This is the story of the Gelman Santander Collection, and it touches every pressure point in art law today: estate wishes, cultural heritage mandates, provenance, and what happens when the people entrusted to protect a collection quietly become its de facto owners.

The Gelmans and the Golden Age

To understand why this collection matters, you have to understand the world it came from.

From the late 1930s to the late 1950s, while America and Europe were consumed by World War II (and therefore producing fewer films), Mexico developed something extraordinary. This was the Golden Age of Mexican Cinema, a period of rich storytelling and cultural self-portraiture that elevated Mexico’s place in the art world. That era sprung global awareness of Mexico’s culture, and the world came to recognize the traditions of Mexican food, clothing, and craft, but most especially, its cinema, photography, and painting.

Jacques and Natasha Gelman were at the center of that world. He was born in Russia, she in Czechoslovakia. They both immigrated to Mexico, then married in 1941. They became wealthy in the film industry, as Jacques produced some of the most iconic films of the Golden Age. They invested that wealth in art and amassed a significant collection of works by Mexican artists, including Frida Kahlo, Diego Rivera, María Izquierdo, Rufino Tamayo, José Clemente Orozco, and David Alfaro Siqueiros, as well as a considerable selection of Mexican photography. They also collected European art, which they displayed in their New York apartment. But in Mexico, they kept their Mexican collection private.

When Jacques died in 1986, Natasha continued adding to the collection. She brought in American art advisor and curator Robert Littman, whom she appointed executor of her estate. Upon Natasha’s passing in 1998, Littman created the Vergel Foundation to expand and manage the collection.

The Wishes of the Estate — And What Happened to Them

It was understood, and widely reported, that the Gelmans wanted their Mexican art displayed collectively, together, in a museum in Mexico, open to the public. When the New York Times reviewed Natasha Gelman’s will, however, the instructions were less clear than that legacy suggests. There were apparently provisions for what should happen should the works leave the country. That ambiguity has become the crack through which the collection has been slowly disappearing.

What is not ambiguous: Frida Kahlo’s works were declared a national monument in Mexico in 1984. That means they can be sold, but they must remain in Mexico.

What is less clear is whether Littman was authorized to make the moves he did, whether he owns or can claim ownership of the works, and what his stake in any transaction has been. It’s also not clear how the Zambrano family entered the picture, but apparently Littman sold them the collection. By 2023, the 160-work collection, currently housed at the Museum of Modern Art in Mexico City, had been transferred to the Zambranos. And the Zambranos have since brought in Banco Santander to manage and care for it.

That is how, in 2026, the Gelman collection (now the Gelman Santander Collection) is preparing to leave Mexico City for Spain, where it will be displayed at Faro Santander, the bank’s landmark new cultural venue.

Banks and Art: A Note on How This Works

It’s worth pausing here for a moment, because the involvement of a bank in managing a cultural collection often raises eyebrows, and it should be understood clearly.

Banks and major financial institutions do manage art collections. They offer high-level services that collectors and estates genuinely need: storage, insurance, transportation, conservation, arranged sales, and advisory services. Just because a financial institution has an art advisory arm does not necessarily mean it has a stake in the art beyond its function as an asset. Like any other asset, art requires lending, financial planning, estate and trust management, and other services. Partnerships can evolve to the point where it looks like a bank actually owns the art — and that’s what is playing out here with Santander.

Fundación Banco Santander, per their own statement, will be “responsible for the conservation, research and exhibition” of the collection. A first selection of works will be shown at Faro Santander when the new cultural venue opens this coming June. The collection will also, per the statement, be exhibited in “major museums around the world.”

That is a significant shift in mission from a private collection held in Mexico City.

The Legal Terrain

There are a lot of holes here, and they compound each other.

The Hague Convention for the Protection of Cultural Property was ratified in 1954 to protect cultural property in times of armed conflict. From there, multiple multinational organizations and nearly all governments have drafted their own cultural protection laws and agreements. Under that framework, and under UNESCO cultural heritage agreements, we have to consider three things: ethical acquisition, illicit trafficking, and the protection of cultural property.

The acquisition is questionable. Illicit trafficking is less clear; this is an open transfer, not a covert one. But the protection of cultural property is the priority.

Since 2018, Mexico has been mounting a serious campaign to recover and protect its cultural heritage, particularly artifacts illegally removed from the country. In the five-year period between 2018 and 2023, under the hashtag #MiPatrimonioNoSeVende (My Heritage Is Not for Sale) Mexico recovered over 9,000 pieces of cultural property. The Ministry of Culture has been in ongoing discussions with auction houses in New York and Paris over the appropriate handling of works important to Mexican heritage, continually referencing UNESCO agreements and bilateral cultural treaties.

Why does this matter so urgently? Because art and other movable cultural property can easily cross borders, and are historically linked to smuggling, ransom, extortion, looting, and organized crime. These are the tools money launderers and traffickers use. It is a significant global concern, governed by dozens of international laws, state laws, and financial regulations.

Banco Santander says all the right agreements are in place, that Mexico’s Ministry of Culture and INBAL (the National Institute of Fine Arts and Literature) have been involved in the arrangement, and that the works will return to Mexico by 2028. The bank has described this agreement as “a strong expression of trust between Mexico and Spain.”

Mexico’s President Sheinbaum has stated publicly that the desire is for the collection to remain in Mexico, and that the situation is being monitored. In other outlets, she says that the transfer complies with Mexican law. Reports differ on how much support or skepticism the administration is lending to the arrangement.

So: the legal boxes may be checked. But checked by whom, and in whose interest?

The Sticky Question

There is a genuine tension at the heart of all of this, and it is worth naming.

For decades, the Gelman collection was private. The Mexican people, whose artists, whose cultural heritage, whose era of Golden Cinema produced these works, could not see them. Now, under Santander’s management, the global public will finally be able to see the collection. That is not nothing.

But the public seeing it in Spain, and in “major museums around the world,” is not the same as the Mexican public seeing it in Mexico, which is what the Gelmans reportedly intended, and what 400 artists have signed a petition at e-flux pleading for.

The questions that need to follow this collection are these: Will it actually return to Mexico in 2028? And to where? And for how long? Who are the controlling parties? What will happen to the collection long-term? It has already been expanded, shrunk, kept private, held in public view, partially divested, and rebranded. When a collection of this magnitude – in size, value, cultural significance, and historical importance – is unraveling its own provenance before our eyes, the art world has every reason to worry.

This is not the only collection being handled in ways that diverge from its owners’ wishes, or that tests the limits of cultural heritage law. But it is one of the most visible. And the 400 artists who signed that petition have done the most important thing they could: they’ve made the world pay attention.

The Gelman Santander Collection includes works by Diego Rivera, Frida Kahlo, María Izquierdo, Rufino Tamayo, José Clemente Orozco, and David Alfaro Siqueiros, among others. The collection is currently housed at the Museum of Modern Art in Mexico City and is slated to travel to Faro Santander in Spain beginning June 2026, with an agreement to return to Mexico by 2028.

For a touch more flair, I loved these accounts of the issue by @carriescottcurates and @magideye – both are worth a view.

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Two and a half years ago, I wrote about the overcrowding of cultural spaces. And the conversation keeps coming up.

Carrie Scott of SEEN posted recently about the disappointment of visiting an overcrowded museum. (It’s a brilliant commentary—watch it here). Then the Telegraph posted nearly the same thing, calling it a “sin against art.” Then Artnet wrote about it. Time Out picked it up. And it went viral: Travel and Leisure Asia, Apollo Magazine, The Guardian…

It’s a problem. And it’s true of most major museums: The Uffizi Gallery, The Met, the Louvre. Cultural spaces, like the enchanted old European towns (Florence), cultural events (Pride celebrations), and architectural wonders (the viewing platform of any high-rise), are all teeming with people. Our current institutions aren’t managing crowds properly, so we’re losing impact, enthusiasm, and audience.

The thing is, we WANT people to visit cultural institutions to enjoy and learn about important events in human history. We WANT people to see the art. We WANT to support the arts. We WANT to share and preserve our history. As a business case study, the cultural product is failing, and managers lack solutions or action. They’re leaving audiences out, and that is a business problem and a cultural problem.

This week I’m resharing my post about this issue. I have suggestions.

The info is still relevant. I’d love to know your thoughts.

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Art Galleries are fascinating spaces. These small storefronts are usually stark white and usually overlit. A welcome desk (poorly named) might have a sign-in log or a tear sheet for the art, but it definitely has a couple of gallery assistants who will ignore you. The psychological dynamics are something to behold.

Some of the smaller or entrepreneurial galleries might have someone who will actually greet you, especially during an opening, and tell you a little about the artist whose works are on display. Larger galleries display works by several artists and likely have private viewing rooms for serious collectors. One thing you won’t find easily is a price tag. Prices are available upon request or can possibly (POSSIBLY) be found on a sheet at the desk. Each gallery visit is like a little adventure. Will someone greet me? Will there be any information about the art or the artist? Do I have any context here at all? Mysteries. You just have to go into a lot of galleries and see what happens. It’s a fun game.

Galleries, like any single-product enterprise, are a tough business. Overhead is enormous. Events and art fairs are expensive and logistically complex, and many galleries feel obligated to participate in these events. Client relations are the obvious song and dance. But artists–ah, the forgotten artists–often seem to be treated as little more than production machines.

The first time that I heard that the artist only makes 50% on average (if they’re lucky) of the sale of a work, I was shocked. Then I did a classroom business exercise to calculate the costs of running a gallery, and it made more sense. Prime locations in major cities mean high rent. Mandatory art fair participation can mean booth fees as high as $100,000 per fair. Add insurance, security, staff labor, and client entertainment, and you have all the makings of a doomed-to-fail business.

