In October of 1935, Mussolini invaded Ethiopia in accordance with his plan to resurrect the ancient Roman Empire and restore dignity and prosperity to the Italian people. Emulating his imperial predecessors, who crowned their military victories by looting and plundering the sacred treasures of the conquered peoples, Mussolini personally ordered the removal of one of the monumental obelisks of Axum to Rome as war booty. The mammoth 1,700 year old monument, a potent symbol of Ethiopian independence and national identity, was inextricably linked to the Ethiopian's heritage, a cherished symbol of a sophisticated civilization that had once rivaled that of Rome. Mussolin's appropriation of this emotionally charged symbol unequivocally conveyed his message to the world that Ethiopia was now Italian. While Italy was soon forced to relinquish its brief "place in the sun" with the defeat of the Axis powers in 1945, the looted obelisk would remain in Rome for another sixty-eight years, an unsettling reminder of Italy's fascist past and an ongoing insult to Ethiopian sovereignty. Delays over its restitution spawned a controversy that was only resolved in 2005, when the last segment of the obelisk was finally returned to its homeland. The saga of the restitution of the Axum obelisk reflects current debates over repatriation of artifacts seized as war booty by colonial powers, and provides an encouraging example of how, after years of injustice, the fabric of peace and friendship can be rewoven when countries respect each other's cultural heritage.

We begin this new, regular column on the underworld of antiquities trading with a follow-up to my article in the last issue of JAC (Spring 2013), 'A Marble Statue of a Boy at the Virginia Museum of Fine Arts'. 

[...]

Facts and Evidence 

An Apulian Gnathia askos with a spout formed in the shape of a woman's head appears in 2 Polaroid images (nos. CD 3, racc. 82, pag. 31, foto 6 and CD 3, racc. 82, pag. 32, foto 2) from the confiscated archive of the convicted antiquities dealer Giacomo Medici. The vase is depicted uncleaned, standing on a large, creased white sheet of paper, reassembled from various fragments, missing the entire left side of its rim and various chips of clay from its neck and shoulder.

In September 2013, the classical bronze statue known as the Cleveland Apollo went on display at the Cleveland Museum of Art, as part of a special focus exhibition, “Praxiteles: the Cleveland Apollo” (September 29, 2013-January 5, 2014). The statue had been purchased in 2004. The installation is accompanied by a fully illustrated handbook by Cleveland curator, Michael Bennett (Bennett 2013). This statue appears to represent the Apollo Sauroktonos, a work attributed to the classical sculptor Praxiteles. Its addition to the corpus of attributable works post-dates Aileen Ajootian’s study of Praxiteles (Ajootian 1996, esp. 116-22). Bennett makes a number of important art historical observations in his study, not least in the possible association of the statue with Delphi, and the more radical suggestion that Apollo is not skewering a “lizard” but rather the Delphic Python. But such points, though interesting and worth exploring, need not detain us here. (As an aside, the “lizard” is an important play of words in the ownership of a Roman marble copy of the Apollo Sauroktonos by Charles Ricketts and Charles Shannon, a work bequeathed to the Fitzwilliam Museum: Darracott 1980, 120 [ill.]). 

Bennett has chosen to go beyond an art historical study of the statue to launch a strong-worded defence for the right of museums to acquire newly-surfaced works. There are two areas worth exploring at this point: first, the collecting history of the history and the supporting scientific analyses; second, the wider debate about collecting and archaeological ethics. 

The acquisition of the Apollo is placed by Bennett in the long tradition of collecting antiquities that can be traced back to antiquity; this is an area now explored by Margaret M. Miles (Miles 2008). The removal of cultural property from one location to another can indeed be traced to antiquity. During the second millennium BCE, looted Middle Kingdom Egyptian inscribed funerary sculpture can be found redistributed in the Sudan, Anatolia, and Crete (Gill and Padgham 2005). In modern times, Grand Tourists acquired classical sculptures in Italy and displayed them in their country houses (e.g. Haskell and Penny 1981). Thus the collection formed by Thomas Brand and Thomas Brand Hollis (and displayed at The Hyde in Essex, England) went on to become the core of the Disney bequest to the University of Cambridge (Gill 1990a; Gill 2004). The enlightenment values that placed such emphasis on classical sculptures can be found in the roots of the great encyclopaedic British Museum, the repository for world cultures (Wilson 2002). But should the “plundering” of sites like Tivoli to provide items for visitors to Rome be considered in the same way as the deliberate destruction of a temple to the Roman imperial cult in the late twentieth century, to generate bronze imperial statues for the market (see Kozloff 1987)? Is the “exploration” of tombs in the area round the Bay of Naples to yield items for the Hamilton collection (Jenkins and Sloan 1996) the same as the deliberate destruction of Apulian tombs using mechanical diggers in the late twentieth century (Graepler and Mazzei 1996; Watson 1997)?

