By Lubna Abdel Aziz It was an unusually bright Sunday afternoon in 'The Land of the Midnight Sun'. The all too short a summer was winding down and a crowd of tourists, visitors and art lovers were taking advantage of the leisurely holiday, browsing through Oslo's Munch Museet -- one of Norway's most frequently visited spots. Suddenly the peace and quiet was broken when masked armed robbers barged into the gallery, held up stunned guards and visitors, and ripped off two of the Munch classics off the walls. While horrified spectators believed they were being attacked by terrorists, the masked men walked away with their plunder, loaded their getaway car -- and got away. Art theft occurs regularly. It is endemic, sporadic and extensive, reaching 150,000 missing art works estimated at $5 to $6 billion. Those are only the thefts reported to major international police organisations such as Interpol and FBI, which number 10,000 annually. The theft of Munch's The Scream on 22 August has now been valued in the neighbourhood of $100 million, together with his other stolen masterpiece The Madonna. The ease with which it was done in broad daylight sent shock waves around the world. Only a decade ago another version of The Scream -- there is a total of four -- was stolen on opening day of the Winter Olympics in Lillehammer, February 1994, from the Oslo National Gallery. Although it was recovered three months later, you would think a lesson was learnt and security would be increased, particularly that The Scream is too valuable to be insured. Norway could take comfort from the fact that it has not been singled out by art thieves. They are neither discriminatory nor selective. They travel up and down, East and West, North and South, from Rotterdam to Rio, Stockholm to Spain, Paris to Paraguay, helping themselves to da Vinci, Rembrandt, Picasso, Van Gogh, Manet, Monet, Degas, Matisse, Cézanne, and on and on and on, for years and years and years. Theft of a masterpiece ironically adds immeasurably to its value and mystique. The world's most famous lady with the immortal smile The Mona Lisa was stolen from the Louvre in 1911 by Vincenzo Perrugia, a humble Italian citizen whose only incentive was to have 'the lady' returned to her native Italy. Perrugia simply pulled the painting off the wall tucked it under his shirt and ran off with it. It was found 2 years later hidden in a suitcase in Florence. "The theft is cited as the main reason for its position as the most famous painting in the world." Nobody in his right mind would attempt an art theft you would think, but the game is easy and the profits are great. Europe's state supported museums have seen the majority of robberies because security is lax, budgets are small, the buildings are old and protected by conservation laws, and high-tech security is hard to install. Although many museums have tightened security since 11 September 2001, tracking devices are expensive, and insurance is prohibitive. Reputable art dealers, museums and auction houses check with the Art Loss Register, that keeps track of all art thefts, before purchasing a work of art, but the thefts continue. The Register's database lists over 145,000 stolen art works. Filmmakers will have us believe that art thieves are handsome, suave, debonair, millionaires, the likes of Pierce Brosnan ( The Thomas Crown Affai r, 1999), or Sean Connery ( Entrapment, 1999). They live in great mansions and have their art hidden in secret vaults where they can privately savour their stolen treasures. That is pure fantasy. Art thieves are criminals, down and out thieves, thugs and robbers who prefer the danger and thrill of picking a work of art to cars, cameras, or crystals. "Art and antique thefts worldwide is estimated to be the third largest crime area after drugs and guns!" While banks hide their money in steel safes and underground vaults with armed guards surrounding them, museums display their treasures for maximum viewing. European museums "are as open as a street fair" writes English art historian Edward Dolnick, author of The Rescue Artist. Dolnick imagines a fabulous museum ( A Museum of the Missing ), the size of the Louvre, housing the world's stolen art: "It's treasures would include 551 Picassos, 289 Chagalls, 174 Rembrandts, 43 Van Goghs, 209 Renoirs, as well as Vermeers, Caravaggios, Van Eycks, Cézannes, Utrillos, Buffets, Lautrecs and Dalis." Europe is notorious for its art thefts, but the biggest one in history occurred in the US only 14 years ago at Boston's Isabella Stewart Gardner Museum. On 18 March 1990 two con men, dressed as police officers walked away with 13 masterpieces valued at over $1/2 billion, including three Rembrandts, a Vermeer, a Flinck, a Manet, and five Degas sketches. Despite a $5 million reward their whereabouts are still a mystery and it remains the most significant unsolved art theft of all time. While such a heist might make filmmakers salivate, the most hurtful to art lovers is the one known as The Lady of the River which could easily top the best of 'film noir'. Frenchman Stephane Breitwieser and his girl friend, over a span of seven years stole 172 artworks from museums around Europe including the Louvre, valued at $1.8 billion, just for the thrill of it. When his mother Mireille discovered her son's crime, she was so infuriated that she tore them up and dumped them in a waste disposal unit and a nearby canal. Who is Edvard Munch and why does his Scream resonate around the world? Born in Lèten, Norway in 1863, Munch's childhood though culturally stimulating was besieged with trauma and tragedy. His mother died of tuberculosis when he was only five, his older sister followed within a few short years. His younger sister was diagnosed with a mental illness and of the five siblings, the only one to marry, Andreas died a few months after his wedding. Munch started painting at 17. A state grant allowed him to study in Paris and Berlin where he lived for the next two decades. In 1892 his exhibition at "Unter den Linden" although a "succès de scandale", so shocked the authorities it was closed within days. Entitled "Frieze of Life -- A Poem About Life, Love and Death", it included motifs that were dark and melancholic like his famous Death in the Sick Room, Moonlight and Vampire. Death was a recurring theme, so was The Scream. They expressed Munch's emotional instability and "inner hell". He also dwelt on the nocturnal side of love and in time he added such motifs as Anxiety, Ashes, Madonna. Munch developed an emotionally charged style that pioneered the Expressionist movement at the turn of the century. The Scream is a harrowing figure of a tormented lad, (lass, man, child?) covering his ears from the agonising sound of distress, a desperate aspect of fin-de- siècle tragic apocalypse. It is the 20th century's iconic masterpiece representing the angst and anxiety of our times, reproduced on prints, posters, notepads, calendars, mugs and even mouse pads. The other painting stolen -- The Madonna is considered a masterpiece of eroticism. She is alluring, with long black hair and a blood red halo in a dark swirling aura. The art industry spends tens of millions every year hunting down stolen art, but it is seldom recovered. None of the 13 pieces of the Isabella Gardner Museum have been found and 90 per cent of stolen art is lost forever. When thieves cannot sell their stolen artworks, they are often forgotten, abandoned, or dumped. On the rarest of occasions they are returned. Last year a clutch of works by Van Gogh, Picasso and Paul Gauguin was found rolled up in a cardboard tube behind a toilet, just 200 yards from the UK gallery from which they were stolen. They were accompanied by a note from the thieves congratulating the museum for its great security. "A thing of beauty is a joy forever" -- until thieves get in the way. If and when Munch's Scream resurfaces, it will have doubled in value, popularity, interest and importance. That is little comfort for art lovers who plead with scientists to safeguard our art as efficiently as they do radium, nuclear weapons, gold, and diamonds. There is some good news however, the frames of the two masterpieces were recovered by a roadside under the cover of darkness in 'The Land of the Midnight Sun'. The fault is great in man and woman Who steals a goose from off a common; But what can plead that man's excuse Who steals a common from a goose? Anonymous -- The Tuckler Magazine, 1 Feb, 1821