As a classroom exercise, we each had to calculate how many paintings and at what price a gallery would have to sell just to break even. It took a lot of recalculating to sell that art and keep our imaginary gallery afloat. We had to get creative. Some people added ancillary services like design and curation services. Some people added an education space or coffee shop. I subsidized my imaginary gallery from the Fortune 50 company next door. The point is simple: running a gallery costs a lot of money, so of course they take 40-70% commission from the artist.

Consignment Is Not Ownership (Even When it Looks Like it Is)

Let’s talk about the artist. Making art and selling art are two very different things. Very few artists have gallery representation. But some artists are able to sell work at galleries on consignment. When this happens, the artist delivers the piece to the gallery, it’s displayed–sometimes for years–and hopefully sells. The artist is paid sometime after the sale.

Importantly, the gallery does not own the artwork. The gallery exhibits, markets, promotes, and facilitates the sale. Ownership stays with the artist until the work is sold. This is where contracts matter. A good contract covers insurance, transportation, commission, exhibition terms, and risk allocation. Both sides assume some risk, but the baseline assumption is clear: the work remains the artist’s property.

Or so the story goes.

Problems arise when issues aren’t covered in the contract, when someone else negotiates on the artist’s behalf without full transparency, or, worst of all, when there is no contract at all. When something goes wrong, the gallery often has the upper hand.

That brings us to Eve Plumb—yes, Jan from The Brady Bunch. As an adult, Plumb became a painter working in realism. She consigned several paintings to Wynne Fine Art Gallery in Massachusetts. In 2014, the Wynnes filed for bankruptcy, and the bankruptcy trustee attempted to include 85 consigned paintings as part of the liquidation estate.

But consigned artwork belongs to the artist, not the gallery. Plumb sued.

I came across this case while I was researching art law. I’m currently taking a class called Legislation and Regulation, which is where we dive deep into lawmaking and statutory interpretation. Laws are often unclear, and trial outcomes can come down to the placement of a comma or the interpretation of customs and norms. In Plumb v. Casey (Casey was the bankruptcy trustee for the Wynnes), the Supreme Judicial Court of Massachusetts (the highest appellate court in that state) had to evaluate two seemingly conflicting provisions of state law. And yes, Massachusetts does have laws about art consignment. Here is the section in question, and it’s interesting to note the language. The art laws of Massachusetts here need some statutory interpretation.

The Wynnes argued that the artists failed to comply with General Law 104A § 2b, which requires a Written Statement of Delivery (WSOD):

“A consignor who delivers a work of fine art hereunder shall, upon delivery of the work of fine art, furnish to the consignee a separate written statement of delivery of the work of fine art, which shall include at a minimum the following information: (1) the artist’s name and the name of the owner of the work of fine art; (2) the title, if any, of the work of fine art; (3) the medium and dimensions of the work of fine art; (4) the date of completion of the work of fine art; (5) the date of delivery of the work of fine art; and (6) the anticipated fair market value of the work of fine art.”

Plumb and the other artists had not provided WSODs. The gallery believed this failure allowed the artwork to be used to pay bankruptcy creditors.

The Court disagreed.

It looked instead to General Law 104A § 2a, which defines consignment itself:

“Notwithstanding any custom, practice or usage of the trade to the contrary, or any other language herein, whenever a consignor delivers … a work of fine art to a consignee … for the purpose of exhibition or sale, or both, on a commission, fee or other basis of compensation, the delivery to and acceptance of the work of fine art by the consignee shall constitute a consignment, unless the delivery to the consignee is pursuant to an outright sale … .”

In other words: delivery + acceptance + intent to sell = consignment. The “notwithstanding” clause controls. The Court held that §2b’s “shall” was directive, not a condition precedent to ownership protection. The artwork remained the artists’ property.

Plumb and the other artists got their work back.

Document Everything

The takeaway is not glamorous, but it is foundational. Document everything. Keep records that are clear, complete, and easy to retrieve. Use written contracts, even when the relationship feels friendly or informal. Know the statutory requirements in the state or country where you are doing business, because customs and norms will not protect you when something goes wrong.

For artists, this means understanding that consignment is not just a casual arrangement. It is a legal relationship with real consequences. For galleries, this is a reminder that trust is not a substitute for compliance. Clear documentation protects everyone involved and reduces the likelihood that financial distress turns into legal conflict. Good records are not just good business practice. They are risk management.

Ms. Plumb was fortunate. The statute was on her side, and the court read it in a way that honored the purpose of consignment law. Many artists are not so lucky, especially when records are incomplete or nonexistent.

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The first time I was in Egypt was in a military cargo plane. It was a typical supply run between two allies, and I flew low enough over the terrain to see the pyramids up close. I couldn’t believe it. As a child, I was dazzled by the far away places I saw in National Geographic magazines. Ancient ruins, vibrant cultures, mysterious histories…and suddenly there I was, seeing the pyramids from above.

Years later, I visited Egypt as a tourist, and went looking for another ancient wonder: The Library of Alexandria. Or at least a historical marker or statue of it. Unfortunately, the Library of Alexandria doesn’t exist anymore. The Romans, the Greeks, the Arabs, and travelers and warfighters from multiple realms passed through on their way to worship, learn, trade, reform, plunder, or conquer. The city and library declined slowly over decades in the third century BC due to brain drain, war damage, natural destruction, and fires. Julius Caesar, setting Egyptian warships on fire in the harbor, caused additional burning of the port and part of the city.

Today, Alexandria is a beautiful coastal city, but just offshore is where the real action is happening. A curved beachfront, dissected by a highway, blends inland to a cityscape with grey structures ranging from citadels and remnants of ancient barricades to apartment buildings and modern city architecture. It’s an ancient town known as the center of Macedonian conqueror Alexander the Great’s empire, Cleopatra VII’s reign as the last Queen of Egypt, and rival to the Roman Empire.

The nearby town of Canopus was culturally and religiously significant, and it’s where Cleopatra spent time in the temples of Osiris and Serapis. It is located on the Nile Delta and the Mediterranean Sea on the northern shore of Egypt. After ages of environmental damage, earthquakes, wars, and erosion, Canopus now lies under water, a mystery of the ancient cultural world. Underwater archeologists say forget Atlantis, we have Canopus.

When Cities Sink, Stories Surface

Canopus was a major port for the Greek sea trade over 2000 years ago. Between the Roman Empire and the Egyptian Ptolemaic Dynasty, the Greeks were a major trade and political power. Their influence in philosophy and cultural supremacy was highly evident all over this region. Canopus was a town of spiritual temples to the god Serapis, a Greco-Egyptian deity, and Osiris, the Egyptian god of fertility. The multicultural community was rich from trade, enjoyed a multilingual culture, and honored spiritual practices. It was, however, a geographical area prone to earthquakes, rising tides, liquefaction, and natural disasters. Slowly, the city literally dissolved. Pilgrims and prophets came and went. Warriors, rulers, tradesmen, and technology changed the landscape. Ancient history gave way to modern life.

But some did not forget the architecture and artifacts of the lost city of Canopus. The British, the French, and a slew of international organizations have been searching for antiquities. Canopus has been found. The sunken city is emerging one crane hoist at a time. Statues from the reign of Ramses II laid on the ocean floor outside Alexandria alongside Greek and Roman artifacts, Egyptian sphinxes, and entire building and infrastructure pieces.

Sadly, Canopus had few records because it submerged due to erosion, earthquakes, and flooding, and any papyrus writings would not survive in the wet delta region. The city was nearly forgotten. But stories never die, and rumors of a sunken city persisted. A limestone tablet called the Decree of Canopus was discovered recently near Cairo, and this near-complete tablet discusses Ptolemaic Rule in Egypt in Egyptian hieroglyphics, Demotic, and ancient Greek, much like the Rosetta Stone. Not only does this give us a record from 238 BCE about the rule of law in Canopus, it helps solidify language translation and tells us about the society of a long-lost land.

Fishermen caught glimpses of artifacts and shared sea stories and myths because there were few written records of the once prominent city. Then came physical searches by fishermen and divers. Over the years technology improved. Then sonar. Giant columns were found and explorers began to map the underwater city, which prompted a wave of interest and research. This drew archaeologists from all over the world. Then Remotely Operated Vehicles were used, then drones, with the benefit of additional technology to photograph and map and retrieve artifacts without human invasion. Fortunately, the area is in stable waters and deep enough to help preserve the artifacts.

Statues of kings and gods continue to be discovered. Personal items like jewelry, pottery, and everyday objects are providing insight into daily life. The architecture reveals building techniques and technological capabilities. Coins and marketplace remnants show the wealth and global importance of the city, including the importance of religion, scholarly pursuits, and political issues. Writings in Egyptian hieroglyphics and ancient Greek continue to surface.

Frank Goddio, a French underwater archaeologist, is leading the joint excavation of the sunken city of Canopus. Recovered artifacts include immense monuments such as a quartz sphinx containing the cartouche of Pharaoh Ramesses II and a marble statue of a Roman nobleman. The footprint of a Roman-style city is being mapped out. Ancient Egyptian, Ptolemaic, Roman, Byzantine, and Islamic coins prove travel and trade were robust during the era. The stories of Canopus’ cosmopolitan past mingle with relics of religious significance.

Whose Heritage Lies Beneath?

These ancient remains can tell us more about daily life of the Canopus people, but the societal implications are much bigger than that. As with any archaeological discovery of this magnitude, there are stories to be told. The question is: who gets to tell and interpret those stories? Historians are like journalists, and personal experiences will mix with academic knowledge and motivation. Our cultural understanding is deeply shaped by the owners of the story. Since we have Greek, Roman, Egyptian (not to mention pre-Roman, Christian, Turkish and other regional seafaring cultures) represented here, which stories will we tell?