An arrest was made this summer of a Romanian thief who seems to have been behind the heist of artworks, including paintings by Matisse, from the Kunsthal Museum in the Netherlands about a year ago. The arrest would have made small headlines, but for the fact that the mother of the thief claims to have burned at least one of the stolen paintings after her son’s arrest, in an attempt to destroy evidence and help him avoid prison. Unfortunately, the mother’s statement is believable, as she described accurately the way an oil painting on canvas would have burned in her oven (“like tissues”), and charred fragments of canvas with paint on them, that could match the stolen Matisse, were found just where she said they would be.

This is not the first time that a foolish and ignorant mother has made a son’s art theft crime far worse by destroying the stolen art. The mother of Swiss waiter and art kleptomaniac Stephane Breitweiser, who stole over one-hundred paintings and kept every one, never attempting to sell them but rather adding to a compulsive private art collection, destroyed a number of the stolen works when her son was arrested. She threw some in a canal, and shoved others down her garbage disposal. When her son heard this, he tried to kill himself, so distraught was he at the grotesque stupidity of destroying art—art that he loved and cherished, albeit stole. 

There are almost no known cases in the history of art theft of thieves knowingly destroying stolen art, even when it seemed clear that they did not know how to profit from it. In the majority of known cases, thieves in such a situation have simply abandoned the stolen art, rather than destroy it—for destroying benefits no one, hurts everyone, and turns a kidnapping into a murder. This was the case for the 2004 Munch Museum theft—when thieves failed to find a buyer, and failed to secure a ransom for the stolen Munch paintings, including a version of The Scream, they simply abandoned the works in a parked car on a farm outside of Oslo. Art is sometimes damaged or destroyed inadvertently—the best information to date on the stolen Caravaggio Palermo Nativity, taken from the church of San Lorenzo in Palermo by members of Cosa Nostra in 1969 (the theft of which prompted the foundation of the world’s first art police unit, the Carabinieri Division for the Protection of Cultural Heritage, in Italy), is that the Caravaggio was irrevocably damaged in an earthquake and subsequently fed to pigs, to destroy the evidence. But such stories are rare indeed, thank goodness.

The purpose of this paper is to present and discuss a specific case of the destruction of Armenian cultural heritage, namely the Jugha Necropolis, which used to be full of Armenian Khachqars (Cross-stones) in Nakhijevan, Azerbaijan. Khachqars are delicately carved stones decorated with cross/es and other unique ornaments. The Jugha Necropolis was far from the area of the armed conflict initiated by Azerbaijan against Nagorno Karabakh as a result of self-determination movement. A ceasefire agreement was concluded between Armenia, Nagorno Karabakh and Azerbaijan in 1994.

Every nation or ethnic group has its own unique culture which is enshrined in monuments and passed from generation to generation. Each site and historical monument constitutes a separate page of the world book of existence of humankind and its development. Every single cultural object tells us history, encompasses respect towards ancestors, and reflects invisible energy and belief in its own strengths. To have a future we need to preserve our past. Cultural Heritage is a mirror of humanity and reflects a genetic wisdom of a particular nation, it drives us forward to explore and satisfy a natural, but endless curiosity as to who we are and where we are going. Notoriously, during wartime (as well as peacetime) the objects of Cultural Heritage are easily accessible targets, which can be destroyed and simply erased from the surface of our planet at once. War, undoubtedly, is a tragedy for all of humankind irrespective of nationality, gender, political as well as religious views and beliefs. War is often started for different reasons such as territory, treasure, political regime, ideological and/or religious beliefs, etc. By the destruction of Cultural Heritage, parties to a conflict are knowingly try to harm and destroy the cultural identity of a rival as much as possible and forever. Very often, the same behaviour occurs during “pretended peace-time”, or within the so-called period of ceasefire, even in places far from the armed conflict. Tangible objects of cultural heritage can become the most vulnerable targets of destruction and realization of an opposite party’s goals. In such cases there are no winners. As a result, the heritage of the world is affected and pages of common history are lost and erased. Armenia is an ancient country with a rich and unique Cultural Heritage, dating from the 4th BC. Armenia has inherited 33.000 historical and cultural monuments, which are under state protection and are included in the State Heritage Register. What of Armenia’s cultural heritage which, due to some past historical event, is now located within the borders of another State? This too can be subject to destruction related to armed conflict.

