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What Did the Woman in the Gargoyle Call Her Art

Gustav Klimt’s “Adele Bloch-Bauer I” (1907) was returned to the owner’s heirs.

Credit... Neue Galerie New York

There are many reasons that among the hundreds of thousands of cases involving artwork looted by the Nazis the story of Gustav Klimt's "Adele Bloch-Bauer I" would peculiarly appeal to filmmakers. For ane, at that place is the mesmerizing golden-flecked painting itself, which ready a record price of $135 million when it was sold in 2006. And then at that place is the David-and-Goliath tale featuring a feisty octogenarian heroine — Ms. Bloch-Bauer's niece Maria Altmann — taking on a recalcitrant Austrian government. And finally in that location is the satisfying conclusion. Ms. Altmann gets the portrait dorsum. Justice prevails.

Yet fifty-fifty today, viewers may not realize how rare such justice is when it comes to the return of art looted during the Nazis' reign of terror to its rightful owners or — equally is now more probable, 7 decades later — to their descendants.

Every bit the new film "Woman in Gold," starring Helen Mirren as the indefatigable Maria Altmann, acknowledges in a cursory written prologue before the credits roll, more than 100,000 stolen works of art are withal unaccounted for.

When Ms. Altmann first sought to reclaim some of her family'southward paintings in 1998, there were reasons to call up that the odds of restitution — crushingly low for so long — might have finally improved. After decades of neglect or outright opposition to restitution efforts, international public opinion had finally begun to turn in the wake of mail-Cold War revelations about standing malfeasance involving Nazi plunder. Official reports deputed by both Switzerland and the U.s.a. detailed, for example, how the Swiss had reneged on agreements to render hundreds of millions of dollars' worth of gold stolen past Nazi Frg, while Swiss banks had agreed to a $1.25 billion settlement with Holocaust survivors after being sued for their refusal to render avails deposited for safekeeping during the war. Meanwhile, a new generation, less interested in covering upwards historical sins, exposed the ways governments, museum officials, dealers and buyers ofttimes systematically frustrated attempts to render stolen assets and art to the original owners.

In 1998, 44 countries, including Austria, signed the Washington Principles on Nazi-Confiscated Art, a nonbinding understanding that called for a "only and off-white solution" for Jews and other victims of Nazi persecution.

That same year, the Austrian Parliament passed a police requiring museums to open up their athenaeum for research and to return plundered property. The legislation was spurred in part by revelations most looted fine art published past the journalist Hubertus Czernin, portrayed in the film by Daniel Brühl. He discovered, in the formerly sealed archives of the Austrian Gallery, testify that the land's claim to the Bloch-Bauer Klimts was faulty.

Several paintings, including the 1907 portrait of Adele, had been hanging in museums after their confiscation by Nazi agents. Austria had long claimed that Ms. Bloch-Bauer, who died in 1925 from meningitis, left the portrait to the country in her will. But records showed that the artwork clearly belonged to her husband, the wealthy Jewish industrialist Ferdinand Bloch-Bauer, who fled his homeland in 1938. And he had left his entire estate to his heirs — one of whom was his niece Ms. Altmann — when he died in 1945.

Still, the newly created Austrian restitution console denied Ms. Altmann'due south claim. It wasn't until 2006, after the United states Supreme Court cleared the way for Ms. Altmann, then living in California, to sue the Austrian regime, that an agreement was reached. Rather than pursue a lengthy and costly trial, Ms. Altmann agreed to binding arbitration and was awarded five of half dozen paintings that had been seized from her family unit.

(The painting, now in the collection of the Neue Galerie in New York, is office of a new exhibition created in conjunction with the picture show. Opening on Thursday, the exhibition explores the relationship between Klimt and his patron, Ms. Bloch-Bauer.)

On the world stage, there were follow-up conferences to the Washington Principles and another agreement in 2009, just still no enforcement mechanisms. Stuart E. Eizenstat, a former special State Section envoy, who negotiated the 1998 agreement, has repeatedly complained that the -to-be widespread restitution never occurred, because of a combination of flagging governmental force per unit area and a diverseness of legal constraints. Nations have also devoted few resources to do the painstaking provenance research that tin found ownership claims.

Every bit recent headlines show, occasionally in that location is progress. Earlier this calendar month, an El Greco seized by the Gestapo in 1938 from a Viennese industrialist was returned to his family by a dealer. And the Kunstmuseum Bern in Switzerland, which has inherited the trove of Nazi-era fine art institute in the Munich apartment of Cornelius Gurlitt, whose father was the Nazi-era art dealer, continues to pledge to return looted works to the families of the original owners.

Simply restitution tends to be the exception rather than the rule. A report issued this past September by the Conference on Jewish Material Claims Confronting Federal republic of germany and the World Jewish Restitution Organization concluded that most countries accept done petty to alive up to international agreements. Italia came in for item censure, followed by Republic of hungary, Poland, Argentina, Spain and Russia. (The study, while noting that Federal republic of germany had made some progress, still chastised the regime for keeping its discovery of the Gurlitt stash secret.)

The German newspaper Der Spiegel too took successive regimes to task in 2013 when reporters revealed that the German government, both on its own and with various museums, ignored or actively frustrated restitution for decades. At the time, the paper called it "a moral disaster that began in the 1950s and continues to the present day."

In France, fewer than 100 of the two,000 unclaimed works of looted fine art that hang in the country'due south museums take been returned. In 2013, the French civilisation minister dedicated the record, saying information technology was "not because of a lack of volition on the function of museums," but because of scattered records and the deaths of and so many who were involved.

While some of Europe's special restitution committees have facilitated the render of stolen art, other decisions have been questioned. In 2013, a Dutch console, for case, ruled that despite evidence that a Jewish industrialist persecuted past the Nazis was forced to sell two old masters paintings under duress, the heirs' interest in restitution "carries less weight" than the interests of the museums that currently ain them.

Most recovery attempts outcome in failure. In general, the few successful claimants tend to have big bankrolls, meticulous records and an infrequent run of luck.

What aided in the return of Adele Bloch-Bauer's portrait was its location in a federal museum, said E. Randol Schoenberg, Ms. Altmann's lawyer. In nigh instances, he said, the missing works are in individual hands, and the owners either don't know where they are or have no way of compelling their return.

That is the case with a valuable trove of fine art, including three multimillion-dollar Canalettos, endemic by Bernhard Altmann, Ms. Altmann's brother-in-law, and forcibly auctioned off after the Nazis invaded Austria in 1938. "The fact is that artworks in individual collections exterior of the United States are well-nigh impossible to recover," Mr. Schoenberg (played by Ryan Reynolds in the film) said.

Even in the The states, several legal experts and Jewish groups complain that some American museums have failed to live up to promises to settle claims based on the merits, a charge vigorously denied past fine art institutions.

The Norton Simon Museum in Pasadena, for example, has spent years fighting Marei von Saher, the heir of a noted Dutch Jewish fine art dealer who fled after the Nazis invaded the Netherlands. She is trying to reclaim two prized paintings of Adam and Eve by Lucas Cranach the Elder. Jonathan Petropoulos, the former research manager for art and cultural property for the Presidential Informational Commission on Holocaust Assets, who provided adept testimony in Ms. Altmann's case, has labeled the response of American museums "lamentable."

However, publicizing the successes, however rare, is important, Mr. Schoenberg emphasized. "Each time there's a success, it gives people more hope, and that allows the restitution efforts to go on."

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Source: https://www.nytimes.com/2015/03/31/arts/design/the-story-behind-woman-in-gold-nazi-art-thieves-and-one-paintings-return.html