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A Picasso painting was stolen from a Melbourne gallery (1986)

1 points by astdb 6y ago

hilbert42 6y ago
I well remember the Weeping Woman incident as around that time I'd heard Patrick McCaughey's voice on a recorded tour tape and I'd thought he'd done an excellent job at describing the tour and artworks. What I still find amazing is how anyone could just seeming walk out of the gallery with the work without actually being noticed, but then the National Gallery of Victoria in Melbourne wasn't the only one whose security could do with a boost. I recall being in the Rijksmuseum in Amsterdam some decades ago and being able to come with just several feet of Vermeer's The Milk Maid—close enough to examine it in fine detail and even photograph it. On the same visit, I turned a corner into a sort of alcove only to 'confront' a Rembrandt self-portrait hanging on a wall by itself. In both instances I was the only visitor there viewing the works at the time and the guards, whilst present, were a considerable distance away (and with the self-portrait the only guard in the immediate vicinity was effectively in the next room). This was one of great and most unforgettable experiences of my life. I consider it a great privilege that I was allowed to view these great artworks at my leisure without anyone breathing down my neck to see that I wasn't doing anything untoward. I was surprised and it wasn't lost on me at the time that I had had such easy access to these works, especially so given that Rembrandt's The Night Watch had only recently gone back on display after having been restored, it having been slashed by a madman some years earlier. I suppose this is the dilemma faced by all gallery directors—overprotect the works and people cannot fully appreciate them or to make them more accessible and then risk possible damage to them. This dilemma was never clearer to me than when I was visiting the Louvre: the Mona Lisa was behind glass with hordes of Japanese tours hovering around it all clamoring for a view, essentially I could see nothing interesting, a photo of it in an art book was much clearer. I left the area immediately and went back to different part of the Louvre to see another great work—one of my favorites—Caravaggio's The Fortune Teller, here too I could appreciate the work close up and in detail without hordes surrounding me.

1 points by astdb 6y ago

I well remember the Weeping Woman incident as around that time I'd heard Patrick McCaughey's voice on a recorded tour tape and I'd thought he'd done an excellent job at describing the tour and artworks. What I still find amazing is how anyone could just seeming walk out of the gallery with the work without actually being noticed, but then the National Gallery of Victoria in Melbourne wasn't the only one whose security could do with a boost. I recall being in the Rijksmuseum in Amsterdam some decades ago and being able to come with just several feet of Vermeer's The Milk Maid—close enough to examine it in fine detail and even photograph it. On the same visit, I turned a corner into a sort of alcove only to 'confront' a Rembrandt self-portrait hanging on a wall by itself. In both instances I was the only visitor there viewing the works at the time and the guards, whilst present, were a considerable distance away (and with the self-portrait the only guard in the immediate vicinity was effectively in the next room). This was one of great and most unforgettable experiences of my life. I consider it a great privilege that I was allowed to view these great artworks at my leisure without anyone breathing down my neck to see that I wasn't doing anything untoward. I was surprised and it wasn't lost on me at the time that I had had such easy access to these works, especially so given that Rembrandt's The Night Watch had only recently gone back on display after having been restored, it having been slashed by a madman some years earlier. I suppose this is the dilemma faced by all gallery directors—overprotect the works and people cannot fully appreciate them or to make them more accessible and then risk possible damage to them. This dilemma was never clearer to me than when I was visiting the Louvre: the Mona Lisa was behind glass with hordes of Japanese tours hovering around it all clamoring for a view, essentially I could see nothing interesting, a photo of it in an art book was much clearer. I left the area immediately and went back to different part of the Louvre to see another great work—one of my favorites—Caravaggio's The Fortune Teller, here too I could appreciate the work close up and in detail without hordes surrounding me.