When I made the decision to become a professional art thief, I had no idea how difficult it was going to be. It was like deciding to be an astronaut or a brain surgeon: you don’t really know what it takes until you start looking into it.
I was young and naïve then, and I had dreams of grandeur: I’d steal a famous painting and ransom it back to the museum in exchange for a small fortune. But when I started doing the research, I realized that stealing famous paintings wasn’t as easy as it sounds. Someone had already tried that, and he’d been caught—the painting was found hanging in his apartment.
It would take a lot more research and planning to pull that off successfully. And even then, there were no guarantees. The reward would have to be worth the risk; otherwise, why bother?
At first, my plan was to steal one of the more famous paintings from one of the larger museums. But after months of observation, I decided against it. There were too many cameras, too many guards with guns, and too many other variables out of my control. It seemed too risky for the potential reward.
Then a friend of mine suggested a Renoir painting called The Umbrellas . It was hanging on
How do you go about stealing a work of art? For many people, it takes years of practice and a fair amount of education to even begin to appreciate the skill that goes into a painting by Renoir or Picasso. But if you’re studying in London, or living in New York, or just visiting, how do you actually steal a priceless work of art?
The answer is: with lots of planning, practice and some luck. The first step is figuring out what to steal. Some pieces are too famous, which means they’re too well-guarded. Others are too big to move through the small doorways in most museums. Finally, if the target is too famous (like the “Mona Lisa”), it’s likely to be insured for more than its fair market value.
The middle-aged man sitting on a bench outside the Centre Pompidou probably thought he was just enjoying the sun on a pleasant spring day as he looked at his map. But he was actually checking out the paintings inside and getting familiar with their placement so he would know where to find them later that night . He was also looking for security cameras—there weren’t any—and figuring out how many guards were patrolling the area. Later that night, he slipped into an
As an art collector and art thief, I know that this is a rather heavy-handed way of acquiring paintings, but it does have its advantages. The most obvious is that nobody ever thinks of looking for stolen art in the thief’s own apartment. I also like to think that my piecemeal approach to building a collection ensures that no one will be able to accuse me of trying to corner the market on any one artist or school. Finally, it allows me to indulge my increasingly refined sense of taste.
“You see, I’ve always believed that if you are going to steal something, you should steal the best. That way, when you’re caught, you can bargain with the prosecutor by saying, ‘Look here, your honor—I admit it. I stole the painting. But if you give it back to me, I will leave it right here in your office.’ If you don’t make such a tempting offer, they might be less willing to let you go.”
“Or they might want more than just the painting,” he said.
“That’s true,” I conceded. “But look at it this way: If what they’re offering me is life without parole as opposed to death by lethal injection, do you think they really care
The daring thieves were dressed as police officers and were so convincing that even the museum’s security guards didn’t realize that anything was amiss.
Catherine de Zegher, the chief curator of the museum, said that while they had been able to recover 40 objects from the heist — 18 are still missing — none of them were as important as the Renoir.
“Of course you can’t put a price on it,” she said. “There’s no market for stolen art.”
But in fact there is a market for stolen art, experts and law enforcement officials say, one that is booming in the United States and is increasingly dominated by Russian mobsters and Eastern European gangs who are drawn to the allure of artwork, antiques, rugs, jewelry and other collectibles.
Tapping into this lucrative but shadowy marketplace has become so appealing to criminals that more than two dozen federal, state and local law enforcement agencies have formed an association to share information about stolen art
The theft of a $2 million artwork might seem like a victimless crime, but it is not. The owners of valuable artworks, often collectors with deep pockets who spend their money quietly to avoid attention, are left vulnerable by works that are snatched out of museums or galleries or
The first thing you need to know about artwork theft is that it’s not really about the money. Sure, the FBI says that stolen art and antiques are the country’s fourth largest black-market sector, behind only drugs, weapons, and money. And sure, a couple of years ago some guy got caught painting over $1 million worth of art in his basement. But what motivated him was not greed but revenge: he had recently sold a painting for $400 and wanted to give his ex-wife a taste of her own medicine. The FBI spent three years trying to get him to stop.
Translation: In order to steal or deface art, one must have already been a fan of the artist’s work. This means that stealing or defacing is an act of vandalism. Vandalism is usually an act of rebellion against authority or those who represent authority (parents while they are alive, or government after they die.)
So the second thing you need to know about artwork theft is that it’s often done by people who don’t have much authority in their lives: drug addicts, anarchists (who are just people without authority), kids, etc.
Translation: Artwork theft isn’t as much about the actual art as it is about getting back at someone
In the old days, if you wanted to steal a famous painting, you had to go to the museum where it was hanging. Now there is a much easier way: just buy a cheap reproduction. The paper or canvas won’t be worth much, but the artwork will already be on it.
Toledo Museum of Art curator Valerie Cassel Oliver says that since 2001 she’s been noticing a lot of mass-produced reproductions of famous paintings showing up at thrift stores and antique malls. At first she thought it was just collectors unloading their basements; now she thinks it’s more likely thieves trying to unload stolen art.
“Because we live in a society where there is so much reproduction,” she says, “it’s really hard to tell what is real.”
She sees her role as preserving the value of these pieces. “We want people to enjoy our collection,” she says, “but when they see something here in Toledo that was stolen from another museum, it’s defeating.”
Art theft is the world’s second-largest criminal enterprise, after drug trafficking. A lot of people think that since art is so valuable and so easy to steal, it must be easy to sell as well. But that’s not true. Art theft is actually a very difficult crime. For one thing, there are a lot of eyes on the lookout for suspicious behavior in museums and galleries.
Trying to peddle stolen artwork is like trying to sell drugs: you can’t just put an ad on Craigslist. You need a middleman who knows how to get rid of the stuff. That narrows your market considerably; your average street corner drug dealer doesn’t know anything about the art market, and probably couldn’t care less, because he doesn’t have any money or connections that could help him move stolen art.
The problem with stealing art is finding someone who will buy it — or, more likely, someone you can trick into buying it for you — without asking too many questions, at a price high enough that you can make your money back and then some.
You could try going through an auction house: they’re used to handling high-value items without knowing exactly where they came from and don’t ask too many questions as long as you can pay them enough
