Showing posts with label Safehaven. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Safehaven. Show all posts

03 June 2016

Provenance research 2016

by Marc Masurovsky

The “theory and practice of provenance research” seminar/workshop at the Museum of Texas Tech University in Lubbock, TX, has wrapped up its fourth season. This seminar is the outgrowth of multiple visits I made over the past decade at the invitation of the Museum at Texas Tech University in Lubbock to share information about cultural plunder, and how provenance research can serve as a tool to strengthen ethics in the management of collections and improve our knowledge of the objects contained therein. The idea has always been to foster a clearer understanding of how looted cultural and artistic material could find its way in the global art market as non-restituted property or back into the hands of their rightful owners.

Central to our discussions throughout the seminar was the following truism: 

Research into the ownership histories of artistic and cultural objects which changed hands between 1933 and 1945 under obscure and potentially illicit conditions, redefined commonly accepted notions of provenance research, thrusting this obscure discipline under the klieg lights of Holocaust justice.

Until the mid-1990s, very few people outside the sheltered world of art history, a certain art history that is, one focused on “art” produced before 1945, knew what provenance was all about including me. Yes, I admit, the word “provenance” meant nothing to me then. I might have engaged in such research without knowing it while investigating the movements of assets plundered by Nazis and their collaborators, from the scene of the crime inside occupied Europe through the “neutral” countries (Sweden, Switzerland, Spain, Portugal), before being transferred in many instances for shelter and/or reinvestment in the Americas, mostly North America. These assets included works and objects of art.  My focus then centered on the men and women who conveyed these plundered assets from point to point, in search of “safe havens.”

Fast forward to 1998.  A heady year, no doubt about it. 

An avalanche of news stories overtook an unprepared and largely ignorant international press corps which experienced great pains to explain what the hullabaloo was all about, especially six decades after crimes of plunder had been committed against Jewish owners of art collections, elevated to crimes against humanity at the International Military Tribunal of Nurnberg in 1946.

Events regarding looted art and its restitution (or lack thereof) cascaded one after another:


Almost overnight, the provenance of an object—its history and the chain of ownership that it describes—became intimately connected with an international quest for restitution to rightful owners of these looted art objects. Provenance research had become restitution research, to the quiet consternation of many museum professionals and art historians.

Eighteen years later, some of the dust has settled, although emotions still run high over how to conduct provenance research and whether objects identified as looted should be returned to their rightful owners.

Not a week goes by without a story in some corner of the world that documents illicit trafficking of antiquities, illegal sales of sacred indigenous artifacts in Western European showrooms, attempts at recovering art stolen during Hitler’s despotic and maniacal reign over Germany and three-fourths of Europe. We get regaled by stories of an unbridled art market impervious to the ethics of ownership for thousands of objects traded for hyper-inflated sums, not only in New York, but in London, Paris and showrooms at the antipodes of the earth, in free-ports, tax-free black holes where nothing is documented, nothing exists on paper, except when you traverse the force field that separates us mortals from the treasures that lurk behind protective barbed wire fences and high walls, in Geneva, Singapore, west Africa, and many other locations around the world.

Provenance research is an intellectual, multi-disciplinary methodological and analytical endeavor, characterized by a critical, empirical approach applied to the search for and examination of historical information about objects, their owners and possessors, and the paths that they borrowed from the time of creation to the present day. The approaches and methodologies implicit in provenance research vary according to those who conduct it and for whom.

Efforts to reconcile these varied approaches have been few and too far between, owing to the “vested interests” of those who request the research to be done. Indeed, many practitioners in the art world—museums, auction houses, galleries, etc.—remain skeptical if not indifferent to the idea that a provenance should make clear who the legitimate title holder is to the object whose history is described in the provenance. The lack of constructive dialogue between these traditional practitioners and non-art historians who engage in provenance research for reasons unrelated to the exercise of art history, remains an enduring obstacle to the establishment of a unified code of provenance research, which acknowledges commonalities in the varied approaches while outlining the differences and divergences produced by vested interests.

Knowledge is power and those who control the knowledge, or at least convey the illusion of control of that knowledge, exert an undeniable influence over the way the (his)tory of ownership of an object is drafted and presented to the public. Until recently, no one questioned who held title to an object or how title was transferred for an object suddenly displaced during societal disruptions, which might have included, but not limited to:

the siege of Paris in 1871, World Wars I and II, the Bolshevik Revolution, anti-Jewish pogroms in the Ukraine, natural disasters like earthquakes and floods, internecine rivalries between competing factions within a large feuding family, the enactment of discriminatory laws singling out entire groups and ethnicities leading to evictions, expropriation of property and marginalization, loss of property through duress, civil wars, mass arrests and the list goes on. 

These events, although not directly pertinent to art history, do inform and (re)shape the history of an object simply because the object evolves among people located in places which might have been subject to these disruptions which would have had a measurable or negligible impact on the legal ties binding the object to the affected owner of that object.

External factors weigh heavily in the drafting of a provenance: their apprehension and inclusion in the story of the object clarifies and enriches, sometimes complicates our understanding of the history of ownership of an object.  They matter immensely when the question surfaces: who holds title to the object in question? How did the object go from point a to point b? who was involved in the transfer?