"Hermes-Thoth" marble once passed through the hands of Robin Symes

Buyers of antiquities are rightly concerned about buying objects that can be identified from the seized photographic archives such as the Medici Dossier and the Schinousa images that related to Robin Symes. Institutional reputation is also a factor and auction houses are wanting to distance themselves from any perception of endorsement of the illicit trade in antiquities.

The Medici Pan withdrawn by Sotheby's

The Medici Pan in Sotheby's seems to be a totally different case; it appears to lack any collecting history before 1975 and Sotheby's may have to explain when this antiquity passed through the hands of Medici and why Sotheby's did not refer to Medici as part of the collecting history of the object. I am sure that soon we will find out more interesting things about the case of The Medici Pan. 

Although the Hermes-Thoth head was sold with a collecting history before 1970, it is yet to be proved if it is still protected by any bilateral agreements between the US and other countries or breaks any national legislation. One question that Sotheby's may have to answer is when did the object pass through the hands of Robin Symes and Christos Michaelides.

Symes Pan withdrawn by Christie's

Regarding the Christie's Pan (lot 114), Christie's may have to answer why they withdrew the antiquity if it has a documented collecting history before 1970 (at least since 1968)? 

I am sure that in due course, more information will be found and will become available regarding these three cases.

As usual, the auction houses don't quite care about the past. Important, for them, is only money. I think they are not very ethical. And, at the end, after Christos Tsirogiannis pointed out a few objects he recognized, they decided to withdraw two main objects: which was the minimum they could do.

Looting Matters: Hermes-Thoth Image: Schinousa Archive

I am grateful to my Cambridge colleague Dr Christos Tsirogiannis for pointing out that the head of Hermes-Thoth due to be auctioned at Sotheby's New York next week had once passed through the hands of Robin Symes (December 12, 2013, lot 39). The estimate is $2.5-3.5 million.... Colour images of the head feature in the Schinousa archive where they were identified by Tsirogiannis.

By the late 1980s, Medici had developed commercial relations with other major antiquities dealers including Robin Symes, Frieda Tchacos, Nikolas Koutoulakis, Robert Hecht, and the brothers Ali and Hischam Aboutaam (Watson and Todeschini 2007: 73-4). He was the ultimate source of artefacts that would subsequently be sold through dealers or auction houses to private collectors, including Lawrence and Barbara Fleischman, Maurice Tempelsman, Shelby White and Leon Levy, the Hunt brothers, George Ortiz, and José Luis Várez Fisa (Watson and Todeschini 2007: 112-34; Isman 2010), and to museums including the J. Paul Getty, the Metropolitan Museum of Art, the Cleveland Museum of Art, and the Boston Museum of Fine Arts.

Sotheby's Hermes-Thoth

Investigative reporter Nikolas Zirganos took a special interest in the activities of British antiquities dealer Robin Symes, and was present in April 2006 when Greek police raided a villa on the island of Schinoussa belonging to Symes and his deceased partner Christos Michaelides. Zirganos described how the villa on Schinoussa was used for what he described as the ‘preparation and closing of deals’ (Zirganos 2007: 318). The villa was in effect a social and commercial hub, where Symes and Michaelides would entertain archaeologists, museum curators, conservators and wealthy collectors to gossip about the market and what was available for purchase, and to arrange sales. Thus, it was possible for a customer to purchase an illicit artefact on Schinoussa without actually coming into contact with it. The artefact would be smuggled separately to Switzerland, where the customer could take possession of it.