The area is equitably within Egyptian waters and the heritage belongs to them. Though the Ptolemaic dynasty ruled for about 300 years and the Romans ruled for 600, the underwater artifacts are not contested by the Greeks, Italians, or French. These are part of the heritage of ancient Egypt.

Egypt’s ministry of tourism works with historians and diplomats to showcase the amazing finds that have been accelerating over the past decades as recovery is accelerating. Cultural preservationists try to keep the sites protected as the excavation goes on. We have to not only tell these stories but protect the artifacts as well. International institutions are key in researching and interpreting, not to mention funding, the ongoing excavations.

What Canopus Teaches Us Today

As technology progresses, more discoveries are being made. Museums all over the world are capitalizing on the publicity. The Saint Louis Art Museum (USA) has an audio guide called Sunken Cities: Egypt’s Lost Worlds available on its website. YouTube hosts multiple educational videos about Canopus. Journal papers continue to reveal new information from scholars. Podcasts discuss exciting finds.

The rediscovery of Canopus reminds us that history isn’t static—it’s constantly being rewritten as new evidence emerges from beneath the waves. These aren’t just relics in museums; they’re windows into how multicultural societies functioned, how global trade shaped ancient economies, and how natural disasters can erase entire civilizations. The same questions facing Canopus—who owns the past, how do we preserve it, whose interpretation matters—face us today with contested cultural artifacts worldwide.

Recovery, documentation, and preservation are important because they help us interpret our history. These cultural artifacts explain our shared past and understand how our ancestors prayed, ruled, lived, and fought. I hope some kids are reading about these discoveries, watching the mysteries of the past unfold, and wonder. I hope it gives them the same yearning for discovery that set me on a path to becoming a pilot, serving my country, and now working to preserve culture.

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These are the final days of the Ruth Asawa exhibition at MoMA, and although I had heard of the artist, I did not fully comprehend the magnitude of her importance, both in the art world and as a civic leader. In light of recent episodes in the American cultural landscape, it feels appropriate to examine Ruth Asawa’s work and life through the lens of the social environment.

A couple of weeks ago, I had the pleasure of visiting Ruth Asawa: A Retrospective. I went to see works I had not fully understood or appreciated, even though I once lived in San Francisco and adored the sculptures, public art, and artistic heritage of the Bay Area. And today, on a snowy New York City weekend, I am looking back through my photos of the exhibition and letting it all sink in.

Industrial Snowflakes

I look out my window right now and see snow falling between giant concrete buildings. Then I look at photographs of Ruth’s wire sculptures and realize they are an inversion of what I see outside. She created industrial snowflakes, delicate forms casting shadows onto white walls, while I look out at white snowflakes projecting nothing onto industrial buildings.

The contrast is stark. New York City, even in the midst of a snowstorm, is alive with movement. Ruth’s sculptures are imitations and reflections of things that could be alive. It is only the storytelling power of art that gives breath to the spiritual meaning of our work.

Formed by Rupture

Ruth Asawa was Japanese American, and during World War II, at the tender age of 16, she and her family were forcibly removed from their home and incarcerated, first at Santa Anita Assembly Center in California and later at Rohwer Relocation Center in Arkansas. That rupture shaped everything. Though difficult, Ruth said that her internment gave her the later life she had and loved. She was detained with hundreds of other Japanese-American families and learned art from Disney animators and other working artists. She went on to become an arts educator and civic activist, working mostly with children and community centers.

She was denied entry to colleges she wanted to attend, not because of her ability, but because of who she was and how the country had decided to see her. Eventually, she found her way to Black Mountain College, a place that valued experimentation and process over polish. It is hard not to see the influence of those years in her work, the patience, the repetition, the quiet insistence on form, and the belief that learning and making could happen outside the traditional structures that had excluded her.

She later married Albert Lanier, a white architect, at a time when interracial marriage was still illegal in many states and socially condemned in most others. They built a life together in San Francisco and raised six children, who appear again and again in her drawings, photographs, and cast works. Family was not separate from her practice. It was embedded in it. The domestic, the civic, and the artistic were never siloed in her life. Her commitment to art education and community organizing grew out of the same impulse as her studio work, a belief that creativity belonged in everyday life and that making things together could be a form of care, resistance, and continuity.

The Shadows We Leave Behind

Some of Ruth’s most memorable works are her wire mesh sculptures, shapes within shapes that resemble sea creatures, tree roots, woven baskets, and unfolding curves and lines. You can see through them. They project shadows onto walls like snowflakes, branches, or lanterns. They make me think about the shadows our lives project onto others, and how our work may go underappreciated in our own time but continue to live on in the traces we leave behind.

Ruth also worked across drawing, fabric and textiles, pottery, lithographs, and printmaking. She photographed and documented the people in her community, most notably her family, who were the subjects of many of her drawings and castings. She was an advocate, a teacher, and a civic leader who believed deeply in arts education. Her work flows seamlessly from one medium to another. The images and messages remain consistent, so each section of the exhibition feels less like a new chapter and more like a different phase of the same story.

The Chair as Placeholder

One of my favorite pieces is a black-and-white drawing of a wicker chair. She refuses the expected pattern of weaving and instead explores the negative space of this ordinary object. This feels like a lesson we need in our own lives and in society. We must explore what goes unspoken. There is importance in the blank areas. There is room to create, room to reflect, and a quiet space that makes everything else worthwhile and reveals who we are.

The contrast of black and white is stark. The repeated pattern in the negative space resembles a mosaic floor. It reminds me of cobblestone streets in Europe, tiled courtyards in Tunisia, Moorish churches in Spain, or ripples in water. That chair could exist anywhere: modern-day Southeast Asia, 1940s America, or nineteenth-century England. It reminds me of my childhood and the antiques my parents kept, yet it feels more alive than any of those stories. It sits there offering itself for investigation. Ink on paper. Not much to it. And yet there are a thousand stories waiting to be told.

Drawing is often dismissed as doodling or preparation for a “finished” work. In reality, drawing something simple with clarity and restraint requires patience, imagination, and skill. Using negative space intentionally is considered a mark of mastery. It is extremely difficult to do well. Ruth shows us how space itself can carry meaning.

She encourages us to think about how we exist within our own space. What we do with the blank areas of our lives. The time outside of primary structures. The liminal space at the edges. The opportunities between major events. The air we take up around us. Looking at that tiled negative space, I realized the chair was never the point. The chair is a placeholder. The space is what gives us possibility.

Policy and Consequences

These spiritual lessons were delivered to us through art shaped by laws that harmed humanity and are now recognized as violations of civil liberties. Ruth Asawa’s creativity was forged by policies rooted in fear, racism, and exclusion. Executive Order 9066, forced incarceration, educational discrimination, and anti-miscegenation laws all played a role in shaping her life.

For people who work in law, government, and policy, Ruth Asawa’s story is a reminder of the weight of responsibility carried by those who draft, interpret, and enforce rules. Laws do not exist in the abstract. They shape lives, families, and futures. Even when enacted in the name of national security or social order, policies can cause lasting harm that echoes for generations.

Protecting and securing a country and its communities should never come at the expense of humanity, dignity, or the ability for people to thrive. Ruth’s life stands as evidence that unjust laws can suppress opportunity, but they can also unintentionally give rise to voices that expose their failures. That does not absolve the harm. It demands accountability and care in how power is exercised.

Ruth Asawa’s work asks us to look closely at the spaces we overlook. The negative space in art. The quiet moments in life. The people pushed to the margins. Her legacy is not only one of aesthetic innovation, but of civic engagement, education, and belief in community.

Her sculptures hang lightly, but they carry weight. They remind us that what appears delicate can be enduring, and that what is invisible can shape everything around it. As viewers, as citizens, and as members of our own communities, we are invited to consider what shadows we cast, and what kind of space we leave behind for others to inhabit.

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The Art of Creative Maladjustment

Today we celebrate Martin Luther King Jr. Day. As we honor the life of this civil rights leader, we confront recurring issues that aren’t easy to understand. It’s difficult to process emotions about the volatile political climate we live in, and most people around the world would say their society’s political issues are complex if not maddening. But Dr. King was a nonviolent activist who used a variety of methods to discuss and challenge these social difficulties.

In his 1963 speech “Remaining Awake Through a Great Revolution,” Dr. King outlined what he called “creative maladjustment”—a refusal to accept injustice:

“…that there are some things in our society, some things in our world, to which we should never be adjusted. We must never adjust ourselves to racial discrimination and racial segregation. We must never adjust ourselves to religious bigotry. We must never adjust ourselves to economic conditions that take necessities from the many to give luxuries to the few. We must never adjust ourselves to the madness of militarism, and the self-defeating effects of physical violence.”

This is the work that art therapists take to heart, urging people to answer Dr. King’s call through creation. They encourage people to draw, write, and create in ways that depict the cultural issues that we feel and the society that we want to see. Art can be used to communicate and to heal. I find art very spiritual, and art explains the world to me: perspectives of various people in different places at a particular point in time. Art is a reflection and a prediction. I try to find the lessons in art, even if the lesson is just a moment of self-reflection or aesthetic appreciation. Art is a therapy to me.

There is a transformative power to art. Great writing will make you weep. A song, a ballet, a poem, when performed whole and created with love have a power so strong that they will transport you to another place. A single photograph can tell an entire life’s story. Each time a work of art moves us, we step closer to understanding ourselves and others. The road is long. Keep doing the work.

When Law Reacts (Too Little, Too Late)

Law school hasn’t yet given me the chance to flex my creative muscles (or any muscles, for that matter–it’s a lot of sitting). The cases we read demonstrate small moments in time where the law interceded to change something. Law tries to right the wrongs, but it doesn’t always get it right. It’s not necessarily fair for everyone.

