Real-life tale of the theft, dramatic recovery of 'The Scream'
By Richard Di Dio
The Rescue Artist
A True Story of Art, Thieves, and the Hunt for a Missing
Masterpiece
By Edward Dolnick
HarperCollins. 288 pp. $25.95
A screaming came across the sky ...
Wait - check that. Unlike Pynchon's V2 rocket, The Scream
was wrenched rudely from the museum wall, unceremoniously lifted
through a second-story window, and allowed to clatter down an
aluminum ladder into the frigid stillness of a Norwegian night.
Coming on the eve of the 1994 Winter Olympics in Oslo, the
theft of Edvard Munch's iconic painting from the Norwegian Gallery
was audacious in its intent and simple in its execution. Playing
out in grainy slapstick, a videotape showed two thieves wedging
the painting into the back seat of a small car, and then speeding
off. They even had time to leave a note mocking the out-to-Munch
museum security and Norwegian police.
Edward Dolnick's The Rescue Artist is a fascinating
real-life tale of the theft and dramatic recovery of The
Scream. It is also an informative primer on the world of
outrageously expensive artwork and the eccentric collectors,
colorful thieves, museum apparatchiks, and dogged investigators
who inhabit it.
Dolnick's story is based on the exploits of Charley Hill, a
detective with Scotland Yard's Art Squad. Rescue artist Hill
is an unlikely amalgam of art expert, actor, and tough-guy cop.
He is a "combination of Prince Valiant and Phillip Marlowe"
who can spot the tiniest flaw in a counterfeit Magritte yet
speaks in pulp-fiction-ese: "Thieves who steal works of art
were usually stealing hubcaps a few years earlier." (Hill's
character conjured for me, a Philadelphian, an unsettling image
of former police chief John Timoney attending a wine and cheese
affair before heading out on a motorcycle patrol to round up
the usual suspects.)
With the Art Squad called in to assist in the case, Hill leads
the recovery efforts for The Scream by taking on the
dangerous undercover role of an art buyer willing to negotiate
with the thieves. Dolnick's description of the planning and
execution of Hill's dangerous plan is reminiscent of a le Carré
novel, marrying minute detail and harrowing suspense. Hill is
understandably meticulous in his preparation, immersing himself
in the art and troubled life of Edvard Munch.
It is not enough for him to be an unscrupulous art connoisseur
- he must be totally convincing in his passion for the patron
saint of Nordic angst. He also must have the technical expertise
to determine instantly whether the work is real or counterfeit
when he later encounters the thieves and their prize.
Hill's self-told tales of derring-do are almost too movie-like
to be totally true. As a welcome balance, Dolnick frequently
breaks from the unfolding Oslo drama to provide an informative
analysis of art theft that is equal parts history, economics,
and psychology.
Stolen art is sometimes returned for ransom, although almost
never at the value assigned by art experts. Fencing The Scream,
valued at $72 million, would have been incredibly difficult
because of its one-of-a-kind nature, as well as the global awareness
of the theft. (There is also little validity to the Hollywood
notion that eccentric billionaires are willing to buy stolen
objects to keep in their private collections, unseen by anyone
else.) Instead, art pieces are often used as black market barter
for other illicit items - drugs, for example. Interestingly,
the motivation for art theft is not necessarily greed - sometimes
the art is stolen just for the thrill of the theft, or to "make
a statement" to the authorities or other criminals. And sometimes,
the thief simply has to have a Degas on the wall of his underworld
lair.
Dolnick is the former chief science writer for the Boston Globe.
In The Rescue Artist, he paints a rich background of
the high-stakes world of art theft in the guise of a true thriller.
Richard Di Dio
teaches physics and mathematics at La Salle University.
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