An interview with art-book author Simon Houpt

Simon Houpt, author of the dishy new book Museum of the Missing: A History of Art Theft, was kind enough to answer a few questions for Intrepid readers about the Dark Side of the art market. His book is one of the best art reads I've seen this year and would make a great holiday gift for the art lover (or true-crime enthusiast) on your list.

LH: How did you get interested in the seamy underside of art world theft?

SH: In the late 1980s, I visited Boston and spent a few hours in the Isabella Stewart Gardner Museum. I remember being enchanted by Gardner’s nutty desire to build an Italian palazzo on the Fenway, and how improbably she’d pulled off a unified vision of her home and its extraordinary collection. I love those Sargents, Titian’s Europa, and the Tapestry Room. But then I returned for a visit only a year or two after the 1990 heist, and couldn’t stop staring at the place where Vermeer’s Concert should be….In August, 2004, I think we were all shocked by the thefts from the Munch Museum. I couldn’t wrap my head around why somebody might take the Madonna and, especially, The Scream: I knew enough from having followed art thefts through the years to realize they’d never be sold on to a collector. It was just so vexing. A few months later, a publisher approached me and asked if I might be interested in exploring the subject a little further.

LH: What (besides ransom) drives someone to steal an instantly recognizable -- and thus unsellable -- painting?

SH: I’d say stupidity or a lack of familiarity with the art market and collectors. But maybe I’m biased. The fact is, many thefts are misguided attempts at cashing in on the ever-increasing values of art. In the case of the Goya that went missing in early November and was recovered a couple of weeks later, it looks as if some thieves happened upon the transport van and figured they could make a quick buck. But as one of my law enforcement sources for the book told me, the real art in art theft isn’t stealing the art, it’s selling it on. Speak to any collector, and they’ll all tell you (honestly, I believe) that they’d never buy hot art because they wouldn’t be able to show it to anyone. That takes away one of the primary joys of ownership. One of the ways we define ourselves is by the things we accumulate. Art that we possess becomes a part of our character. That’s short-circuited if we can’t share the art with others.

Still, some thieves are able to move the stuff on because of a growing market for (primarily) paintings in an underworld, where criminals might be looking for easy collateral in a drug or arms deal. And, frankly, it appears likely that at least some terrorist activity is being funded by the vibrant trade in antiquities coming out of Iraq, Afghanistan, and other trouble spots.

LH: Your book comes at a good time, because of the highly publicized recovery of the Munch paintings. When did you know that their recovery was likely -- while writing, or only after the book was already in press?

SH: I wish I had a source inside the Norwegian police, but I, like most people, had to read about their recovery in the paper. (Which occurred shortly after the book came off the presses.) Before they were rescued, there was a lot of talk among the people I canvassed in the course of my research about where the pieces might or might not be held. But we still don’t know all the details of the case, and we probably won’t for a few years. If the guys doing time for the crime are released in a few years, we’ll know they cut a deal with the Norwegian police for lesser sentences. And then someone’s going to talk.

LH: If you were running the world's top museums, what changes would you make to keep art safer from theft?

SH: I’m really sympathetic toward museum administrators, because as I write in the book they have the unenviable task of reconciling two competing aims: making art as accessible as possible while also ensuring its safety. Most major museums are actually pretty secure nowadays, though of course every so often a guard does look the wrong way and a piece goes missing (as with the Corot that was nabbed from the Louvre in 1998, and is still missing). There’s nothing much more to be done on that end of things – if a gang of thugs wants to burst in with automatic weapons and grab some pieces and make a run for it, I wouldn’t suggest fighting fire with fire: museum guards should not be armed. Most art taken nowadays comes from private collections and small art galleries that can’t afford proper security. Security cameras would be a good place to start – most galleries lack them. And there are other, more serious, leaks in the system: I’m totally at a loss, for example, to explain why punishment is so light for art theft in most European countries. In the U.S. and Canada, it’s a major felony that can get you seven to 10 years.

LH: If you could steal any work of art and get away with it, what would you steal?

SH: That’s easy: I’d snatch Vermeer’s The Concert from whoever’s holding it. I’d give it back to the Gardner, of course. But I think I’d first live with it for a week or two.