There are misunderstandings, judgment calls, and that awful place of discrimination that we can’t usually identify until after the fact when we spend decades or centuries outraged until we take a step forward towards equality. That in itself outrages some people. The law isn’t very creative, and it’s certainly not proactive. No, the law reacts, often too little, too late. But I’m learning that good lawyers and law makers are the ones with a touch of creativity. They can spin a story to advocate for their client or constituency. They find solutions that, although rarely fixing the problem, help us take a step forward.

Your Part in Bending the Arc

Dr. King reminds us that “the arc of the moral universe is long, but it bends toward justice.” And walking towards justice is probably a neverending journey. It will take creativity. And compassion. And a look back at history. I hope that people study the law, civics, or social issues. Read widely. Get involved in the community, in whatever way feels comfortable to you. For some people that means going to law school later in life (hi, friends!). For some people that means educating, even as we realize how much more we have to be educated on. And for some people, that means creating art. You, artist, dancer, singer, writer, photographer—you, architect, filmmaker, fashion designer, painter—you are educating me about society, politics, spirituality. You are helping me find patience and understanding. The arc is long, but it’s bending towards justice.

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The past several months have been less research and more immersion. I found new podcasts about art and law and art law. My audiobook list was filled with art crime novels and real art world stories. Though I haven’t made it to as many museums and galleries and online seminars as I would have liked, there have been interesting stories, new Substacks, and social media art educators, who I love for their brevity and liveliness.

Is it okay to sit back and listen? I’m used to leading, or at least running really fast. This isn’t writer’s block, and it’s not imposter syndrome, although I do have a bit of both ALL.THE.TIME. I have a half dozen unfinished pieces in my Google Drive. There is an annoying red dot on my email box where I send myself articles I see that I want to write about. My Notes app is full of bullet points, and my many voice memos are labeled with partial headlines about the voice notes I randomly leave for myself at the gym or on the subway.

Last week I had coffee with a friend I hadn’t seen in a while. She’s a writer and a lawyer and a mentor for my law school journey. We talked about getting stuck and being brave and the intersections of life that challenge the way you move forward. I felt seen. Later, she tagged me on a Substack post by another author who was writing about being audacious. It was spot on. It hit me hard, and I’ll share it here because at some point I think we all need this reminder, this gentle push, this permission to forgive yourself for being timid, and the promise of a stranger, friend, or the internet public to hold your hand and cheer as you step forward.

To the Substackers out there: I follow more people on Substack than I have time to read, and I know it’s a big big thing to write and publish and wonder if anyone sees you. So I subscribe to many that I would love to read if I had all the time in the world–and when I get the emails, I always open them because I want to help your algorithm. I support you with a click even if I can’t support you with a more thorough comment/share/repost.

To my readers: thank you for reading this, for hanging in here with me, and for following. Many of you share or subscribe or heart or comment. It makes my heart swell.

So what is art law? I’m just beginning to understand. I’ve got one semester of law school under my belt, a masters of Arts & Culture Management, and a lifetime of art appreciation and cultural immersion. With every step, I feel like I know less and less but it becomes more and more fascinating. For now, let’s start with this short video from the Clark Hulings Foundation For Visual Artists. And I will come back next week with more about art law. I’m feeling audacious.

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The Spirit Behind the Masterpiece

Art feels alive because it holds memory. We connect to it through history, emotion, and our sense of identity. We see a reflection of ourselves in the artist’s hand, or sense something spiritual in the masterpiece. When we stand before a work of art, we aren’t just looking; we’re listening to its story and feeling it in our heart.

That’s the answer to “What makes art good?” Good art has something in it that we identify with, plus an aesthetic that speaks to us, and a great back story. That story, it turns out, is pivotal. Where did that work come from, and how did it get to you? You want to be able to tell that story. Stories are what marketers know make a business run. And make no mistake: the art world is a business.

The art market itself is rarely as transparent as the beauty it sells. Provenance—the record of an artwork’s ownership—is one of the hardest elements to trace. Many great works have lived private lives for generations, traded hands quietly, used as gifts, collateral, or even to settle debts. But documents get lost and memories fade. Sometimes this is accidental. Sometimes it’s deliberate. Secrecy and prestige often go hand in hand.

Therein lies the dilemma. A little mystery that deepens the intrigue is one thing, but dishonesty and subterfuge go from conniving to illegal.

Sketches, Secrets, and the Stories Art Keeps

Spoiler alert: there’s no universal art database. The art world has no mandated registry. Each artist, dealer, or broker documents works differently, if at all. Countries apply inconsistent rules. Museums keep their own catalogues and do their own research–a business they deign to keep private. Even if we tried to build a perfect global registry today, what would we include? Most art in the world is in private collections. It can’t be valued until it comes to market or requires an insurance action.

Further, how much data is too much data? What is worthy of cataloguing? The artist’s studio sketches? Random doodles? We toss away our notebooks without thought—but centuries later, a forgotten Leonardo da Vinci sketch could be worth millions. How do you draw the line between “art” and “artifact”? Would we include forgeries, reproductions, or duplicates?

And even if such a registry existed, would private collectors willingly submit their holdings for public record? Provenance can reveal wealth, power, and politics—essentially, someone’s financial DNA. Transparency, in this case, can feel like exposure.

The Legal Dilemma: Truth and Confidentiality

The art market operates at the intersection of beauty and business—and that’s where law enters. Provenance research is more than academic curiosity; it’s legal and moral due diligence. Auction houses like Christie’s are expected to verify ownership history, ensuring a work isn’t tied to crime, theft, or false representation.

In 2023, Brewer Management Corporation purchased a Picasso painting at Christie’s, only to later learn that it had once belonged to José Mestre Fernandez, a convicted drug trafficker. The buyer alleged that Christie’s misrepresented the work’s provenance and failed to disclose its connection to the previous owner—a serious issue that cuts to the heart of trust in art transactions.

Picasso’s works are not just assets; they are historical and emotional relics. This particular piece portrayed Jacqueline Roque, Picasso’s second wife and, by many accounts, his greatest love. But when legal or moral shadows fall across a piece, even its beauty can’t shield it from scrutiny.

Auction houses must walk a tightrope between transparency and confidentiality. Sellers and buyers often wish to remain anonymous for personal or professional reasons, but secrecy complicates provenance research. When hidden information emerges, contracts can unravel, as they did for Sasan Ghandehari, the venture capitalist and head of Brewer Management Corporation, who, after his own research, harbored serious concerns once the painting’s past came to light.

Ghandehari is currently in litigation to recoup his down payment on Picasso’s “Femme dans un rocking-chair (Jacqueline)” (1956), which is valued at £14.5 million. He doesn’t want his money going to Fernandez or his family, and he’s angry at Christie’s lack of disclosure. Christie’s counters that they have an obligation to respect the privacy of their clients and further contends that Ghandehari, an avid art collector, is well-educated in the art world and has an understanding of the processes of an art auction.

The Collector’s Conscience

As viewers—or collectors—how much do we really want to know? Would you still love a painting if you learned its previous owner was corrupt, controversial, or criminal? Would its beauty diminish if its backstory turned dark?

Art is unlike any other currency. Its worth is not just financial—it’s emotional, aesthetic, and cultural. Value shifts not only with the artist’s reputation but with the reputation of those who have owned it. A painting can be both a masterpiece and a moral question.

So, when provenance exposes a tainted history, the question becomes personal:
What are you truly buying—the art itself, or the story that comes with it?

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The Stunts

It keeps happening. This time, protesters from Futuro Vegetal, a climate activist group in Spain, hurled red and black paint across the façade of Barcelona’s Sagrada Família. They shouted “climate justice.” They resisted arrest. But let’s be honest, this wasn’t a plea for climate reform. It was simply vandalism. It was a crime.

And here’s the problem: their stunt doesn’t make me think about climate change at all. I’m too distracted by their reckless disregard for culture to care about their cause.

This isn’t new. As Professor Nika Elder at American University points out, art has long been a target for cause-based protests, whether or not the art has anything to do with the issue at hand. Her conclusion is blunt. Vandalizing art alienates the public more than it recruits them.

“The attacks were meant to urge the public to ask themselves why they are more concerned about paintings of landscapes than about nature itself. But, by all accounts, their efforts failed; their actions alienated the public rather than drawing them to their cause.” – Professor Nika Elder

We’ve seen it again and again: soup splashed on Van Gogh’s Sunflowers, orange paint on Charles Darwin’s grave, even Banksy left his mark on a government building in London in the wake of arrests during a recent political protest. At least Banksy makes something new out of his law-breaking. Eco-vandalism, by contrast, isn’t about creativity or critique. It’s about spectacle, chaos, and media coverage.

And the fallout? Alienation. Anger. A weaker cause.

The Crimes

The law is clear: art vandalism is a crime. But the penalties vary. Italy, for example, has drawn a hard line. With centuries of cultural heritage at stake, the government recently raised fines for vandalism to over €40,000, and destruction of cultural property can cost offenders upwards of €60,000. In the U.S., art vandals can go to jail for up to five years.

The hidden cost is restoration. Paintings and monuments aren’t just “cleaned.” They must be painstakingly conserved, often at enormous expense. The bill is footed by taxpayers and museums, not the vandals. Worse, security measures tighten: barriers go up, glass enclosures become standard, and priceless works retreat from public view. In trying to “save the planet,” activists end up making culture less accessible to everyone.

The Irony

And here’s the irony: activists trying to “make the world better” are literally destroying the parts of the world that are already good. Cultural heritage, shared history, and creativity all become collateral damage.

