You may begin by picturing a spring day in Berlin, two months after the rise of Adolf Hitler. It is late March 1933, and a man has called upon an art transporter, Gustav Knauer, to hire him for a job.
His name is Paul von Mendelssohn-Bartholdy, a banker and scion of a wealthy Jewish family of philanthropists and financiers and patrons of the arts. At 58, and in failing health, Herr Mendelssohn-Bartholdy is known throughout Berlin - indeed throughout all Europe - for his luminous collection of Impressionist and early Modern paintings that hang at his town house in the Alsenstrasse and at the family villa outside town.
The matter at hand on this day, March 23, concerns five Picassos that Herr Mendelssohn-Bartholdy is sending to Switzerland. Knauer has arranged for them to be received by a Swiss dealer and placed in private storage. There they will remain for an entire year, safely stowed, until the banker in Berlin decides to sell them, a decision that sets in motion a lawsuit on another continent not to be filed for another 74 years.
That lawsuit, filed this month in Federal District Court in Manhattan, New York, now pits an heir of the Mendelssohn-Bartholdy family against the Solomon R. Guggenheim Foundation and the Museum of Modern Art. The heir, Julius Schoeps, a grandson of one of Paul von Mendelssohn-Bartholdy's sisters, has claimed that two of the Picassos - Le Moulin de la Galette, done in 1900, and Boy Leading a Horse, from 1906 - were sold under duress during the Nazi regime, and thus belong to him. The two museums, which have displayed the paintings for more than 40 years, claim they were never part of a forced sale and have asked a court to declare them the rightful owners.
The lawsuit is many things to many people: a footnote to the Picasso story, an historic art-world spat and the latest example of museums joining forces to win legal confirmation that they own disputed works. But because of the vast research performed by the museums to establish the provenance of the paintings, it is also a privileged and ornately detailed glimpse into the lives of an aristocratic Prussian-Jewish family at the moment of its demise.
Unlike much of European Jewry, the Mendelssohn-Bartholdys lived in luxury from as early as 1795 with the founding of Mendelssohn & Company, the family's private bank. There were thinkers and artists in the family - notably the philosopher Moses Mendelssohn and the composer known as Felix Mendelssohn. By the turn of the 20th century, they were better known for finance and philanthropy and for having been elevated to the aristocracy by Kaiser Wilhelm I.
Following tradition, Paul von Mendelssohn-Bartholdy became a co-owner of the bank in 1908 upon his father's death. An early marriage ended in divorce, and in 1927, he remarried - to the aristocratic and extravagantly named Elsa Lucy Emmy Lolo von Lavergue-Peguilhen, later the Countess Kesselstat.
In the way of wealthy men who marry younger second wives, he presented Elsa with a remarkable wedding gift: his art collection. In fact, he left it to her in a reconfigured will, making her master of all property in the marital homes, while providing income for his four sisters, one of them Schoeps' grandmother.
On May 10, 1935, Paul von Mendelssohn-Bartholdy died of a weak heart in a Berlin sanitarium. After the funeral, his widow and his sisters gathered in the country, with the family lawyer, whereupon the will was read and it was determined, to nobody's surprise, that the deceased had been a very wealthy man.
Beyond personal assets of US$684,000 today, there was the villa, Schloss Bornicke; the town house in Berlin; property on the grounds of a royal palace; and holdings in the Netherlands, Belgium and England. There was also the art, minus those Picassos, which at some point that year - no one knows precisely when - had been sold to a gallery in Munich. The gallery owner, Justin Thannhauser, displayed them briefly at a show in Buenos Aires, Argentina, then kept Le Moulin de la Galette for himself while selling Boy Leading a Horse to an American, William Paley, the founder of CBS.
The lawsuit does not say what either man paid for the paintings, though today it is likely that each would sell for millions of US dollars. A lawyer for Schoeps, who has laid claim to both, did not return a telephone call seeking comment.
By 1945, Thannhauser had fled Germany, taking Le Moulin de la Galette on an exile's tour. He went to Paris first, then Switzerland, then finally New York, where in 1963, he gave the painting to the Guggenheim. The very next year, Paley gave Boy Leading a Horse to the Museum of Modern Art.
According to the lawsuit, the family received nothing for the properties the Nazis stole, including Schloss Bornicke, which stands today in the countryside beyond Berlin, a concert hall and tourist site.
In late October of 1873 the government of Japan decided against sending a military expedition to Korea to force that nation to open trade relations. Across the government supporters of the expedition resigned immediately. The spectacle of revolt by disaffected samurai began to loom over Japanese politics. In January of 1874 disaffected samurai attacked a senior minister in Tokyo. A month later, a group of pro-Korea expedition and anti-foreign elements from Saga prefecture in Kyushu revolted, driven in part by high food prices stemming from poor harvests. Their leader, according to Edward Drea’s classic Japan’s Imperial Army, was a samurai
The following three paragraphs are just some of what the local Chinese-language press is reporting on breathlessly and following every twist and turn with the eagerness of a soap opera fan. For many English-language readers, it probably comes across as incomprehensibly opaque, so bear with me briefly dear reader: To the surprise of many, former pop singer and Democratic Progressive Party (DPP) ex-lawmaker Yu Tien (余天) of the Taiwan Normal Country Promotion Association (TNCPA) at the last minute dropped out of the running for committee chair of the DPP’s New Taipei City chapter, paving the way for DPP legislator Su
It’s hard to know where to begin with Mark Tovell’s Taiwan: Roads Above the Clouds. Having published a travelogue myself, as well as having contributed to several guidebooks, at first glance Tovell’s book appears to inhabit a middle ground — the kind of hard-to-sell nowheresville publishers detest. Leaf through the pages and you’ll find them suffuse with the purple prose best associated with travel literature: “When the sun is low on a warm, clear morning, and with the heat already rising, we stand at the riverside bike path leading south from Sanxia’s old cobble streets.” Hardly the stuff of your
Located down a sideroad in old Wanhua District (萬華區), Waley Art (水谷藝術) has an established reputation for curating some of the more provocative indie art exhibitions in Taipei. And this month is no exception. Beyond the innocuous facade of a shophouse, the full three stories of the gallery space (including the basement) have been taken over by photographs, installation videos and abstract images courtesy of two creatives who hail from the opposite ends of the earth, Taiwan’s Hsu Yi-ting (許懿婷) and Germany’s Benjamin Janzen. “In 2019, I had an art residency in Europe,” Hsu says. “I met Benjamin in the lobby