[Alyssa]
Smithsonian has an amusing list of the ten most outrageous art thefts of the last century. I didn't know, for example, that the guy who stole the Mona Lisa in 1911 was offended by the idea that an Italian masterpiece was in a French museum, or that the Irish Republican Army ripped off 19 paintings from Russborough House in 1974. It's hard to imagine, in today's transnational and uber-pricey art market that there are many art theives inspired more by intense national pride than the money involved (although this particular crook got caught when he tried to sell Mona Lisa for some serious-in-1911 coin). And stealing art seems like a pretty impractical way to finance your armed resistance movement. In fact, theft is probably best left to bored, art-loving fictional playboys, period.
But whatever the reason, big heists are always fun to think about after the fact. There's the object of the theft to consider: how do you decide your target is going to be a massive museum coin collection of mixed value? There are the logistics: if one is going to steal the Gutenberg Bible, one might factor the fact that it weighs 70 pounds into the planning process. Finally, it's giddy and transgressive to think about. Art theft isn't a victimless crime, but it's less directly and immediately harmful than robbing a little old lady or committing murder or defrauding a pension fund. Prints are cool, but it's fun to imagine having the real thing tucked away to look at.


I remember reading somewhere that the theft of the Mona Lisa was sponsored by somebody who was in possession of three excellent copies. When he had unloaded them on three unscrupulous-but-gullible millionaires, the original went back to the Louvre.
Very likely this is an urban legend, but I'm not sure I could stand to see it debunked.
Posted by roac | May 28, 2008 3:48 PM