There are countless ways to make a statement. Peaceful protest, civil disobedience, organizing, writing, creating (I could go on) don’t require attacking someone else’s work. If the goal is awareness, vandalism misses the mark. Hurting feelings is fair game in debate. Hurting culture isn’t.

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Why Art’s Value Isn’t Just Aesthetic 

Several years ago an ad for Masterworks came across my feed. It’s an art investing platform. You get to claim ownership of blue-chip artwork but you don’t get to hang it on your wall. It’s great for ego but not great for art appreciation. I’d rather see my art and experience the emotional high of a beautiful object than trust financial digital pips to elevate my emotions. Don’t get me wrong, some people totally groove on investing and building wealth, but that’s not art.

Is Masterworks legit? Sure. Maybe. It’s been reviewed by everyone from Nerd Wallet to the general population on Reddit to the SEC (it is an asset management firm, after all). Again, if you want to play with money, play with money. If you want to invest in art, buy art. The kind of art you hang in your home. The kind of art that supports an artist. The kind of art that makes you feel something, say something, or do something. Sculpture. Painting. Photography. 

I just finished reading All That Glitters by Orlando Whitfield. It’s the riveting true story of Orlando and his friend Inigo Philbrick. It’s one of those great heist stories that’s unfortunately true. The characters are so bold and the story is so insane that it reads like a drama series. In fact, HBO has the project in development. The story moves quickly. It name-drops and shines light on skeletons in the closet. I could barely take my AirPods out as I was listening to Whitfield narrate this memoir.

Whitfield and Philbrick met at university and went on to become art dealers, gallery owners, and art world insiders. Philbrick, over the course of 15 years, chases the money and does unscrupulous things in the dealing of art. He’s greedy and egotistical. His global art fraud ponzi schemes catch up with him and he’s eventually deported from Vanuatu to Guam to mainland USA where he was convicted of fraud. Whitfield, the scorned BFF, was enamored by Philbrick early on. He tried to keep up, but his conscience got the better of him. Whitfield’s inner turmoil set him on a path to depression and treatment for mental health issues. In the end, Philbrick went to jail and Whitfield left the dark side to become an art restorer.    

Rules of the Art Game

We think of art as something we buy, love, and leave to our heirs. But art is a commodity, so it’s also a financial tool. (Sorry art advisors, art lovers, and artists!)

Art stands firmly at the intersection of passion and profit, which makes it a legal minefield. Art is a cultural object foremost. And today it can also be a financial asset. This makes it subject to a variety of laws and regulations.

Art that is treated as a commodity is regulated by the Securities and Exchange Commission.. When investment funds involve art as an asset, the portfolios are registered and overseen by the SEC. Art, by nature of its valuation scheme, is commonly used to launder money. The Anti Money Laundering Act was designed to protect whistle blowers at financial institutions. Art is also used as a tax shelter or in estate planning. The stakes are high. Fraud is rampant. Even the big auction houses are not immune to scandal. 

There are a number of ways to legally invest in art. You could buy a piece and sell it later. There are a number of ways to do this above board: auction houses, art dealers, private advisors, etc. Do your homework and be sure you know who you’re dealing with. Remember: read the contracts, understand the provenance, seek authentication, and buy insurance. Or, you could invest in an art fund. There are plenty of legit ones out there, but again, use caution.  

Choose Your Side

I started law school because these issues of art fund legalities are interesting, complex, and dangerous. The art world is deeper than artist representation and international sales and gallery marketing. There are people out there using it as a cover to move money or as a front to celebrity. The drive for beauty can cross over into a killer quest for glamour. It’s a slippery slope into prestige for ego’s sake, and money makes people crazy. 

Are there legit art-based alternative investments out there for the finance people who appreciate are or recognize art as a valuable commodity? Sure. Christies does art financing. Bank of America offers lending secured by your art collection. There are more art funds than I can google. Finance and art are closely linked–after all, some art is worth more than most of us have in our 401ks.

The Armory Show is going on in New York City this weekend. I snuck away from my studies for a couple of hours to wander the aisles of the art world. There were some show pieces, the things the major art newspapers splash on their front pages. But there were also the societal works, the ones by and of minorities that proudly fronted booth walls. Storytelling through art was robust. I enjoyed it a lot. 

However, since Armory Show is a major international art fair, most of the work is aspirational, and few people will end up with these pieces in their homes. Maybe that’s why art has become speculative. When people can’t afford the art (or when they can but they have too much of it already) they turn to art investments. Owning pieces of things still gives you the power to talk about “my” Basquiat. 

Perhaps though this is even a naive assessment. Art investment funds seem not to be about the art, but about the money. Inigo Philbrick was in it for the money. His clients cared less about the art than they did about the money. Everything comes down to money. 

So enjoy your art. Go to art fairs and appreciate the works for what they are meant to be: expressive creations, stories about humanity, reflections…literal strokes of beauty. But also, in the back of your mind, be aware of how this abundance can corrupt if given the right circumstances. There is tension between art and money. What side of the line do you want to be on- craft or coin?

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Multi-Billion Dollar Mysteries

International art crime is big business. It’s very real and very relevant to today’s art market. Although estimates vary, illicit art trade is estimated at $6 billion per year. And that’s just what’s reported, verified, and tracked. There are a lot of unverified “missing” or mysterious artworks attributed to a famous painter that aren’t able to be proven due to provenance problems or testing inaccuracies. Consider the mystery surrounding Édouard Manet’s rumored Spanish-period paintings from before 1860. Are they misattributed? Lost in private collections? Or simply the stuff of art world legend? For now, no one can say. 

Art crime is classified under Cultural Property and/or Cultural Heritage in international security circles, and INTERPOL has a robust unit dedicated to these concerns. They maintain a database of stolen and looted works. This database currently stands at over 52,000 objects. It’s just the tip of the iceberg.  

INTERPOL collaborates with Europol, and world customs agencies on operations targeted at intercepting and reclaiming stolen artifacts. The FBI has an art crime team that has recovered over a billion dollars of art in 20 years. Nonprofit art organizations keep apprised of what’s out there and what’s not. Art world professionals, legal teams, insurance companies, and others involved in sales, ownership, and authentication are keenly aware of provenance issues. Anti-counterfeiting technology is a thing. 

Yet we’re still missing an unthinkable amount of art. 

In 1990, the Isabella Stewart Gardner Museum was robbed. Thirteen works are still missing, and there is an active reward being offered of $10 million. 

So let’s get into it. How do agencies track, verify, and recover stolen art, looted objects, and hidden treasures?

The Law vs. the Looters

The Library of Congress describes the FBI’s Art Theft Program as a unit formed shortly after the Isabella Stewart Gardner Museum’s theft. They warn that every institution that maintains a cultural collection is at risk of vandalism and theft. The reasons go far beyond money and revenge to organized crime and other illicit motives. Art crime has gotten so big in the past several decades that there are not only national and international policing units dedicated to art crime, but there are legal and security measures taken to train, warn, and educate about the vulnerabilities of institutions. Private collectors should also beware. 

ICOM, the International Council of Museums, maintains a Red List of works that are vulnerable to illicit traffic. The Georgetown Law Library has a robust list of resources for researching art crime, including the Art Loss Register and The Documentation Project, which seeks to populate the lists of cultural property lost or displaced in wartime. 

Because This Story Belongs to All of Us

You can join the hunt for missing, stolen, or looted art from WWII. The Monuments Men and Women Foundation are seeking your help with restitution of over 100,000 works of art that are still missing even after the return of over 4 million cultural objects in the six years following the end of WWII.  

You can peruse the FBI’s National Stolen Art File (NSAF). This database has photos and descriptions of unreturned art and cultural property. These misappropriated objects have been reported and cataloged, but they also need your help identifying artwork not yet verified.

The National Stolen Art File (NSAF) is a database of stolen art and cultural property. Stolen objects are submitted for entry to the NSAF by law enforcement agencies in the U.S. and abroad. When an object is recovered, it is removed from the database. However, be aware that not all recoveries are reported to the NSAF. If you have information on a work of art in the NSAF, please use the FBI.gov tip line to report it.

-FBI

INTERPOL has a public database that anyone can access (after an application form and profile are created). But for more looted art hunting on the go, they have an app. You too can look cool as you whip out your phone to search stolen item lists by country. 

Art theft is a very real crime. Stolen art means loss of personal and spiritual objects to people who care about them. Stolen art means loss of cultural heritage. Stolen art means history is endangered, because artwork is how we record society’s stories. Big crime? Sure. But loss of history and culture? Tragic. 

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👩‍💻 Paving the Way for a Career in Art Law

Getting ready for law school is no small task. We’re moving to New York City. I already have assignments for summer reading and preparation.  I’m mindful that art law isn’t just about the casebooks and court filings, it’s about the vibrant community of artists and art enthusiasts and the general public – and their access, inclusion, and work challenges. It’s real life. 

That means that I’m keeping up with the art world by following along with art fairs, diving into art history lessons, and discussing the news of the art world.

Here are a sampling of the books, articles, videos, and podcasts that I’m loving right now. They are worth the time if you’re so inclined. 

💡 Art, Law, and Insight

Framing Heritage Destruction as a Human Rights Violation – The way the media reports on a story affects how we think about a topic. This article discusses whether we see victims, aggressors, human rights violators, troops, terrorists, and governments as the protagonists of the stories and news articles that we read. Depending on the slant of the journalism, the meaning of cultural heritage and cultural protection takes on drastically different meanings. Both emotions and priorities are swayed by reporters.  

Whose Monet? – My first law school assignment is to digest the book Whose Monet? by John A. Humbach. It’s a legal primer discussing a Monet painting that was claimed by two people. Gerda DeWeerth owned the painting prior to WWII, and during the war it went missing. Edith Baldinger purchased the painting from a New York art gallery in 1957. In 1982, Mrs. DeWeerth discovered that Mrs. Baldinger possessed the painting, and a complex legal battle began. 

