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October 27, 2026

Welcome Home, Kannappa Nayanar: Now Explain How You Got to TEFAF


Last week, a stolen 11th century bronze statue of Kannappa Nayanar arrived back to its country of origin having been repatriated from the Netherlands to the Government of India.  The idol was delivered home along with a group of previously relinquished royal charter plates issued by the Chola-era Kings during the 11th century CE which had earlier been voluntarily relinquished by Leiden University Library.  


The newly-returned idol is a Chola-era bronze dating from the 11th century CE, which depicts a fierce and noble-hearted hunter named Thinnan, who is one of Shaivism’s most revered devotees.  Celebrated for his unwavering devotion to Lord Shiva, Thinnan is also known as Kannappa Nayanar, one of 63 revered Shiva saints who spearheaded the early medieval Bhakti movement in South India and who offered his own eyes (Kanna) in worship.

His historic journey from hunter to greatest devotee of Lord Shiva, giving virtually all that he had, is immortalised in the 12th century Hindu text Periya Puranam, which tells the story of the canonical poets of Tamil Shaivism, recounting the lives of the saints.

For more than a decade, this sacred statue of living worship, lay far from the land and community that revered it.  Its absence felt long before its whereabouts were determined.  

The idol’s silence was broken when two experts  from ARCA, Stefano Alessandrini and Ibrahim Bulut, attended The European Fine Art Fair (TEFAF) in March 2025.  There, they each photographed the Kannappa on a large display pedestal at the booth of Marcel Nies Oriental Art and forwarded the images to me. 

Recognising that the statue was not merely a unique lost-wax sculpture of beauty, but an idol whose sole purpose would have been for daily worship, I shared the concerning images with Vijay Kumar, the cofounder of India Pride Project, a civil society and provenance research organisation with access to archival material and tools to advocate for the return of stolen cultural property from India.  

IPP in turn sent ARCA's photo taken at the European fair to ADSP Shri. Balamurugan of the Idol Wing CID of the Tamil Nadu police.  Balamurugan in turn shared photos from the statue's discovery, and identified the original FIR denouncing the idol's theft from the Arulmigu Agneeswarar Temple in Tiruppugazhur, Nagapattinam district in Tamil Nadu state in southern India.

The stolen idol, created as a focus of ritual, prayer, and presence, was one of 27 bronzes rediscovered in a buried hoard unearthed when the temple premises were being dug during the construction of a Appar Mandapa (a temple hall) named in honour of the Shaivite saint Appar.  The bronze was made during the rule of a powerful dynasty of temple-builders and Shaivite patrons and belongs to a tradition in which sacred sculpture embodies a divine presence.  

The hoard may have been buried on the temple grounds for safekeeping during the upheavals surrounding Malik Kafur’s invasion of the Pandya kingdom in the early fourteenth century when Nagapattinam was the most important port of the Chola empire.  Its concealment would have offered protection against plunder and the destruction or melting down of sacred images, although the circumstances of its  particular burial remain to be explored.

Centuries later, and before it had been fully cleaned, the bronze was stolen and smuggled out of India.  This removal severed its bond with the local Hindu community and prompted a theft investigation that, until the idol resurfaced in the Netherlands, had yielded few leads.  

2002 Excavation photos

While the European fair was still under way, Kumar used IPP's sophisticated proprietary AI tool, named after India's historic archer Ekalavya, to digitally removed the encrustations from the idol's discovery photos.  He then matched strategic points between the India's hoard photos with the one taken by ARCA of the now-cleaned bronze being offered for sale, noting that the bronze at TEFAF retained the same physical proportions as the one photographed on Nies stand at the fair.

Having identified strong correspondences in the object's contour analysis, and histogram comparison, Kumar then forwarded his findings to Tamil Nadu’s Idol Wing, noting that both the documented discovery and the subsequent police First Information Report (FIR) postdated the entry into force of India’s Antiquities and Art Treasures Act, 1972.   Taken together, the photographic identification and documented chronological evidence supported the case that the idol had been illicitly removed from India.  The Act restricts the export of antiquities, including qualifying sculptures and metal objects at least 100 years old, to the Central Government or its agencies. 

The case was then taken up by Pravesh Kumar, Inspector General of Police, Idol Wing CID, and the Archaeological Survey of India in Delhi, who formally initiated proceedings with the Dutch authorities and their respective ministries.   On 23 March 2025, following up on the request by the Indian authorities, the Dutch police seized the bronze and placed it in the custody.  

