Street of Dishonor
The repatriation of stolen art is never a sidebar issue. It raises critical issues about what the world community will tolerate, along with the workings of atonement long after the fact.
The latest notable case involves a canvas by Pissaro, born into a Jewish family on the island of St. Thomas in what is now the U.S. Virgin Islands. He is commonly regarded as a luminary figure, inspiring and influential for an entire generation.
The canvas in question is Rue Saint-Honoré in the Afternoon, Effect of Rain, a beautiful study of a street in Paris which matches the crisp geometry of the built environment with the misty atmospherics of a shower in the city. It exemplifies many of the great passions of the Impressionists, especially when it comes to the look of the urban world. How do we take in what we see in the street? How do we create art from the commonplace sights of daily life? It’s worth a fortune for all of the obvious reasons.
That must have been on the mind of its first owners, the Cassirer Neubauer family, which was victimized in a forced sale in 1939. The nazis declared that the Jewish owners were free to leave Europe, but they had to hand over the painting to the regime. What I’ve read about this incident signals the importance of Pissaro’s painting, but the Cassirer Neubauer family was no doubt required to forfeit much more.
From there, Rue Saint Honore went on a journey of its own, eventually acquired by the Thyssen-Bornemisza family, one of Europe’s “great” collectors, who sold it to a non-profit foundation in Spain. Did both the Thyssen-Bornemiszas and the foundation know the painting’s provenance and the ugly fact that it was a stolen work? It is hard to believe that they were unaware.
All this time, the Cassirers kept their eyes on the prize. When the Pissaro was eventually discovered hiding in public, the family sued for restitution. The problem is that it had been in the possession of the foundation for the statutory tenure of six consecutive years. At that point, it was freed from the obligation of return. The case was just decided and the painting will remain in Spain, a plain emblem of injustice and coarse materialism.
After so many similar cases of unfairness, I should probably be accustomed to the facts: the arc of history does not always bend toward justice. In this case, the mechanics of Spanish law are at odds with the clear moral necessity of this situation. A stolen painting remains stolen, until it is returned to its rightful owners.
Meanwhile Rue Saint-Honore will hang in the Thyssen-Bornemisza National Museum, built by Spain to house the Thyssen collection. This probably means eternal possession by means of a wretched administrative technicality. But write Evelio Acevedo, museum director, at educathyssen@museothyssen.org. Perhaps caring people all over the world can help right a great historical wrong.