Preamble
For your convenience I have listed below another post on the Louvre.
The Louvre
A Mystery Modifier in the Louvre [1]
Modern museums are high security areas, thanks to the imagination shown by technicians behind the scenes. They have to prevent art thieves and/or art lovers from taking works of art, lunatics from defacing them, and the criminal fraternity in general from helping itself to the stock of an establishment, such as the Louvre.
Mona Lisa smeared with cake in a climate change protest.
On 21 August 1911, the Mona Lisa was stolen from the Louvre in Paris.
Before all the modern aids were introduced, documentary evidence showed that there existed a modifier whose name is now forgotton and of whom there remains no longer a trace. The modifier in question lived in the era before photographic records were made of all the paintings, when artistic and forensic science were in their infancy - in short, when it was possible to do things that protestors or criminals can only dream about in this day and age.
The deserted 'Hieroglyph Gallery' in the Louvre.
Attendant in the Louvre courtyard (ca. 1910).
The realization that something was amiss in the Louvre dawned gradually, for the clever machinations of our anonymous hero ensured that there was no empty space previously occupied by a picture. At first, when experts studied certain still-life paintings, they thought they were hallucinating. Surely the Flemish style had been imitated, leading to similar abundance of the robust fare in French paintings? Suddenly, all the rich and sumptuous food seemed to have vanished. One old master, who had always been overshadowed by de Heem, among others, and whose unusual name was rarely noted - Lubin Baugin - was particularly affected, having apparently embarked on a sudden diet after all the feasting. In one of his paintings there remained little more than a half-full glass, a bottle, and a light snack. It looked like someone had cleared the table.
Once alerted, the curators in charge were constantly coming across other unexplained modifications. This much was known: the paintings were only defaced at night. Secondly, the thief seemed concerned exclusively with food, for one or two items to do with food went missing from the Egyptian collection; as a result, reliefs from the Old Kingdom, and the New Kingdom wall paintings assumed an increasingly tidy appearance. Thirdly, it was obvious that the modifier had style, was probably pedantic, and wanted to change the history of art, by restorng hierogylphics to the Egyptians, and by making a very sharp distinction between the French and their northern neighbors.
Artist and Title: Jan Davidsz de Heem (1606 - 1683/84). Still-life Showpiece (1640).
Material: Oil on canvas.
Size: 149 x 203 cm.
The police initially disclaimed responsibility for this matter, but they were later ordered to take action by higher authority. There followed some very lonely and eerie nights for officials, lit only by moonlight, since they were obliged to keep their flashlights switched off. In the end, however, the modifier gave himself away. He had then pared down all the French still lives, but when, as a true connoisseur, he moved to Jan Davidsz de Heem's 'Still-Life Showpiece' of 1640 (see above) he stumbled against a lute, creating sounds that led to his instant capture. Our suspect confessed what he had done.
Handling works of art has become much more complex today. The prospect of a museum employee examining a picture in such an intimate manner (as above) is now unthinkable.
One of those employees, with what is now termed a service contract, worked all his life for the Louvre and was now being threatened with retirement without receiving a pension - a fate that his parents had long since warned him about. As a true art lover, the idea of art leaving him penniless was unthinkable to him, and so he decided to test whether art might relent. It did: he lived off the pictures for a while, and was at last able to do what no official museum curator would be allowed to do, namely to create some order and impose his own standards in the museum. He turned out to be quite important, because without him, Lubin Baugin would have remained a mere imitator of the flemish style.
The ultimate fate of our modifier is open to to dispute. To the poor policeman who saved de Heem's painting for us in its presnt form, all the works and their creators were nothing more than a passing shadow, and so he too was unable to say what had really happened. The modifier evaded the police, stepped into a landscape painting, and disappeared for ever. It was said by some to be a painting by Watteau, but they were too far away to see. However, if you look at the unkempt, 'Landscape at Sunset' by Adrian Brouwer, you will see that unidentified thief still had unfinished business with the Flemish artist.