Their ensuing investigation ultimately led the Belgian dealer to relinquish the statue voluntarily, which cleared the way for last week's voluntary return, done without fanfare or formal announcement by the Dutch authorities.  ARCA only learned of the object's return after its quietly arrival back in India. 

While the return of the Kannappa Nayanar is a welcome culmination of a year and a half of hopeful waiting, the silence surrounding its return does raise a broader concern about the diplomatic politics of discretionary restitutions: arrangements in which objects are voluntarily returned on the condition that the resolution remains outside official press statements, thus insulating a dealer or collector from deeper public scrutiny.  Such arrangements may offer an expedient route to repatriation, but they can also carry serious consequences for investigations and provenance due diligence.  

When legally binding restitution agreements restrict disclosure of how a stolen idol entered Europe, from whom it was acquired, and who facilitated its movement through the art market, researchers such as those working at ARCA and India Pride Project may lose access to evidence that could help reconstruct trafficking routes, establish timelines, and identify individuals connected to other cases.  The Netherlands' discreet and diplomatic silence in this case does not establish that such conditions applied to this particular return, or that information was withheld from investigators, but the concern is what provenance information can be lost to forensic researchers when National agencies are bound and beholding to confidentiality agreements negotiated as part of a voluntary relinquishment.

In such circumstances, a dealer who relinquishes an object assuredly suffers the financial loss of his/her investment through the voluntary return of the piece, but that is the full extent of their consequence.  Shielded by confidentiality, they are spared the more probing examination of how the stolen object was acquired, what inquiries were made to ascertain its legitimate origin at the time of the object's acquisition, and at what point if any, were warning signs missed, or perhaps intentionally overlooked. 

Confidentiality can deny collectors, institutions, and art market peers information that might prompt them to question their own acquisitions. The public receives a perfunctory account of resolution, while art crime researchers lose access to evidence that could connect objects, transactions, and the actors who repeatedly circulate suspect material. What disappears behind that silence is the opportunity to recognise a pattern, trace other displaced objects, and prevent the next acquisition from repeating the same failures.

As a result, accountability within the collector and dealer communities isn't triggered.  

At ARCA, we understand that when a Shaivite idol is stolen, its community experiences the abduction of a divine presence.  Its return last week will begin to heal a rupture, allowing worship to resume and restoring the sacred to its rightful place within the living rhythm of ritual life.  But restitution should also open the way to accountability.  

Given the concerns raised about other objects circulated by Marcel Nies’s Antwerp gallery over the past decade, forensic researchers focused on Asian art will continue to explore how many suspect pieces may have passed through his hands, from whom they were acquired, and where they are now.  One problematic acquisition might be explained as an oversight.  But repeated dealings in suspect material by an experienced and founding dealer presenting artefacts annually at TEFAF requires a fuller scrutiny which isn't diminished simply by discreetly offering to return an  object when the National authorities come knocking. 

The voluntary return of this idol is welcome, but it doesn't purchase silence about its acquisition nor close the door on further scrutiny.  Returning the object answers the question of where it belongs.  It does not answer for how it came to be offered for sale in the first place.

By:  Lynda Albertson

February 21, 2026

When Provenance, Policy, and Limited Museum Due Diligence Rings Old (Alarm) Bells

Few dates have shaped museum acquisition practice as profoundly as 1970. The adoption of the UNESCO Convention on the Means of Prohibiting and Preventing the Illicit Import, Export and Transfer of Ownership of Cultural Property has come to function not only as a legal reference point but as a moral dividing line. In many institutions, an object documented outside its country of origin before 1970 encounters fewer obstacles. After 1970, the questions begin in earnest.

But what happens when the decisive date is 1969?

In 2004, the National Carillon Museum in Asten, now known as the Museum Klok & Peel, purchased this iron age bronze temple bell attributed to the Dong Son culture and dated to the second century BCE.  The bell, 57 cm in height, was acquired by the Dutch museum via Antwerp dealer, Marcel Nies.  According to the information supplied by the dealer it had been excavated in Battambang, Cambodia, exported to Thailand in 1969, transported to Italy in 2000, and eventually made its way to Belgium in 2003 where it was bought by the museum in 2004 and assigned inv. no. 3149 O 457.

To finance the acquisition, the museum applied for a subsidy from the Brabant Museum Foundation, but the Foundation hesitated.  Was the purchase compatible with international agreements governing cultural property? It asked the Ethical Code Committee for Museums - formerly the Museum Code of Conduct Committee to review the case.

