Picasso and the jewels stolen from the Louvre
As I write this, the Napoleonic jewels stolen from the Louvre have still not been recovered, although some of their thieves are in police custody. The tiny Picasso painting lost during a move from Madrid to Granada has turned up. The work was insured for 600,000 euros; the jewels, for who knows how many millions. Or for nothing, since their theft has exposed the misery of France's most important museum. Removing the pieces from the building has been easier than writing a script : weak windows and radial saws, no laser beams and glamorous thieves with ninja moves. Reality is always shabbier than fiction, and in the case of Picasso , much smaller.
A couple of years ago, I was invited to dinner at a house in the upper part of Barcelona, a house of means, with eight Catalan surnames. It was a huge corner apartment, with high windows, indirect lighting, and designer furniture, including the Samuro armoire by Tresserra, a refined masterpiece that has always obsessed me. The stars of the room, however, were two small paintings: a Dalí and a Picasso, imperceptible to the untrained eye, even more so to this country bumpkin who knows just enough about art.
The owners of the house, who hosted that dinner, spoke of Dalí and Picasso with pride, but also with a certain degree of caution: I suppose having those things in the house makes the home insurance premium a little more expensive . Asking for a damp patch to be fixed isn't the same as reporting the theft of original works by genius painters. Although, honestly, I don't even know how the latter works.
Some fear that the jewels stolen in Paris will be dismantled and sold separately for the precious metal and gems they contain. Their value as historical antiquities is far greater than the sum of their parts, but their liquidity is low and their market is very small . Perhaps the thieves already know who to sell them to and for how much. Or perhaps the whole operation was commissioned by a villain who lives in a Richard Neutra-designed house in the crater of a dead volcano on an uncharted island. A guy who wants the pieces just as they were in the Louvre and will show them off to receive his guests, just as shady as he is. I watch too many movies, yes.
But sometimes that's a good thing. When (sorry, if) the Napoleonic jewels appear, their incredible story will be part of their appeal . Just as when Leonardo's Salvator Mundi finally goes on display (sorry, if it does), probably in a museum in the Persian Gulf, its fascinating, yet painful story will be a big part of its appeal. Its exorbitant price ($450 million at its last known sale) will add another layer of morbid curiosity. If the stolen jewels turn up at the Louvre, the countdown will begin right then and there for an exhibition titled The Stolen Treasures of the Louvre . I'll go see it, because I'm that simple. And there will definitely be a line to get in.
elmundo
