Review of The Art of the Steal (2010) by Andy S — 08 May 2010

A friend and I recently watched the documentary Babies, which I found little more than a human version of the Avian-themed picture Winged Migration. Neither film left much of an impression on me. While one might see this as further proof that the outcome of throwing pearls before swine varies little with time, I digress here. My point in sharing this recent outing hinges on a conversation this same friend and I had earlier today.

He boldly approached me to confess how deeply impacted he was by the film. My reaction was an internal double-take, "Is he talking about the same movie I saw?" "What deep point did I miss, yet again, that he somehow mined from this seemingly inane film?" Only while walking home following my viewing of the deeply moving film The Art of the Steal, did the point become clear â?? art can cut deeply, if we let it.

Something in Babies struck a chord with my friend . . . a chord that just happens to be missing in my instrument (or perhaps deeply repressed or damaged). The note played by The Art of the Steal, however, continues to resonate throughout my body as I seek to understand the injustice done to subject of this film, a Dr. Albert Barnes. Here is a man of independent spirit, clearly rough around the edges, but desperately seeking the approval, respect, and, dare I say, love of his peers. A man who had a revolutionary vision for art that was deeply personal and enduring. Well, at least, it was meant to be enduring.

The Art of the Steal tells the story of how Dr. Barnes' world-renowned collection of post-impressionist and modern art currently housed in The Barnes Foundation five miles outside of Philadelphia will soon make its move to the Benjamin Franklin Parkway in downtown Philly. The heart of the controversy lies in those three simple words "five miles outside.".

In the early 20th Century, Dr. Barnes displayed his collection in Philadelphia for a group of his peers. For Dr. Barnes, this was not just the display of a few random paintings he bought with his hard earned fortune, but an opening of himself to his peers . . . the unveiling of the soul of a curmudgeon. He had invested years of his life studying modern art and purchasing paintings of both personal worth and those that best represented the period. His peers responded with derision, scorn, and a total lack of appreciation.

Rebuffed, Dr. Barnes moved his collection to a small, but beautifully situated, building outside of the city where he could arrange the art according to his knowledge and set up a school for art education. He then carefully drafted a will that forbade the loan, sale, or moving of his collection. The Art of the Steal tells the story of how Dr. Barnes' personal will, as set down in a meticulously drafted legal document, is picked apart piece-by-piece over the course of half a century such that every last wish is undermined and dismissed.

Without a doubt, The Art of the Steal is one of the most compelling, moving, and heart-breaking documentaries I have ever seen. With precision crafting, the filmmakers arrange their story such that with one final jab at the end our hearts are out of our chests and beating wildly in our own hands. How I desperately wanted to throw mine at the screen or the Mayor of Philadelphia, the Governor of Pennsylvania, or any of the myriad of people who disregarded the expressed desires of a dead man for their own personal gain.

As I walked the streets of my city trying to stuff my heart back in my chest and get a grip on my anger, confusion, and deep sadness at the brokenness of humanity, I came to the conclusion that neither dispelling nor embracing my horror would do; instead I must do my own work to undermine those injustices happening around me right here and I must open my hand to trust that there is Someone who will set right all things in the end.