Some thoughts on Landscape with Smokestacks: The Case of the Allegedly Plundered Degas
When I first began thinking about how I might share my great-grandfather’s works with others, I focused on the paintings themselves. I hoped the subjects and scenes he painted would excite viewers. I longed for others to be inspired by the idea that his paintings captured a world and way of life destroyed in the Holocaust. People were almost always interested and generous with comments about his talent, but it never went much deeper and I was always left wondering how to better engage or enable emotional investment in the art. What I discovered is that people like a good tale, so they are particularly drawn to the behind-the-scenes stories regarding my relationships with museums and individuals who possess my great-grandfather’s paintings. The added context and layering of narrative draws people in much more than would just seeing works of art.
Although I am not an attorney, I am fascinated by the issues of Holocaust era art litigation. While I have spoken with attorneys and legal scholars about my own case, I have no personal experience in this area, because my family has never litigated for recovery. What I know is pieced together from what I’ve been told and what I’ve read in the media about several different high-profile cases. While I’m intimately familiar with many of the mysteries surrounding Holocaust era looted art, I’ve often longed for a book to describe the legal issues and judicial perspectives on the rights of heirs. It was for this reason that when I learned of Landscape with Smokestacks: The Case of the Allegedly Plundered Degas, I was so eager to read it.
This book was written by Howard J. Trienens, the counsel for the defendant collector. It examines in detail the dispute over one work of art, Landscape with Smokestacks, by Edgar Degas. The story is, like my family’s, complicated. There are questions about an owner’s intentions, the heirs’ understanding of documents left behind, about the artwork’s path of travel from its prewar home in the Netherlands to the Art Institute of Chicago, and about where and how the case might be legally tried. While there was eventually a conclusion in the legal battle over Landscape with Smokestacks, neither the plaintiff nor defendant ended up with the painting, and only the attorneys made money (and apparently even they earned much less than they had hoped). As the author himself concludes, the only real “winner” was the Art Institute in Chicago which ended up with the piece, and the public who have the opportunity to view it when it is on display.
While the work of Edgar Degas is well known and highly regarded, and my great-grandfather’s work is not, there are parallels between the two stories. It is for this reason that I find myself fascinated by the legal nuances my family has not had to address — where to file the case (different jurisdictions have different laws regarding title and statute of limitations), what sort of contingency fee would be due the attorneys, the process for determining fair market value, how the two parties eventually came to a settlement agreement, and how acknowledgement of the painting was to be worded when displayed in an exhibition. It’s not just the plot or the topic; it’s the collision between the world of art collecting, Holocaust narratives, and the world of law that I find captivating. While I found the book engaging and engrossing, I must admit that the style will not appeal to everyone. The goal, as presented at the start of the book, is to document the facts. While this approach means that sometimes the reader can get bogged down in details and legalities, what emerges is an understanding that the claims made by the Holocaust heirs and reported in the media were not provable in a court of law. While the first three-quarters of the book focus on the fine details of the case, the last two chapters, “The Settlement” and “Postmortem,” really shine. In these chapters Trienens reflects on the legal positions of both parties, as well as the relative merits of settlement versus a trial. The author notes that when the case was filed, many in the art world held their collective breath hoping the outcome of a trial would set a precedent for similar cases in the future. As a settlement, it did not, and left many questions unanswered. While the art world did not get a definitive answer on how Holocaust era art claims might be resolved, the book has deeper meaning for me.
First and foremost, it reminded me that although the emotional and underlying stories may be compelling, in the world of law, it is hard to prove anything with certainty- the puzzles have too many missing, vague, or interpretable pieces. As a result, it reinforced my belief that my decision to act as an “historian,” rather than a “claimant” has strong merit. As an art historian I can search for my great-grandfather’s paintings, establish relationships with those who have his pieces, and can potentially learn the stories that tie all of those who have experienced the work into a larger narrative. Looking at the difficult, contentious, and protracted legal battles that essentially ended with none of the parties satisfied made a strong impression on me. Thinking about my family’s situation, the very gaps in both the collection and the narrative surrounding it that inspired my search would make any case nearly impossible to prove. More importantly, however, the book reminds me that I do not need to engage in a potentially endless series of litigation with an uncertain outcome to meet the greatest of my aspirations – to better know and understand my great-grandfather’s work, and to understand the contexts and journeys of the works themselves.
Edgar Degas’
Landscape with Smokestacks