Works of art are not only objects of admiration, but also the focus of a multi-billion dollar industry, nationalist pride, currency for exchange and negotiation in criminal sentences, and a fascination for intellectuals, collectors, and thieves.
Throughout recent history, let’s say since 1683, when the Ashmolean Museum in London, the first university museum institution, opened its doors to the public, there have been a considerable number of thefts of masterpieces from museums. Of course, it is impossible to know all the thefts that have occurred from private collections. For example, in this category, and there must be thousands of similar stories, a recent one occurred in January 2022 when three thieves stole two charcoal drawings that Dalí made in 1922 to illustrate a luxurious edition of ‘Les gràcies de l’Empordà’, a book by politician Pere Coromines that was never published.
Thus, in the field of museum thefts, which I would like to gradually learn about and discuss in these publications, notable examples include the theft from the Isabella Stewart Gardner Museum, known as the largest theft in history, with the loot valued at over 500 million dollars, or the theft from the National Museum where, among other things, the thieves stole a Rembrandt that they later intended to auction for one hundred thousand dollars when they were captured, or the theft of two Van Goghs in just 3 minutes and forty seconds, known as the fastest theft.
Despite these incredible stories and many more in the vast field of art thefts, one stands out for its fame and importance.
It was on the morning of August 21, 1911, when the art world was shaken by the news of an unprecedented theft: the Mona Lisa, Leonardo da Vinci’s masterpiece, had disappeared from the Louvre. The thief behind this theft was Vincenzo Peruggia, an Italian artist and museum worker who, driven by a sense of nationalism, embarked on a daring mission that, unknowingly, would turn the work into one of the most important icons in art history.
Peruggia, a man of humble origins but passionate about art, had worked in maintenance at the Louvre and is said to have helped build the protection that safeguarded the Mona Lisa. So, one day, he entered the museum as if it were his own home while it was closed, dismantled the painting, and took it out of the museum hidden under his coat. His motivation? It was none other than a sense of nationalism and love for his Italy. He wanted to return the work to his country, believing it had come to France as part of the works stolen or assigned to France during Napoleon’s time. In other words, his motive was to return the painting to Italy as an act of cultural vindication.
Needless to say, the discovery of the theft, which took more than 24 hours (at that time, it was normal for maintenance work to be carried out and for works to be moved to other rooms or museum quarters for photography), caused an immediate uproar that, of course, transcended the media and left the French police and particularly the museum’s security in a very bad light, as it had already suffered some similar thefts in the past, though never of that magnitude. The commotion was such that prominent art figures, such as the painter Pablo Picasso and the poet Guillaume Apollinaire, were among the first suspects. Both were interrogated due to their connections with artistic circles and their possible personal motivations. In the end, the accusations against Picasso and Apollinaire were unfounded, and although they were eventually proven innocent, the investigation process had a temporary impact on their reputations.
The resolution of the case came in December 1913, thanks to an unexpected twist of fate. Peruggia, trying to sell the painting in Italy, contacted Giovanni Poggi, an art expert who, upon examining the Mona Lisa, suspected its authenticity. Poggi, recognizing the importance of the painting, alerted the Italian authorities, who, after a thorough investigation, recovered the work and returned it to the Louvre in January 1914. The painting was received with great enthusiasm and relief, marking its return as a monumental event in art history.
The impact of the theft on the perception of the Mona Lisa was profound. Before the incident, the painting was already respected, but its disappearance and return catapulted it to global stardom. The story of the theft became an integral part of the Mona Lisa myth, generating a narrative of mystery and drama that continued to captivate the public and critics. The fame of the painting was reflected in a series of reproductions and adaptations that began to appear in various media and formats.
Leonardo's work, already famous, saw a significant increase in the number of copies, satires, and artistic versions after the theft. Artists like Salvador Dalí and Marcel Duchamp created their own interpretations of the Mona Lisa, often using the painting's image to explore themes of identity and perception. Duchamp, for example, created a famous work called L.H.O.O.Q., where he added a mustache and goatee to a reproduction of the Mona Lisa, offering an ironic critique of art and the value of originality.
Today, the importance of the Mona Lisa in art history lies not only in its technical mastery and the enigmatic portrait of Lisa Gherardini but also in how its story has resonated through the decades. Perhaps what is most admired about the work is the Florentine genius's ability to capture an expression that seems to change with the viewer's perspective.
Although one of the consequences of the theft was increased security in museums, as I mentioned before, since 1911 there have been countless unbelievable thefts, whether due to the number of works stolen, the speed at which they disappear, or the irony of stealing works that weigh tons. I suppose, in the end, that just as the fascination with the works persists in those of us who admire them for their beauty, technique, importance, or the emotions they evoke, the fascination with their economic value persists in the minds of criminals who desire them, whether to create fortune or to see them hanging on the walls of their rooms.
One of the many myths surrounding the theft and the work is based on the revelations of art historian Karl Decker, who revealed in 1914 that he had met a mysterious marquis named Eduardo de Valfierno in Casablanca. According to Decker, Valfierno had been the true mastermind behind the theft, planning to make several copies of the Mona Lisa, which, passing as authentic, would be sold to unsuspecting collectors. Although this theory has been discussed and questioned and never confirmed, it does add an additional nuance to the already complex story of the theft.
Finally, the 1911 theft also sparked debates about the authenticity of the Mona Lisa that is kept in the Louvre. Over the years, some theories have suggested that the painting that returned to the museum might not be the original, fueling speculations and conflicts about the veracity of the art exhibited today. These myths and debates, which have not been proven and which I am sure will never be revealed if true, have only added to the enigma and fascination surrounding this masterpiece.
In summary, the theft of the Mona Lisa in 1911 not only marked a milestone in art history but also transformed the painting into a symbol of mystery and controversy. From the unfounded accusations against prominent figures, who would later become even more prominent, to the revelation of a forgery plan supposedly devised by Valfierno, the story of the Mona Lisa, perhaps the most famous work in the world, continues to be a fascinating example of how art can capture global imagination and interest, reflecting both the complexity of the historical context and the enduring nature of its cultural impact.