This real-life lawsuit, DeWeerth v. Baldinger, took place several decades ago but still has implications for how art is authenticated and assigned provenance. 

The Law According to Lidia Poët – This Netflix series is based on Italy’s first female lawyer. It’s fashion-forward, feminist, and triumphant. Plus, it’s filmed in the original language so I can practice my Italian. 

SEEN Podcast – I’ve been a SEEN member since Day 1, and love everything Carrie Scott does. She’s an art historian, curator, and educator about the REAL goings on of the art world. Plus, I’ve met her. She’s super cool. 

All the Beauty in the World – I read this book earlier in the year, but wanted to include it here because it’s so heartwarming. Patrick Bringley writes about his time as a security guard at the Metropolitan Museum of Art. He sees visitors and guards come and go, and learns about art along the way. It’s a special read, something you need to cosy up with in the evenings or gift to your loved ones when they need an extra special story about humanity. 

🤝 Your Turn: Let’s Trade Recs

I’d love to know what’s keeping you inspired, curious, or questioning lately. What should I read, watch, or listen to next? Are there any stories, legal cases, or creative thinkers I should know about? Drop me a note or comment with your recommendations—I’ll feature some in a future issue. 

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🏛️ UNESCO’s Global Story

UNESCO, the United Nations Education, Scientific, and Cultural Organization, was formed in 1945. In the wake of two world wars, the UN began imagining a bridge to the future to establish and preserve the advancements that demonstrated our global humanity and history, but most of all promoted peace. 

Since its creation, UNESCO's pioneering work has changed the way people everywhere understand each other and the planet we live on.

-UNESCO

Some of UNESCO’s notable achievements include:

2023 - Guidelines for the Governance of Digital Platforms

2021 - Recommendation on the Ethics of Artificial Intelligence

2020 - The Global Education Coalition

2003 - The Convention to Safeguard Intangible Cultural Heritage

1997 - The Declaration on the Human Genome and Human Rights

1972 - Convention on Protecting World Heritage

1971 - The Man and the Biosphere (MAB) Programme

1965 - The Pacific Tsunami Warning and Mitigation System

1964 - The General History of Africa

1960 - Saving the Nubian Monuments from Abu Simbel to Philae

1954 - The Creation of CERN

1952 - The Universal Copyright Convention

UNESCO implements educational programs around the world, particularly in Africa, to ensure educational opportunity to all young people, children, and women. They held a Transforming Education Summit in 2022 to ensure that the educational disruptions that happened during the COVID-19 pandemic will never happen again. 

Supporting journalists, making science accessible, and commissioning intergovernmental bodies responsible for global ocean science are all part of UNESCO’s broad body of progressive work.  

But you probably know UNESCO from the cultural sites you visit on vacation, in exotic locations, or from your favorite movie. Places like the Taj Mahal, the Great Wall of China, and Yosemite National Park are designated as UNESCO World Heritage Sites because of their “outstanding universal value and importance to humanity.” 

This week, in a shocking statement, the United States announced it would be withdrawing from UNESCO–again. 

If an organization with 194 member states (and 12 associate members) is dedicated to promoting peace, why would a wealthy first world country withdraw? 

📜 Diplomatic Ideals, Disputed Realities

In the preamble of the Constitution of the United Nations Educational, Scientific and Cultural Organization, UNESCO states: 

The Governments of the States Parties to this Constitution on behalf of their peoples declare: 

That since wars begin in the minds of men, it is in the minds of men that the defences of peace must be constructed; 

That ignorance of each other’s ways and lives has been a common cause, throughout the history of mankind, of that suspicion and mistrust between the peoples of the world through which their differences have all too often broken into war; 

That the great and terrible war which has now ended was a war made possible by the denial of the democratic principles of the dignity, equality and mutual respect of men, and by the propagation, in their place, through ignorance and prejudice, of the doctrine of the inequality of men and races; 

That the wide diffusion of culture, and the education of humanity for justice and liberty and peace are indispensable to the dignity of man and constitute a sacred duty which all the nations must fulfil in a spirit of mutual assistance and concern; 

That a peace based exclusively upon the political and economic arrangements of governments would not be a peace which could secure the unanimous, lasting and sincere support of the peoples of the world, and that the peace must therefore be founded, if it is not to fail, upon the intellectual and moral solidarity of mankind. 

For these reasons, the States Parties to this Constitution, believing in full and equal opportunities for education for all, in the unrestricted pursuit of objective truth, and in the free exchange of ideas and knowledge, are agreed and determined to develop and to increase the means of communication between their peoples and to employ these means for the purposes of mutual understanding and a truer and more perfect knowledge of each other’s lives; 

In consequence whereof they do hereby create the United Nations Educational, Scientific and Cultural Organization for the purpose of advancing, through the educational and scientific and cultural relations of the peoples of the world, the objectives of international peace and of the common welfare of mankind for which the United Nations Organization was established and which its Charter proclaims. 

-UNESCO

The constitution follows with specific articles defining the obligations and intentions of UNESCO. But this preamble is significant. I read it in UNESCO’s headquarters in Paris, France this year. It’s eye-watering. I swallowed a lump in my throat as a patriot, a globalist, an arts enthusiast, and a cultural proponent. I have seen war. I have known peace. To have hopes that the world will come together in peace to preserve our multicultural heritage and diverse histories is to be a dreamer believer. 

Yet governing bodies are made for realists, because in reality the world is a messy place. 

Remember when I said UNESCO has 194 member states? The UN (United Nations) only has 193 member states. Who does UNESCO recognize that its parent organization does not?

Palestine.

US Department of State spokesperson Tammy Bruce signed the press statement that said “UNESCO works to advance divisive social and cultural causes and maintains an outsized focus on the UN’s Sustainable Development Goals, a globalist, ideological agenda for international development at odds with our America First foreign policy. UNESCO’s decision to admit the “State of Palestine” as a Member State is highly problematic, contrary to U.S. policy, and contributed to the proliferation of anti-Israel rhetoric within the organization.” 

Palestine’s anti-Israeli pomposity and terrorist-led government is considered by many to be a direct threat to Israel, Jewish people, and other groups of people. The Gaza war has been raging since October 7, 2023, but conflicts in the region have burned for decades. It has come to a point where world governments are taking action via diplomatic, militaristic, financial, and yes, cultural means.

And so it has come that the US will withdraw from UNESCO at the end of 2026 over this matter.

💠 We, the People

After I expressed my outrage at my country withdrawing from an organization with such esteemed values and pledges to promote peace through cultural and scientific means, I started reading. 

This is not the US’s first UNESCO withdrawal rodeo. After being a founding member of UNESCO in 1945, the US withdrew in 1984 under President Ronald Reagan because of alleged financial mismanagement and a perception of anti-US sentiment during the Cold War. In 2003, after nearly two decades, the US rejoined UNESCO. President George Bush stated that the organization had made significant changes and the reforms warranted our membership. Then, in 2011, President Barack Obama stopped the US’s funding of UNESCO after they granted Palestine full membership. It wasn’t until 2017 that President Donald Trump withdrew the US again due to anti-Israeli viewpoints and increasing Chinese influence in the organization. President Joe Biden rejoined UNESCO in 2023 and paid back dues of over $600 million. UNESCO was expecting the US to withdraw again under President Trump’s second term, and has made significant changes to their funding sources so as not to substantially disrupt their programs. 

I’ve spent a lot of time studying UNESCO over the years. I’ve read a lot on their voluminous website, including their reports, surveys, and publications. I’ve visited the headquarters in Paris and studied their work as part of my masters degree in arts and culture when I was living in Italy. Their work is not insignificant. However, it is ALL positive. Anything that’s ALL positive is suspicious. Why do they not discuss their challenges? Where are their failures? How do they possibly tolerate the treatment of women and minorities in misogynistic and discriminatory countries?

After serving in the military and traveling to conflict zones, after visiting over 90 countries for work and for pleasure, after having lived and worked around the world, I know that cultural and humanitarian situations are not all positive. A lot of the world is a dangerous place, even in my first-world and very wealthy country.

I don’t understand how we can work to transform the world if we are not part of the organizations that do that. Real change comes from the inside. Increasing standards and decreasing intolerance requires hard work by people who care. If you care, you don’t leave–you lead.

Ah, but what to do? It’s the same solution for any advocacy you dare to undertake: speak up. You have the power of voice. 

You also have financial power, the power over your time, and the power to educate your friends and family. Support arts organizations by attending cultural events, visiting museums, buying art, sharing information on artists with your social media presence, and creating art. Visit UNESCO World Heritage Sites when you travel. Get a bumper sticker, figuratively.

Too big of a commitment? Well then, just start by reading and viewing. Visit UNESCO’s website. Watch videos about or by minority cultural groups. Read the news and become more educated about global issues. Do not tolerate hatred or injustice- not in your heart, not in your home, and not in the arts. History is watching.

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Murder. Mafia. Mystery. One of history’s most significant art crimes happened 35 years ago in Boston. It was the perfect heist, and despite extensive police and FBI investigation, this crime still hasn’t been solved. Here’s what went down. 

In the middle of the night in March of 1990 (St. Patric’s Day, by the way), two uniformed “police officers” knocked on the door of the Isabella Stewart Gardner Museum in Boston. The night guards let them in, then the officers handcuffed those two guards in the basement and spent 81 minutes wandering the museum. They stole 13 pieces of art valued at around 500 million dollars. These works have never been recovered.