When cultural institutions and businesses transacting in art objects sidestep deliberately the multitudinous gyrations and brusk movements that are inherent to the historical process, they obscure, skew and distort the provenance of art objects.  This misshaping of historical narrative lies at the core of the debate over provenance research.  By acting in this fashion, the institutions that promote culture and transact in art objects censure the narrative of the art object and deprive the public from reading and examining it, from learning.  Pedagogy and truth sacrificed on the altar of “vested interests”?

Should we go so far as to propose that this approach to the provenance narrative is revisionist, in the same way that any attempt to rewrite the history of the Holocaust by minimizing or relativizing its breadth, scope and impact, is viewed as revisionist, a conscious exercise in denial and rejection of history?

Although provenance research should not be held hostage by the cantankerous dyad of provenance and restitution, an ethically, rigorous quest for historical information into the ownership history of an art object may lead to a reassessment of its current ownership and may suggest that the rightful owner is not the current holder of title to the object.  For these and other reasons, cultural institutions must fully integrate provenance research into their day-to-day practices and especially the findings resulting therefrom and establish ethically sound procedures for addressing the revised ownership information of objects in their collections.

Once again, provenance research is a serious, inter-disciplinary methodology whose practice enriches our understanding of artistic and cultural objects worldwide. Its ethical and critical practice should be conducted without any prejudice or bias.



24 July 2011

The things that one finds on the Internet: Researching the fate of a painting by F. Demoulines

According to a document produced by R. C. Fenton of the British Ministry of Economic Warfare (MEW) in London on February 7, 1945, an unframed watercolor full-length portrait of the “last Czarina of Russia,” painted by F. Demoulines was allegedly stored as of May 1944 in a crate at the Free Port of Bilbao in the Basque country of northern Spain, a warehousing area oftentimes used for items being smuggled into Spain from France. This is the same Free Port to which Alois Miedl, Hermann Goering’s trusted banker, shipped dozens of works that had been looted in Holland from the Goudstikker collection on Goering’s behalf.

Document produced by R. C. Fenton of MEW
Source: The National Archive, Kew
The announcement of the purported location of the Demoulines painting was transmitted to a Miss Clay of the British Commission on the Preservation and Restitution of Works of Art, Archives and other Material in Enemy Hands, headquartered at Parliament House in London (also known as the Macmillan Committee).

If one types “F. Demoulines” in that ubiquitous global search engine called Google, one lands straight into the lap of the National Archives of the United Kingdom which are ready to provide you with the one-page document pertaining to the Demoulines painting and 80 more pages on related looting matters for the modest sum of 3.50 pounds sterling. To spare you the expense, here is the document. Of course, we can only provide you with the one page.

Aside from all this, the instructive part of this exercise is that the aforementioned note generated by MEW was located at the National Archives in College Park, MD, as an enclosure to despatch No. 20922 dated February 9, 1945, from the US Embassy in London to the US Department of State in Washington, DC. The heading on the despatch read as follows: “Economic Warfare (Safehaven) Series: No. 103.”

Safehaven refers to an Anglo-American counterintelligence operation that was launched in the spring and summer of 1944 by the US government and seconded by the British government to stanch the flow of looted assets being shipped out of the Third Reich and its dependencies into safe harbors or safe havens located most of the time in the so-called neutral or non-belligerent countries of Europe (Spain, Sweden, Switzerland). The Allied powers also suspected Turkey and Argentina of playing a similar ‘safehaven’ role for Nazi plunder.  Their main concern was that these looted assets would serve to finance an underground reconstructed Nazi Party and a hypothetical third world war, or more modestly, to subsidize the early retirement policies of fleeing Nazis and their collaborators.

Our copy of the Demoulines document surfaced in the records of the Foreign Economic Administration (FEA) at the US National Archives. FEA, together with the US Treasury Department and the State Department, jointly operated the so-called Safehaven Program from Washington, DC. Their British counterparts were the Trading with the Enemy Department (TWED), the Ministry of Economic Warfare (MEW) until its dissolution in mid-1945 and the Foreign Office (FO).

According to MEW, the Demoulines painting was the property of a Señor José Otero de Arce, a member of Franco’s División Azul (Blue Division), which fought alongside the Wehrmacht on the Eastern Front after June 1941. The obvious concern of the British authorities was that Mr. Otero might have picked up the Demoulines work as an ill-gotten souvenir either in Soviet lands or somewhere else, like France maybe.

General Esteban-Infantes (right), chief of the Blue Divison, with the German high command in 1943
Source: Atlantic - EFE via El País
The problem here is that there is no apparent trace of any 19th century artist who goes by the name of “F. Demoulines” or even Demoulines. Undoubtedly, something resembling such a painting arrived for storage at Bilbao. Beyond that point, one might never know exactly who the actual artist was and if in fact the painting was a portrait of the Czarina Alexandra.

Norton Simon Museum
Source: Wikipedia
There are thousands of documents such as this one, which were generated by wartime and postwar Allied officials who diligently brought to official attention the presence of possible looted items across Europe and the Americas. With little else to go by, most of those notifications ended up in a circular file, except when conscientious investigators were able to connect bits and pieces of information to form a pattern from which to deduce that an investigation was warranted, as in the case of Alois Miedl who scattered the fruits of his plunder across Holland, Belgium, France, Germany, Switzerland, and Spain. Miedl’s plunder of the Goudstikker collection spawned investigative leads across the world, and especially in North America where many Goudstikker paintings have been located, one of which is taking up a lot of legal time—the Adam and Eve panels by Lucas Cranach which are currently at the Norton Simon Museum in Pasadena, California.