The Commission framed its advice around two questions: whether the museum had complied with the relevant provisions of the professional code of ethics, and whether it had exercised sufficient care in investigating the provenance of the bell. The export date of 1969 was noted as falling just before the 1970 UNESCO Convention. Although the Netherlands had not ratified the Convention at that time, the Dutch ethical code expected museums to act in accordance with its spirit.

The Commission acknowledged that the proximity of 1969 to 1970 might raise doubts. Nevertheless, it found no reason to question the stated circulation of the piece as supplied by Nies. On that basis, it concluded that illicit trade, as defined under the code, was not at issue and that the acquisition had been carried out with appropriate care. The Brabant Museum Foundation accepted the advice and the purchase proceeded.

The advice, however, was not unanimous. One member of the commission dissented and stated that he "would have been in favour of asking the opinion of the government of the country of origin in order to overcome the one-sidedness of the information available to the purchaser".  If doubt existed regarding provenance, as he believed it did, the museum should not proceed.  Even before 1970, he argued, the object should not have left Cambodia without authorisation from the relevant authorities. 

This minority view will later take on greater resonance.

In 2005, Jos van Beurden revisited the case in the academic journal Culture Without Context. His analysis focused on two aspects that had received relatively light treatment in the Commission’s recommendation.  The first concerned the certainty of the 1969 date. The Commission had referred to the possible coincidence of 1969 and 1970 but ultimately accepted the dealer’s account's of the object's circulation. Yet, in subsequent conversations Nies reportedly described 1969 as only "most probable" rather than definitive. The boundary between acceptable and problematic rested on a date that was not firmly documented, and instead amounts to hearsay. 

The second issue concerned Cambodian law. The assertion that no permission was required for export from Cambodia to Thailand sits uneasily with information we know about Cambodia's cultural property laws.  Extensive legal protections for Cambodia's cultural heritage date to the French colonial period, the early years of the country's independence, the Khmer Rouge period, as well as modern times.

In 1863, a treaty between France and the Kingdom of Cambodia established Cambodia as a protectorate of France. In 1884, a Convention between the Kingdom of Cambodia and France gave the administrative power of the State to the French, giving the French Governor for Cambodia power over all territory.

Both a 1900 decree law and a 1925 decree expressly state Cambodian cultural artefacts as being the property of the state.  According to these, no object could be exported without the authorisation of the Governor General, something the Dutch museum's bell does not have. 

Following the adoption of a new Constitution in 1993, earlier existing laws remained in force unless expressly repealed.  Legal experts, including former Director of UNESCO's Department of Cultural Heritage Lyndel Prott, supported the view that the 1925 legislation had not been abrogated by the intervening turmoil of the Khmer Rouge period.  If her interpretation was correct, the removal of the bell from Cambodia without authorisation would have been in contravention of domestic law, regardless of whether it occurred before or after 1970. Taken into focus, the dissenting commissioner’s suggestion therefore that Cambodian authorities should have been consulted before this object's purchase now appears less an outlier than a missed opportunity.

Despite this, the museum’s co-founder and curator, Dr AndrĂ© Lehr (1929-2007),  defended the acquisition that the Ethical Commission had approved. What more, he asked, could reasonably be required?  Implicit in that response was a narrower understanding of cultural heritage, one that placed greater weight on monumental works of art than on portable everyday religious objects. 

Yet for source countries such as Cambodia, portable antiquities are integral to the archaeological record as well as to national cultural identity. The distinction between movable and immovable, monumental or portable has little relevance in the country's heritage law and even less in the lived experience of loss among its  people. 

But this Asten case illustrates how the year 1970 has come to function as a kind of ethical shorthcut. For many institutions, “pre-1970” suggests relative safety, while “post-1970” triggers more rigorous investigation.  Over time, the date has risked becoming less a reference point for inquiry than a substitute for it.  If a buyer can be convinced that an object can plausibly be placed outside its country of origin before 1970, the intensity of scrutiny may diminish.

The difficulty is that plausible is not the same as proven.

The later history of a similar Dong Son bell underscores this point. In 2005, the British antiquities dealer Douglas Latchford donated a Dong Son bell (accession number: 2005.105) to the Denver Art Museum.  No provenance or publication history accompanied the artefact. 

A prominent collector and dealer in Southeast Asian antiquities, living in Thailand, Latchford was indicted in the United States for crimes related to a many-year scheme to sell hundreds of looted Cambodian antiquities on the international art market.  In September 2020, the indictment against him was dismissed following is death. 

