Art and fiction…
We’re all familiar with Dan Brown’s The Da Vinci Code. We can’t by any stretch of the imagination call that historical fiction anymore—he was duped into using research elements that were later proven to be incorrect—but there’s no denying that Da Vinci’s art plays a role. I recently reviewed the authoritative study of Da Vinci, his life, his art, and his science: Leonardo Da Vinci by Walter Isaacson—you can find the review here.
There’s no denying the role art plays in Mr. Brown’s fiction. Da Vinci’s “The Last Supper” is used to justify the theory of the “divine feminine,” although Isaacson obviously doesn’t support Brown’s interpretation of that painting.
Fiction is art, so it makes sense that pieces of art and their artists appear in fiction. From Sir Arthur Conan Doyle’s “The Red-Headed League” and Oscar Wilde’s The Picture of Dorian Gray, to Irving Stone’s The Agony and the Ecstasy, a biographical account of Da Vinci’s contemporary, Michelangelo, art and artists have played important roles in fictional storytelling. Stephanie Storey’s Oil and Marble even combines Da Vinci and Michelangelo into one historical novel, for example.
Art heist stories or tales about the recovery of stolen paintings are also popular, and not just in fiction. The Monuments Men (2009) by Robert M. Edsel and Bret Witter became a major motion picture (2014). This non-fiction book tells the story of how the Nazis stole many pieces of art, more as investments to finance their lives in exile than any appreciation for the art itself. Many of the pieces were recovered. Others were found in an apartment in Munich where the son of a Nazi hoarded many wonderful treasures.
In The Collector (2014), I first conjectured that stolen artwork could be used as collateral to finance other crooked and evil schemes. I don’t think any other fiction author has broached that idea, but, with The Monuments Men, it’s somewhat implied because Nazis considered buying art like a 401(k) plan or pension to finance their retirement—there’s not much to any other explanation—and that’s just as bad as rich people buying stolen art so only they can see it, not the general public, which seems to be the motivation most of the time.
In Aristocrats and Assassins, you first meet Interpol agent Bastiann van Coevorden. In The Collector, you first meet Inspector Esther Brookstone of London’s Metropolitan Police AKA Scotland Yard, who works in the Art and Antiques Division. As often happens, these two characters and my muses (really banshees with Tasers) conspired to make me write a novel involving both of them, which I was happy to do in good time. The result was Rembrandt’s Angel, where yet another Machiavellian use of stolen artwork for collateral is presented. (Note: it also portrays the fate of the villain from The Collector if you’re interested, thus connecting up the two stories a wee bit. Of course, you don’t need to read The Collector to appreciate Rembrandt’s Angel or vice versa—all my novels can be independently read in any order.)
The heists in The Collector and Rembrandt’s Angel were different. The stolen artwork in The Collector is part of the heist taken from the Isabel Stuart Gardner Museum in Boston, a case the FBI has never solved. The stolen painting in Rembrandt’s Angel is from a lot of over 200 pieces stolen for Hitler’s proposed art museum in Linz (he was planning to move Austria’s capital to Linz because he hated Vienna). That painting is “An Angel with Titus’ Features”; it’s still missing, and only about half of the 200+ art pieces have been recovered. The painting considered in my book wasn’t part of the artwork considered in The Monuments Men. I wrote The Collector and finished most of Rembrandt’s Angel long before I read the book or saw the movie. (The publisher of the last book encouraged me to add more about stolen artwork, so I came up with two more cases Esther solves in the novel.) Again, for the major thread in Rembrandt’s Angel, my idea was how stolen artwork could be used for collateral in financing other nefarious criminal plans.
I might return to the art theme in the future (a sequel to Rembrandt’s Angel?). It’s one that motivates me. Why am I fascinated with art? For one reason, my father was an artist—not a Leonardo or Michelangelo, but an accomplished yet unrecognized painter of still lifes, seascapes, and Sequoia redwoods. None of his drawing or painting talent was passed on to me, but his love of art was. The second reason is that I think those who would deny us the chance to view great art by stealing it, for whatever reason, are despicable people—that’s really the general theme in both books.
We must do what we can to recover all stolen art so that future generations can view it and appreciate it. If you see or hear anything about stolen artwork, please report it to the FBI or Scotland Yard. Art lovers will thank you.
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The Midas Bomb and Full Medical are now on sale at Smashwords—first books offered in the “Great Spring Thaw Sale.” The Collector will be included in that sale later this spring. And Rembrandt’s Angel is available on Smashwords, Amazon, and in most bookstores (if they don’t have it, ask for it).
In libris libertas!