Artist and Title: Adrian Brouwer (1605 - 1638). Landscape at Sunset (ca. 1635).
Material: Oil on wood.
Size: 17 x 26 cm.
Reference:
G. Bartz and E. König, The Louvre, Könemann, Tandem Verlag GmbH (2005).
For your convenience I have listed below another post on the Louvre.
The Louvre
A Mystery Modifier in the Louvre [1]
Modern museums are high security areas, thanks to the imagination shown by technicians behind the scenes. They have to prevent art thieves and/or art lovers from taking works of art, lunatics from defacing them, and the criminal fraternity in general from helping itself to the stock of an establishment, such as the Louvre.
Before all the modern aids were introduced, documentary evidence showed that there existed a modifier whose name is now forgotton and of whom there remains no longer a trace. The modifier in question lived in the era before photographic records were made of all the paintings, when artistic and forensic science were in their infancy - in short, when it was possible to do things that protestors or criminals can only dream about in this day and age.
The realization that something was amiss in the Louvre dawned gradually, for the clever machinations of our anonymous hero ensured that there was no empty space previously occupied by a picture. At first, when experts studied certain still-life paintings, they thought they were hallucinating. Surely the Flemish style had been imitated, leading to similar abundance of the robust fare in French paintings? Suddenly, all the rich and sumptuous food seemed to have vanished. One old master, who had always been overshadowed by de Heem, among others, and whose unusual name was rarely noted - Lubin Baugin - was particularly affected, having apparently embarked on a sudden diet after all the feasting. In one of his paintings there remained little more than a half-full glass, a bottle, and a light snack. It looked like someone had cleared the table.
Once alerted, the curators in charge were constantly coming across other unexplained modifications. This much was known: the paintings were only defaced at night. Secondly, the thief seemed concerned exclusively with food, for one or two items to do with food went missing from the Egyptian collection; as a result, reliefs from the Old Kingdom, and the New Kingdom wall paintings assumed an increasingly tidy appearance. Thirdly, it was obvious that the modifier had style, was probably pedantic, and wanted to change the history of art, by restorng hierogylphics to the Egyptians, and by making a very sharp distinction between the French and their northern neighbors.
Material: Oil on canvas.
Size: 149 x 203 cm.
The police initially disclaimed responsibility for this matter, but they were later ordered to take action by higher authority. There followed some very lonely and eerie nights for officials, lit only by moonlight, since they were obliged to keep their flashlights switched off. In the end, however, the modifier gave himself away. He had then pared down all the French still lives, but when, as a true connoisseur, he moved to Jan Davidsz de Heem's 'Still-Life Showpiece' of 1640 (see above) he stumbled against a lute, creating sounds that led to his instant capture. Our suspect confessed what he had done.
One of those employees, with what is now termed a service contract, worked all his life for the Louvre and was now being threatened with retirement without receiving a pension - a fate that his parents had long since warned him about. As a true art lover, the idea of art leaving him penniless was unthinkable to him, and so he decided to test whether art might relent. It did: he lived off the pictures for a while, and was at last able to do what no official museum curator would be allowed to do, namely to create some order and impose his own standards in the museum. He turned out to be quite important, because without him, Lubin Baugin would have remained a mere imitator of the flemish style.
The ultimate fate of our modifier is open to to dispute. To the poor policeman who saved de Heem's painting for us in its presnt form, all the works and their creators were nothing more than a passing shadow, and so he too was unable to say what had really happened. The modifier evaded the police, stepped into a landscape painting, and disappeared for ever. It was said by some to be a painting by Watteau, but they were too far away to see. However, if you look at the unkempt, 'Landscape at Sunset' by Adrian Brouwer, you will see that unidentified thief still had unfinished business with the Flemish artist.
Material: Oil on wood.
Size: 17 x 26 cm.
Reference:
G. Bartz and E. König, The Louvre, Könemann, Tandem Verlag GmbH (2005).