Prior to his Denver donation, Latchford had attempted to sell two other Dong Son bells to a private American buyer one year before the Dutch museum purchased their own from Nies.  In a 2003 email Latchford described the bells as rare and referred to a recent find in the Battambang region of northwestern Cambodia, noting that he had been able to obtain several examples. Photographs taken before cleaning of these objects showed encrustations consistent with recent excavation not a storied life in a permanent collection.

In November 2021, the United States Attorney for the Southern District of New York announced a civil forfeiture complaint seeking the return of four looted Cambodian antiquities from the Denver Art Museum.  Three of these, including the Dong Son bell were gifts from Douglas Latchford, while the forth had been purchased by the Thai-based dealer outright.  Later that month, the DAM deaccessioned the pieces from its collection and they were picked up by U.S. officials for return to Cambodia

While the Denver case does not establish that the bell acquired by the Dutch museum in Asten is illicit, it does, however, reveal how narratives once accepted as adequate can later unravel.  References to a “recent find,” coupled with physical evidence of fresh excavation, transformed what might once have been treated as plausible provenance into grounds for forfeiture.  And Latchford's association with other Dong Son bells from Battambang further sharpens our scrutiny of the Dutch bell's collection story.

While there are other instances of bells of this type in circulation within the art market. the parallels in both museum acquisitions are difficult to ignore.  Both the Denver and the Assen bells are stated to have been found in Battambang and both circulated through Thailand where Latchford lived and operated.  

Both also have limited to no documentation with a heavy reliance on the donor or dealer's stated account as to their origins.  And in both cases, institutional approval was based on circumstantial information provided by the individual proffering the work for aquisition or donation.

Marcel Nies has stated in the past that he never sold any piece on behalf of Latchford directly and that he wasn’t aware of the gravity of the allegations against the antiquities dealer until he was indicted.  Despite this, seven artefacts in Nies  publications match to Skanda Trust artefacts which were published in Latchford’s and Emma Bunker's books.  

Formed in June 2011 Skanda Trust was an offshore vehicle registered in Jersey in the Channel Islands, where antiquities Latchford owned could be held in trust, sheltered from the government investigation, and with his daughter Julia Latchford listed as a trustee.  Likewise a "privately owned" Dong Son bell is illustrated in: Emma C. Bunker and Douglas Latchford, Adoration and Glory, The Golden Age of Khmer Art, Chicago 2004, no. 2.

For cultural policy observers, the comparisons are instructive. It suggests that the absence of disconfirming evidence at a given moment does not resolve underlying uncertainty.  It also highlights the evolving expectations placed on museums today as what was considered reasonable due diligence in the early 2000s may no longer suffice.

Back in 2004, the dissenting member of the Dutch Ethical Commission proposed a straightforward step: consult the source country.  At the time, that suggestion did not prevail.  

Today, direct engagement with source-country authorities and subject matter forensic researchers is increasingly viewed as standard due diligence practice when documentation is incomplete, vague, or contradictory.  The burden of proof is finally shifting toward demonstrating lawful export rather than relying on the absence of proof to the contrary.

This shift reflects broader changes in the governance of cultural property. Source countries have become more assertive in seeking restitution and international cooperation has intensified.  High-profile cases involving traffickers have exposed the fragility of dealer-based narratives where once vague provenance statements like: Private collection Italy, 2000 once sufficed.  As result, forward-thinking museums have responded by strengthening provenance research, enhancing transparency and, in some cases, revisiting past acquisitions.  

The bronze bell purchased in Asten in 2004 sits at the intersection of these complex developments.  The Dutch Ethical Commission concluded that the Assen acquisition complied with the applicable code and that sufficient care had been taken.  Within the framework applied at the time, that conclusion may have been defensible.  Yet the minority opinion and subsequent events invite reconsideration of what sufficiency should mean.

The 1970 Convention remains a cornerstone of international cultural property policy. It provides an essential baseline.  But it was never intended to function as a rubber stamp date for hypothetical transactions that left their countries of origin in circumstances that remain unclear.  Treating 1970 as a bright line can obscure the continuing relevance of domestic export laws and the ethical imperative to seek clarity when doubt arises.

The Asten and Denver bells together illustrate a larger point.  Provenance research is not merely an administrative exercise.  It is an inquiry that unfolds, sometimes over decades, shaped by new evidence, evolving norms and changing relationships between museums, identified bad actors in the art market and source countries. 

Decisions that appeared settled in one decade now look provisional in the next.

By Lynda Albertson