Blog Subscription via Follow.it

Showing posts with label Napoleon. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Napoleon. Show all posts

July 15, 2015

Columnist Noah Charney on “Napoleon: Emperor of Art Theft” in "Lessons from the History of Art Crime" in the Spring 2015 issue of The Journal of Art Crime

In his regular column "Lessons from the History of Art Crime" Noah Charney writes on “Napoleon: Emperor of Art Theft” in the Spring 2015 issue of The Journal of Art Crimeedited by Charney (with Marc Balcells and Christos Tsirogiannis) and published by ARCA:
When Citizen Wicar, one of the key members of the art theft division of Napoleon's army, died in 1843, he bequeathed 1436 artworks as a gift to his birthplace, the city of Lille. Though most were works on papers (prints and drawings), this is an astonishing number. But there are two more facts about this bit of historical trivia that make it that much more surprising. First, almost all of these works had been stolen by him, personally, over the course of his service to the Napoleonic Army, in which he and several other officers were charged with selecting, removing, boxing up and shipping back to Paris art from the collection of those vanquished by la Grande Armee. Stealing over a thousand artworks is no small feat for a single person, even when with the sort of unrestricted access his position with the army allowed. Impressive enough, until we reach the second fact: Citizen Wicar had already sold most of the art he had stolen over the course of his post-war life, but still had those thousand odd pieces left over, to bequeath. In terms of quality, Citizen Wicar, who would serve as Keeper of Antiquities at the Louvre Museum, is the most prolific art thief in history. But it is his boss, Napoleon Bonaparte, who is often crowned with that title.
Noah Charney holds Masters degrees in art history from The Courtauld Institute and University of Cambridge, and a PhD from University of Ljubljana. He is Adjunct Professor of Art History at the American University of Rome, a Visiting Lecturer for Brown University abroad programs, and is the founder of ARCA, the Association for Research into Crimes against Art, a non-profit research group on issues of art crimes. Charney is the author of numerous academic and popular articles, including a regular column in ArtInfo called “The Secret History of Art” and a weekly interview series in The Daily Beast called “How I Write.” His first novel, The Art Thief (Atria 2007), is currently translated into seventeen languages and is a best seller in five countries. He is the editor of an academic essay collection entitled Art & Crime: Exploring the Dark Side of the Art World (Praeger 2009) and the Museum Time series of guides to museums in Spain (Planeta 2010). His is author of a critically acclaimed work of non-fiction, Stealing the Mystic Lamb: the True History of the World’s Most Coveted Masterpiece (PublicAffairs 2011), which is a best seller in two countries. His latest book is The Thefts of the Mona Lisa: On Stealing the World’s Most Famous Painting (ARCA Publications 2011). Upcoming books include The Art of Forgery (Phaidon 2015), The Collector of Lives: Giorgio Vasari and the Invention of Art (Norton 2015), and Art Crime: Terrorists, Tomb Raiders, Forgers and Thieves, an edited collection of essays on art crime (Palgrave 2014). 

Here's a link to ARCA's website about access to The Journal of Art Crime.

March 13, 2012

The Journal of Art Crime, Fall 2011: Diane Joy Charney reviews Terence M. Russell's "The Discovery of Egypt: Vivant Denon's Travels with Napoleon's Army" and Denon's erotic novel "No Tomorrow"

In the Fall 2011 Issue of The Journal of Art Crime, Diane Joy Charney reviews Terence M. Russell's The Discovery of Egypt: Vivant Denon's Travels with Napoleon's Army (Sutton Publishing Limited, 2005) and Viviant Denon's No Tomorrow (Translated from the French Point de Lendemain by Lydia Davis with an introduction by Peter Brooks, New York Review Books, 2009):
Does the name “Denon” ring a bell? Perhaps it would if you are the sort of Louvre visitor who has gazed up at the inscription “Pavillon Denon” on the Louvre’s façade, or who notices, en route to the “Mona Lisa,” to “The Winged Victory of Samothrace,” and to Michelangelo’s Slave sculptures, that you are walking in the museum’s “Denon Wing”. Or maybe you are a connaisseur of erotic literature who knows about the new dual-language edition of “No Tomorrow,” a work attributed to Denon that has recently garnered attention in literary circles. Just who could this chameleon-like Denon fellow be? 
Known as “Napoleon’s Eye,” as well as a lover of the Empress Josephine and eventual director of the Louvre, Denon was a man of many talents. Writer, artist, collector, adventurer, archeologist, tastemaker, and charming courtier, he could metamorphose into whatever role was required of him. 
Readers of Terence Russell’s scholarly, authoritative text will get to know the colorful Denon as an intrepid artist able to sketch rapidly under fire who was selected to accompany the French troops on their Egyptian campaign. In addition to his drawing skills, however, Denon paints with his words keen observations about the land and culture he encounters. Denon’s illustrated record of what he saw in Egypt is here made available to the non-speaker of French, through Russell’s well-chosen quotes and drawings. Russell’s paraphrasing and commentary, although sometimes more dry than Denon’s own words, add a necessary framework to the story. 
It is thanks to Denon that so many Egyptian artifacts made it safely to Paris, where as a result of his efforts, the wonders of Ancient Egypt began to be known and appreciated. Without Denon, today’s Louvre would not be the treasure house that it is. To those interested in art crime, however, there is another facet to Denon’s far-reaching influence and collecting style. 
As an immensely likeable master courtier, Denon was able to put a positive spin on what amounted to Napoleon’s looting of the art of countries where he waged war. Under Bonaparte, the appropriation of art became standard policy. In praising Napoleon for his heroic efforts to “conserve” great art in the face of “the torment of war,” Denon lauds a policy that would later be copied by Hitler, whose wholesale confiscation of art was touted as an effort to “protect” it. 
Now how does the reader put together the Denon who drew for sixteen hours straight through eyelids bleeding from the windblown sand, with the author of the 30-page erotic classic, “No Tomorrow,” which according to one reader, should be next to “titillating” in the dictionary? Although Denon was known to have talent for pornographic art, it may be quite a leap from that to authoring what Good Reads calls “one of the masterpieces of eighteenth-century literature, a book to set beside Laclos’ ‘Les Liasons Dangereuses.’”
Diane Joy Charney teaches French Literature at Yale University, where she is also Tutor-in-Writing and the Mellon Forum Fellow of Timothy Dwight College.