The works that were stolen are: 

1. A Lady and Gentleman in Black (Rembrandt van Rijn)

2. Christ in the Storm on the Sea of Galilee (Rembrandt van Rijn)

3. Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man (Rembrandt van Rijn)

4. The Concert (Johannes Vermeer)

5. Study for the Programme (Edgar Degas)

6. Study for the Programme (Edgar Degas) (a separate drawing)

7. Leaving the Paddock (Edgar Degas)

8. Procession on a Road near Florence (Edgar Degas)

9. Three Mounted Jockeys (Edgar Degas)

10. Eagle Finial (Antoine-Denis Chaudet)

11. Gu (Chinese)

12. Landscape with an Obelisk (Govaert Flinck)

13. Chez Tortoni (Édouard Manet)

Rumors of mafia involvement led to arrests but mysterious deaths prevented anyone with direct knowledge from testifying. Thousands of calls to the hotline yielded scant clues to the whereabouts of the artwork. Eyewitness sketches of the suspects were vague and cartoonish. Years of interviews and leads and investigation have turned up nothing. 

What really happened? There are countless news articles and one really fabulous 4-part documentary on Netflix called This is a Robbery. These accounts are engrossing–not just because the storytelling is good (Murder. Mafia. Mystery.) but because of the audacity. 

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It’s daring (and stupid) to steal artwork from a museum. The only way to make money from that is to sell it on the black market. Any fame acquired comes with a nice long prison stay. Either the works are stored somewhere while a thief awaits a time to sell them, a personal collector has them secretly hidden for their personal use, or they are lost to the world because whoever knew where they were hidden has died. With a $10 million reward being offered, anyone with real knowledge would have come forward by now. 

The other concerning situation is museum security. Today, cameras are everywhere, staff are better trained, and motion sensors prevail…in big museums. But there are art collections in small museums, in traveling exhibitions, and in public spaces that aren’t as well protected. Vandalism still happens, even in the most tightly secured museums. 

🚓 Art Law and the Billion Dollar Market

The FBI Art Crime division wasn’t started until 2004. In just over 20 years, they have recovered $1 Billion worth of art. This, unfortunately, is just a small dent in a very large ocean. The division was created in response to a concerning rise in black market art and other antiquities. Cultural heritage pieces are difficult to define, but artworks aren't. The International Council of Museums (ICOM) also has resources for art crimes and cultural heritage protection. And 18 U.S. Code § 668 defines and sets offenses for “theft of major artwork.” Cultural heritage crime is fought at the level of INTERPOL as well as partners of UNESCO. Major cities have art crime task forces as well. 

But when it comes right down to it, awareness and protective action are key. Individual organizations like the Art Society print articles bringing attention to these matters. Educational arts institutions do the same. Customs and border control are on alert for import/export paperwork and legalities. The Organization for Security and Cooperation in Europe (OSCE) considers illicit art trade to be a security issue vital to the continent. 

In most cases, stolen art is organized crime. It is a multi-billion dollar global industry, and comes complete with heavy issues such as money laundering, racketeering, conspiracy, and violence. These unlawful activities can be part of larger criminal enterprises. Art crime doesn’t stop with the art. 

👁️ Your Role in the Frame

The art world needs your help. If you have information about art crimes, contact the FBI. You can check out the National Stolen Art File (NSAF) online and become aware of what’s missing out there.   

The National Stolen Art File (NSAF) is an online database of stolen art and cultural property. Law enforcement agencies in the U.S. and abroad submit stolen objects to the NSAF. 

• If you have information on a piece in the NSAF, submit a tip to the FBI at tips.fbi.gov. 

• If you or your organization need access to the NSAF, contact your local FBI field office or your closest FBI legal attaché.  

You can also access the NSAF database in the palm of your hand using our National Stolen Art File app.

—FBI Website

Most importantly, stay informed. Be careful in museums so you don’t end up like the unfortunate tourist who sat on “The Van Gogh Chair” in a museum in Verona, Italy or otherwise damage national treasures like this 300 year old painting at the Uffizi in Florence. Take care to ensure your children don’t deface masterpieces, like this Rothko in Rotterdam. And by all means, heed the warnings of museum staff because their instructions matter. 

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🎮 The Story of Games and Art

The Smithsonian American Art Museum in Washington, D.C. is running an exhibition called The Art of Video Games. Video games have been progressively regarded as an art form over the last 40 years. Game design involves graphic artists, storytellers, designers, and other artistic forms of technology and philosophy. 

Video games are a prevalent and increasingly expressive medium within modern society. In the forty years since the introduction of the first home video game, the field has attracted exceptional artistic talent. An amalgam of traditional art forms — painting, writing, sculpture, music, storytelling, cinematography — video games offer artists a previously unprecedented method of communicating with and engaging audiences.

-The Smithsonian American Art Museum

Whether you agree with this or not (controversy!), art magazines, galleries, and museums are exploring this genre. The Museum of Modern Art (MoMA) in New York has been adding video games to its collection for 15 years.  Want to try out some video games that explore art?  Here are eight games that do that.  

There’s a new video game coming out called Relooted. This one has me really interested. Here’s why.

Relooted is the second game developed by game designer Nyamakop, a Johannesburg, South Africa company that has developers from all around sub-Saharan Africa. The interesting thing about this game is its other ties to Africa–the looted artifacts. 

🏹 History, Artifacts, and Ownership

Let’s start with one of the most famous African objects sitting in a Western museum by way of colonial activities.

The Rosetta Stone is a tablet engraved with a decree supporting King King Ptolemy V. The stone has the same message in three languages: hieroglyphics, demonic, and ancient Greek. It allowed historians to translate and understand hieroglyphics and is a major key to our world’s cultural history. Today, the Rosetta Stone is located in the British Museum. It’s an artifact from 196 BCE and was rediscovered by French troops near Alexandria, Egypt during Napoleon’s campaign in 1799. The British subsequently defeated the French, and the stone was surrendered as part of the Treaty of Alexandria in 1801. In 1802 the stone was placed permanently in the British Museum. The Egyptians contest the ownership and are still calling for its return in petitions, diplomatic requests, and very stern language.

Unfortunately, this type of war conquest is not an infrequent issue. Objects are taken from all over the world intentionally and unintentionally. Archaeologists, researchers, businesses, governments, and tourists are threats to cultural and historical sites when they improperly handle, move, damage, or take art and artifacts.  

"A French government report estimated that 90% of sub-Saharan African cultural heritage is in the possession of Western collections," Ncube said. "That is millions upon millions of deeply important cultural, spiritual, and personal artifacts—including human remains—that aren't in their rightful place."

-Scythe Ncube, Nyamakop game producer

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🚯 Legal Conventions and Questions

There are a number of laws that govern art and artifact ownership. Here’s a big one (we’ll explore others later):

Per the UNESCO Convention on the Means of Prohibiting and Preventing the Illicit Import, Export and Transfer of Ownership of Cultural Property (1970), Article 3 states:

The import, export or transfer of ownership of cultural property effected contrary to the provisions adopted under this Convention by the States Parties thereto, shall be illicit. 

Unfortunately, defining what artifacts are looted is far from easy. There are a million scenarios where art and artifacts are moved out of a country and later deemed "illicitly moved.” Archaeologists dig with permits, but who granted those permits? Did they have the authority to grant removal permission? Who owns the artifacts? What if governments change leadership (or dictatorship) and want their property back? What happens when country lines are redrawn? What if an object has religious significance? What about during times of conflict? 

And then there are the times when people and organizations are genuinely trying to protect and preserve objects. What if an object is moved for protection purposes? Is it still illegally transferred if one organization/country takes an object for safe keeping? When should they give it back? What if the originating country cannot protect it but wants it back anyway? Should artifacts of cultural significance be on display for the public? What if the originating country wants their artifact back but will hide it or destroy it? When is humanity’s history more important than ownership?

These are very complex issues with no clear solutions. Cases must be handled one at a time and involve a number of leaders and scholars. 

🦸 You, Saving the World

Ever dreamed of being a Robin Hood - meets James Bond - meets Indiana Jones war hero? This is your chance. Help save the art world one artifact at a time by re-looting Western museums to return African artifacts to their homeland. Online, of course. Relooted might just be a video game, but it’s a turn towards thinking about art and artifacts as cultural pieces and valuable history rather than trophies, souvenirs, or products.

We look at the art and cultural heritage world and see big problems. Conflicts and natural disasters damage or destroy valuable signs of our history and culture. But there are ways to help. Keep telling the stories and frequenting the museums and supporting local events where cultural heritage is displayed. For me though, sometimes that doesn’t feel like enough. I’m anxious to get this game. 

Relooted game players take part in cultural preservation by learning about looted artifacts in a fun and engaging way. It’s gamified learning. It’s a heist with an altruistic goal. It’s danger right on your own platform. 

Reclaim real African artifacts from Western museums in this Africanfuturist heist game. Recruit crew members, plan escape routes, acquire the precious cargo, and bounce out of the joint as fast as you can. 

-Epic Games

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Thanks for joining me again as I refine the direction of my writing here on Substack. For more than two years I’ve been writing about the art world—art I love, interesting exhibitions, artist profiles, art history, and general goings-on. But what I research, read about, and talk about for most of my projects is art law. So we’ll start to focus more here on the stories behind the art and take a deeper look at the systems at play in the art world.

This Substack started as Art Advisor, and now I’m renaming it The Art Brief: Stories. Law. You.

Having said all of that, this Substack and audience has grown a bit so I’d like to welcome new subscribers and thank the OGs for continuing to support this journey. Here’s a reintroduction.

I'm Beth, and my fascination with art and culture stems from a unique blend of academic backgrounds. My masters in Arts and Culture Management provides a firm foundation in the social and institutional contexts that shape artistic expression. I also earned a certificate in Cultural Preservation and another in Art History while I was living in Italy. Furthermore, I have a PhD in Business Psychology so I also enjoy exploring the psychological impact of art and its enduring influence on human experience.

