena – so, too, have methods for faking works. Cheap, flawless digital knock-offs have poured out of China, with the signature and a little paint dabbed on for authenticity, as well as hand-painted copies of masterpieces from villages such as Dafen, on the outskirts of Beijing, where Van Gogh’s Sunflowers is the most popular request.
Europe has a longer and more in-depth knowledge of art crime. Art looting was widespread during World Wars I and II – Hitler, a frustrated artist, cherry-picked art from the occupied territories for a planned personal museum. Interpol lists Europe as art crime’s “most-affected” region, followed by Latin America, the Middle East and North and Sub-Saharan Africa.
In France, controversially, fraudulent artworks have been destroyed lest they find their way back onto the market to be resold as genuine articles. In London, the Metropolitan Police established the Art and Antiques Unit in 1969. It also has many experts on hand to assist with its work, as well as access to national and international databases listing stolen or forged art works.
The Australian Federal Police and the FBI’s art crime team have met to discuss information-sharing and how to set up an art crimes unit across the Tasman. But resources here are more limited. The police have no specialist art crime officers or training, there is no database of stolen or forged works and the public remain somewhat naive about the long and significant history of art crime in this country.
“Anywhere there is art history there is art crime, and it is huge. There is really no town or city in New Zealand that has escaped it,” says Jackson. “I am not pointing the finger, but some people have been a bit gullible over time. If we buy a house, we do all these checks: we get a LIM report, we get a sparky in. Even when you buy a second-hand car, you get a mechanic to look it over. When people buy an artwork, how often do they get a second opinion? Not very often.”
Jackson is a trustee of the New Zealand Art Crime Research Trust, which hosted the country’s first art crime symposium in Wellington. She says knowledge of art crimes is “significantly better than a decade ago” in a small country with no official department dedicated to researching and preventing it, but the art world is left to “police” its domain.
“A lot of people working in regional art galleries have come through degree courses such as art history or museum studies now, and that has helped. So has the internet and easier access to overseas galleries and art journals. Some of the crimes that happened 10 years ago would have been caught today.”
A number of infamous and dramatic art crimes have made headlines here. These include the exploits of Goldie forger Karl Sim, the Dunedin Art Gallery’s unknowing acquisition of five stolen Macchiaiolis (works by a group of Tuscan artists from the late-19th century), the politically motivated theft of McCahon’s Urewera mural, and the many forged Lindauers that continue to surface and fool buyers. In 2013, the Alexander Turnbull Library bought a fake Lindauer for more than $75,000.
Added to these high-profile cases are lesser-known but no less serious crimes: the theft of Psyche and Leda and the Swan from the Robert McDougall Art Gallery (both female nudes – coincidence or not?), the ongoing theft and vandalism of public statues nationwide – particularly bronze works, which may be valued in the hundreds of thousands of dollars but worth only a couple of hundred when sold as scrap – and prized, much-loved pieces from private homes that may have been in the family for generations but were never insured or photographed.
Jackson, to the best of her knowledge, has never been fooled by a fake, but she has not escaped unscathed, either. When she was the director of Tauranga Art Gallery in 2012, an opportunistic thief stole two small canvases from Wakey, Wakey, Wakey, an installation by John Reynolds inspired by a trip to the Kermadecs. At the time, Jackson hushed up the theft, and the canvases were rapidly replaced by the artist. But the experience shook her.
“For gallery staff, the theft was a wake-up call,” she writes in the book. “It had happened right under our noses, despite security cameras and diligent observation. Not wanting the public to realise the small canvases were an easy target, I had not reported the incident to the police or media.”
In another instance, Jackson profiled the painting Welcome Morsels, by British painter Leonard Charles Nightingale, for the Press newspaper. The painting was in the Robert McDougall Art Gallery collection.
Days later, she received an irate phone call: why had Jackson profiled and photographed the caller’s private family picture without permission?
“Art students have often copied from the masters to learn their craft,” says Jackson, who discovered Welcome Morsels had routinely been copied – for educational purposes – by Canterbury College School of Art students.
“But when these pieces are passed on or in the family for a long time, people may begin to believe they have an original, not a copy. Copies are not always intentionally meant to deceive people.”
Jackson believes dealers and galleries have become more careful about researching a work’s provenance, but the temptation remains to be “wilfully ignorant” when a valuable, but possibly shady, work is offered.
“Many people don’t want to know too much about the background of a work. They just feel fortunate to have acquired it. And that indicates a serious problem with ethics.”
To catch a thief – tips for avoiding fakes:
Penelope Jackson recommends these simple steps to guard against buying hot art.
Provenance: Be vigilant about researching the history of ownership. If there are gaps in a work’s history, ask questions.
Second opinion: Though public art gallery and museum curators are tentative about authenticating works, they can offer good advice.
Verification: Contact the artist if he or she is still alive. Many artists have their own websites or can be traced through their dealer. Ask the artist for a certificate of authentication, which legitimises and makes it easier to on-sell a work.
Condition: Request a condition report. This will reveal any conservation needing to be carried out and whether the work is made by who the seller says it is.
Source: Buy from a reputable source, especially if you’re spending what you consider is a large sum of money. Buying through online auctions can be risky. Reputable auction houses have seven-day out clauses.
Cover: Make sure you have adequate insurance cover for what you buy.
Art Thieves, Fakers and Fraudsters: The New Zealand Story by Penelope Jackson (Awa Press, $40)
This article was first published in the October 29, 2016 issue of the Listener.