You may read the entire review by purchasing a subscription to The Journal of Art Crime.

March 20, 2011

Sunday, March 20, 2011 - , No comments

Art Theft History: Judge Arthur Tompkins Writes about Veronese's "The Wedding at Cana"

by Judge Arthur Tompkins

The recent reference in the ARCA Blog to the oft-overlooked Wedding at Cana, hanging opposite the Mona Lisa in the Louvre, triggered the recollection that this monumental painting, the largest hanging in the Louvre, is also the largest plundered painting on public display, either in the Louvre, or, probably, anywhere.


Veronese, The Wedding at Cana
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/File:Paolo_Veronese,_The_Wedding_at_Cana.JPG

Originally painted, over about 15 months beginning in 1562, by the late-Renaissance Italian mannerist Paolo Veronese, it was completed in 1563 when the artist was aged 35. It was specifically painted for, and hung in, the refectory of the Benedictine Monastery of San Giorgio Maggiore, on a small island off the entrance to Venice’s Grand Canal. It was so famous, in its original location, that at the beginning of the 18th century, the monks of the Monastery began restricting entry to visitors who wished to see it . There it hung for 235 years.


The Refectory, Monastery of San Giorgio Maggiore
http://www.factum-arte.com/eng/conservacion/cana/Default.asp

In the early summer of 1797 Napoleon, fresh from the looting (by forced treaty) of Modena, Parma, Milan and the “incomparable treasure house” of Rome, turned his attention to Venice. He did not stage a frontal attack, but rather engineered the rebellion of a number of the city-state’s vassal states and then, following a year of negotiations, on Friday 12 May 1797, the Venetian Grand Council voted itself into extinction. Thus ended an unbroken 1070 years of proud independence.

Four days later the Treaty of Milan was signed, which allowed the French to remove Venice’s artistic treasures. The Treaty of Campo Formio in October 1797 ultimately divided Venice and its territories between France and Austria. But the Austrians were slow to arrive to take control of their prize, and did not arrive until January 1798. In the intervening period, the French plundered the city, including the Four Horses of San Marco (returned in 1815 after a short spell adorning the Tuileries), and the Veronese.

The painting is vast. It measures 33’6” across, and is 22’ high. In its elaborate frame, it weighs over 1 ½ tons. It was cut into pieces to allow for transportation to Paris, and there reassembled. The Louvre website simply states that the painting “Entered the Louvre in 1798”, and gives no further clue as to the manner of its arrival.

Although the Venetians claimed the painting after the Congress of Vienna in 1815, in the end the French were able to send a substitute - Charles Le Brun’s “Feast in the House of Simon” – back to Venice in its place.

Its long sojourn in Paris has not been without incident. Napoleon married Marie-Louise of Austria in the Louvre’s refurbished Great Gallery in 1810. About 6,000 guests were expected to attend the wedding, and one commentator described the preparations:
“ … there was a tremendous scurry to rearrange pictures and furniture in order to accommodate the 6000 people expected. The size of the Marriage at Cana was an embarrassment. ‘Since it cannot be moved – burn it’, was Napoleon’s soldierly decision – one which, fortunately, [Baron Dominique Vivant] Denon ignored.”
During the Franco-Prussian War in 1870-1871, it was stored in a box in Brest, and during World War II it was rolled and trucked around France to avoid capture by the Nazis. Then at the end of a controversial three-year cleaning in begun in the late 1980s, it was, in the space of a few days, sprayed by water from a leak during a rainstorm, and then dropped. The canvas was ripped in five places, including one tear four feet long.

In late summer 2007, after a meticulous process conducted under strenuous conditions over about 18 months , a full size digitally copied replica was reinstalled back into the refectory at San Giorgio Maggiore – salving but not healing the wound left by Napoleon 210 years before.

So, Veronese’s masterpiece hangs still across from La Joconde – bruised, battered, dismembered, stolen, drenched, torn, displaced, far from home, and, as 9 million visitors a year jostle for a view of the painting across the floor, often overlooked.

It deserves better.

Judge Arthur Tompkins of New Zealand is a graduate of Cambridge University and teaches "Art and War"at ARCA's program in Amelia.

March 19, 2011

Saturday, March 19, 2011 - ,, No comments

Paris Diary: Replica of Stolen Art at Arc de Triomphe du Carrousel

by Catherine Schofield Sezgin

Paris - The statue above the Arc de Triomphe du Carrousel in front of the Louvre is a replica of the original "The Triamphal Quadriga" more commonly known as "Horses of Saint Mark". The original bronzes, analyzed to be more likely copper supporting the theory that they are more Roman than Greek, sat on top of a column in the Hippodrome in Constantinople until the Venetians took a detour during the Fourth Crusade in the 13th century to loot the Christian city of its wealth, including slicing off the horses' heads to ship back to San Marcos Square in Venice. Napoleon stole them in the early 19th century before they were returned to Venice. The horses outside of St. Mark's Basilica are also a copy; the originals reside inside the cathedral.