Extensive travels, particularly throughout Europe, have further enriched my perspective. It’s fair to say that I’m a museum and gallery enthusiast. My professional background started in the military and aviation. These roles gave me a deep look at cultures throughout the world (I’ve been to over 90 countries and all 7 continents) and gave me a growing concern about how heritage is protected and preserved, how artists are supported, and how the art world operates.

My sister was an artist. There are artists in my family and closest friends circles. I’m a hobby artist in multiple genres. Artists are very important people to me, and I believe that the work of art is to tell the story of our world. It’s spiritual. But the “Art World” is a beast, and the business of art is complex.

It all came together for me during a course in Art Gallery Management, when a lecture turned to topics like art transportation, taxes, and Freeports. Something clicked. The mystery. The scandal. The legal questions. The international implications. That spark launched a deeper pursuit. In the past few years, I’ve visited hundreds of galleries and museums, consulted on art projects, co-written two art books, and created this newsletter—originally called Art Advisor.

Now, the journey continues: I’m heading to law school to focus on art and international law, bringing forward my research into cultural preservation, contracts, legal frameworks, and the global complexities of the art world.

Thanks for joining me—I’d love to hear from you.

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Art Advisor began because I wanted to tell art stories, explore art history, dive deep into artists and paintings, and do a little research in the art world. The thing that fascinates me most, however, are the back stories, the scandal, the crime, and the history. I’ve found that what I’m reading and what I’m writing aren’t necessarily the same thing. I research the mysteries (is Salvator Mundi really a da Vinci??), the controversies (are freeports really just ways to launder money in the art world??), and cultural heritage problems (what happens to cultural property in conflict zones??). These things fascinate me. 

And now, I’m on my way to law school. I’m excited to be able to work and research further, with new tools, better resources, and a broader perspective. A professional  life evolution triggers a writing evolution as well. I’m exploring a new format here, and I’d love to know what you think. Please send me your thoughts as I transform this newsletter. Next week you’ll see a little rebrand as well. No apologies–I love a good rebrand. Although the word is overused, I think people need to present themselves differently at every reinvention. So here we go.

📜 From the Law History Archives

Let’s start at the beginning—not with the earliest art brought to American shores, like colonial-era portraits and religious devotional arts and crafts—but in the late 19th century, when public appreciation of art began to flourish in earnest.

Art law is Interdisciplinary: Intellectual Property, International Law, Contracts, Copyright, Tax Law, and more all form the basis for what we consider “art law.” Art is a big field and the issues are many. Art crosses borders, artists need different protections, business and sales concerns vary, partnerships form and dissolve, cultural heritage must be protected, and security worries are massive. Art law protects and facilitates artists and work in the art world.

To even begin discussing the topic, we must first address the issue of what exactly art is. We won't even go into what is considered good or bad art (I have an opinion!) but simply, what is art?

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In the late 19th century, Paris Art Salons were in full swing. The “Japan Craze” was blooming in America and Europe. The Exposition Universelle happened in 1889 and Venice Biennale began in 1895. Sophisticated travelers were going to see the shows, buying art, and bringing it back home. Art was allowed to enter the United States free of duty, but the definition of art was very small. Legal issues arose. The courts got involved.

As courts in the US began to try to define these issues for the purposes of import/export and duty/customs, they evaluated what the purpose of the object was, what it was made of, the job function of the creator, and the level of beauty and sophistication of the piece. “Art” meant “fine art.” Initially, this meant paintings and sculptures of humans and animals (real objects) but nothing abstract, confusing, pedestrian, or utilitarian.

Can art be useful? Early courts determined that art is ornamental, so subsequent use as mechanical or industrial or utilitarian might impact its tax status upon importation. Fine art, it seems, is only decorative.

It wasn't until the mid 20th century that we began to expand these definitions. As more and more "art" cases were being heard in the courts, and the global art scene moved more objects around, did the recognition of what art is become more expansive.

Art went from being representative to imaginative, in the court's eye. Now, abstract art could be recognized and imported accordingly. It’s important to distinguish between an artist and an artisan. Works that are created for commercial purposes, or used in such, are usually taxed and treated as goods, not fine art. This is also why numbered editions are so important. Copies, reprints, and prints made by mechanical means are not considered fine art but reproductions, therefore goods.

Why were they treating art in such a way as to confound artistic imports? It's the original American protectionism mindset. The government wanted to discourage foreign imports from supplanting work by American artists. 

Then came the exceptions. Some exemptions were for diplomatic reasons, and some were due to court cases. Work created by indigenous artists was excluded from import duties. Antiques were excluded. Art and handicrafts by people in developing countries were excluded so as to support their economic development (see 19 U.S.C. § 2461). But the overall idea was to support American arts and foster American artistry, so imports are taxed and controlled.

🏫 Fast Forward to the Modern Era

It wasn’t until 1998 that the US Supreme Court ruled on a case that defined art. In National Endowment for the Arts v. Finley, which was significant, the Court took on a case about how the National Endowment for the Arts (NEA) funds its grants that support the arts. This was significant because it addressed the controversies of funding controversial art and freedom of expression.

The NEA’s funding priorities include "artistic and cultural significance, giving emphasis to ... creativity and cultural diversity," "professional excellence," and the encouragement of "public ... education ... and appreciation of the arts." Additionally, the NEA is charged with ensuring that "artistic excellence and artistic merit are the criteria by which [grant] applications are judged, taking into consideration general standards of decency and respect for the diverse beliefs and values of the American public." There’s a lot more to this case (read more here) and we’ll dive into that at another time. But we see that art definitions can be constrained by someone’s version of decency, excellence, or diversity. That is dangerous territory at best, and exclusionary or elitist at worst. Watch out for how people and organizations define art. Be careful how you do. 

🛍️ What This Means for You

Art law continues to evolve because the issues are becoming more complex. What we consider “art” and “a work of art” are evolving. Craftsmanship, quality, and beauty can be subjective. Technology and innovation change the landscape. We need clear guidelines. 

I recently bought a luxury handbag in France. It was insanely expensive. I had just found out I got accepted into law school, and this was my celebratory gift to myself. It’s a work of art, in my opinion (and apparently Gucci’s), but it’s not “art” as defined by US Customs Enforcement. I paid my import duty upon reentry to the US. It may be categorized as “luxury goods,” but to me it’s wearable art.

While today’s guidelines are fairly straightforward for most of the art market, there are still grey areas. Art law is challenged on paper, in the courts, and in the market.

Historical rules and regulations weren’t as comprehensive. Will things change again in the future? Yes. All laws do. And what if you’re buying something other than a painting, like an antique, statue, vase, or stained glass window? Get professional assistance from an art broker, lawyer, institution, or other certified professional. Keep receipts and documentation at the ready. Get insurance when applicable. Know what you’re getting into. 

🌅 Turning the Page

This was one of the most enjoyable newsletters I’ve written lately. There’s going to be a shift in style. Thank you to the subscribers and followers and casual readers who have invested into Art Advisor! You’ve really supported this publication and me. I hope you’ll hang with me during this shift, but I understand if your attention drifts elsewhere. Next week I’ll unveil the refined vision for this Substack. Stay tuned. 

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Enjoy-

Late 1800s France: the social stratification was real. Artists were artists and the wealthy were wealthy. When the two mingled, it was at the theater. The social elite sat in the upper level, or third gallery, of the Théâtre du Châtelet. This seating arrangement was both a social stratification and a chance to mingle with fellow classy friends. It was the perfect viewing lookout to the stage below. It was a chance to appreciate the architecture as well as the show. 

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Félix Vallotton (1865–1925) was a Franco-Swiss artist with a command of color. He painted La Troisième galerie du Théâtre du Châtelet in 1895 at a time when performances and fashion and architecture were blossoming in Paris. This opulent scene shows ladies with extravagant feathered hats and well-suited men. The red, orange, and yellow colors of the theater are vibrant, yet lit with a muted and warm tone as if the show is actively going on. 

We are in the midst of the performance, and we have an observer’s view of a certain segment of the audience. Our subject is not the performance, but the theater and the upper echelon of society attending the event. The show here is really what’s going on around the main event. This audience is immersed in the performance, and we are immersed with them. 

This turn of play is a signature of Vallotton’s. It’s part of his humor and a way of creating psychological tension with his works. 

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Not only is this painting hidden from public view, it’s also hidden by viewpoint. The only way to actually see the work is to stand right in front of it. Unfortunately, to approach it, one must come from Salle 1, where you get a glimpse of the bottom third, walk towards this waiting hall, and keep your gaze below a slanted balcony beam and hallway pillars that are part of the brutalist architecture. 

The audacity of the placement was clearly not to Picasso’s liking. He allegedly didn’t sign the work because of this alignment. To make matters worse, the wood panels had to be cut at an angle at the top to fit onto the sloped wall.

The painting is inspired by the Bathers series, with two figures sunbathing on the beach. One figure is making their way towards the water, and a mermaid swims in the water on the left of the painting. In the center, a skeletal figure outlined in black falls from the sky. He’s singed from the sun and clearly emits a look of death. This tragedy contrasts with the bathers, who casually relax on their summer day. The mermaid swims away, indifferent. 

We have here a mid-century modern work penetrated by an ancient mythological story, quite apropos for the location. UNESCO, a mid-century modern organization, strives to protect and educate about tangible and intangible heritage. 

One last note of controversy: Picasso originally titled the work The Forces of Life and Spirit Triumphing over Evil. The title was unappealing for the organization, and George Salles, the second director of ICOM, renamed it The Fall of Icarus (La Chute d'Icare in French) in 1958 shortly after it was unveiled. 

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