Last year, the Getty quietly returned 150 marble fragments in the collection (88.AA.140 - 88.AA.144) to Italy after evidence emerged that they joined objects found in the same looted tombs of Ascoli Satriano that produced the Getty's Griffins and statue of Apollo, which were returned to Italy in 2007. The objects and fragments were acquired in the 1980s from London dealer Robin Symes.

This photographic archive records the material that passed through the hands of a London-based dealer. If material from this archive resurfaces on the market, it would be reasonable to see the full collecting history indicated. But such information would no doubt be provided by rigorous due diligence searches.

Sotheby's New York are due to auction a giallo antico marble bust of Pan next week (December 12, 2013, lot 51). The estimate is $10,000-$15,000. Dr Christos Tsirogiannis has pointed out to me that a polaroid image of the sculpture was found on the Geneva Freeport premises of Giacomo Medici.

Tsirogiannis has now identified a terracotta Pan from the Schinousa archive that is due to be auctioned at Christie's Rockefeller Plaza (December 13, 2013, lot 114, estimate $8000 - $12000). Christie's have offered the following collecting history:

with Edward H. Merrin Gallery, New York, 1968.

Private Collection, New York, 1968-2011.

So when was the Pan in the possession of Robin Symes? What is the identity of the private collection? Is the collecting history presented by Christie's robust? What authenticated documentation was supplied to Christie's?

The Edward H. Merrin Gallery has been linked to the bronze Zeus returned to Italy, material in the collection of Dr Elie Borowski, as well as the marble Castor and Pollux on loan to New York's Metropolitan Museum of Art.

In the twentieth century, there has been the rise in the depiction of the art forger in non-fiction biographies and memoir. Distinct from scholarly research, these portrayals of individual art forgers have developed a common mythology, which weaves through each narrative. The art forger is mythicised as a hero; the failed artist protesting a corrupt art market dominated by greedy art dealers and scholars. In Australian culture, this mythology has its roots in the wider legend of hero criminal such as in the story of Ned Kelly and includes elements of the North American ‘trickster’ mythology. It also feeds into a broader anti-intellectualism and mistrust of the establishment, particularly in the depiction of art curators and connoisseurs. This mythology is evident in a number of biographies of notable forgers, such as Han van Meegeren and Elmyr de Hory, which intersect with the sub-genre of memoir, in the personal accounts of Tom Keating, Eric Hebborn and Ken Pereyni. These narratives fuel the ability of the forgers to construct their own public persona and feed into the wider mythology of the art forger.

“Art forgers are endowed with the same evil attractiveness as emanates from great criminals”. Thierry Lenain

Art historian Otto Kurz in his book, Fakes: a Handbook for Collectors and Students, summarizes the basis of the mythology of the art forger. He refers to the “often repeated story of the innocent forger, dished up every time one of the great forgers has been found out”. This mythology more or less follows the same narrative arc across each story: beginning with childhood struggle, such as Tom Keating, described as “born with every disadvantage except a loving mother, or Eric Hebborn, who described his maternal relationship, “as her favourite, my ears were those she liked to box the best, my bottom was the preferred target for an affectionate kick”. Most of the art forgers overcome their struggles through learning the tools of the art trade, working for restorers or conservators and slowly developing a common distain for the cultural elite and art market. Keating is characterized triumphing over adversity through his talents, as he “taught himself reading and achieved a much broader cultural than most of today’s A-level students and feather- bedded graduates”. The art forgers who began their career as failed artists rail against the agents of the market; dealers, gallery owners, critics and curators; whom they perceive as having wronged them. They begin to create forgeries, justifying their production on their perceived mistreatment by the cultural elite. This is evident in the case of Han van Meegeren, who trained as an artist and held a number of solo exhibitions before he began to forge old master painters. Some commentators claim it was series of poorly performing shows and negative reviews by Amsterdam’s arts community, which drove him to forge Vermeer. He allegedly refused the offer of critics, who approached van Meegeren for payment in return for positive appraisals of his shows, resulting in negative reviews. Jonathan Lopez dismisses the idea that he was pushed into forging, claiming that van Meegeren was creating forgeries well before this time, motivated purely by the money that more established artists could command.