The auction attracted a coterie of international art buyers -- among those who made the pilgrimage to Lucerne were representatives of prominent museums; The Blue Angel director Josef von Sternberg; Pierre Matisse, son of the artist; and Joseph Pulitzer Jr. -- future editor and publisher of the St. Louis Post-Dispatch -- traveling through Europe on his honeymoon.
This was no benign art sale, however, and the decision to participate caused serious ethical debate. Although most of the art world recognized these works as the finest within the contemporary art movement, for the German government, under the reign of the Nazi Party, the work was officially designated entartete Kunst: degenerate art.
Art was by no means a side issue to the National Socialist Party. While on sabbatical in Europe in 1933, the young Alfred Barr, who would become the director of the Museum of Modern Art (MOMA), attended a meeting of the Stuttgart chapter of the Kampfbund fur Deutsche Kultur (Combat League for German Culture) only nine weeks after Hitler had come to power. Barr wrote a contemporary account of the Combat League director's speech: "It is a mistake to think that the national revolution is only political and economic," the director declared. "It is above all cultural.... Art is not international.... If anyone should ask: What is left of freedom? he will be answered: there is no freedom for those who would weaken and destroy German art ... there must be no remorse and no sentimentality in uprooting and crushing what was destroying our vitals."
Soon after the Nazis came to power, German art institutions began to be purged of such "degeneracy." One official press organ proclaimed: "The national socialist movement can no longer permit the German museums to be pure sites of art-hedonism, they must place themselves thoroughly in the service of their educational mission, their endeavors towards the rebirth of the German people." Art that did not promote the ideals of German health and vitality was removed from museums, galleries and private collections and kept in rooms labeled Schreckenkammers, "chambers of horrors."
One museum that was seriously gutted was the Folkwang Museum in Essen. With a significant collection of modern French art, it was deemed in special need of "cleansing." Art historian and researcher Laurie Stein, in her excellent essay commissioned by the St. Louis Art Museum, "The History and Reception of Matisse's Bathers with a Turtle in Germany, 1908-1939" (both this essay and Lynn Nicholas' The Rape of Europa were significant sources for this article), reports that in one five-hour period, a number of paintings, drawings, prints and sculptures by Matisse, including "Bathers with a Turtle," were confiscated by the government.
Those German artists who produced such work were shunted to the margins as well. In some cases, whatever supplies they required -- brushes, paints, canvas -- were denied them. For Ernst Kirchner, the removal of his work from his country's museums and the contempt with which he was perceived by the regime proved psychologically disabling. He committed suicide in 1938.
The previous year, the Nazis had toured the notorious Degenerate Art show throughout Germany; however, only a small percentage of the works the government removed from its own museums were exhibited. With these objects deemed socially useless taking up storage space, some 5,000 artworks served as the fuel for a Berlin bonfire in 1938. Joseph Goebbels, Reich minister for public enlightenment and propaganda, determined that art valued by foreign collectors could be sold. "We hope at least to make some money from this garbage," he reasoned.
The provenance of these works was not unknown to those who traveled to Lucerne just two months before the German blitzkrieg in Poland and the eruption of World War II. Many collectors and museum officials, Barr among them, chose to boycott the sale. Representatives of Galerie Fischer set out to assuage concerns that profits from the sale would go to the regime, reporting that the money would go to reimburse the museums. In fact, the remuneration was nominal at best. Stein reports that the Folkwang Museum alone lost 1,400 works, receiving only 43,170 reichsmarks (approximately $17,324 American in 1939, or $35,341 today) in compensation from the government.
Pulitzer, one of the few American collectors at the auction, knew the evil with which he was dealing. He went to the Galerie Fischer with Matisse's son Pierre, himself a New York art dealer. Matisse urged Pulitzer to purchase his father's work. Pulitzer described the situation years later: "We were faced with a terrible conflict -- a moral dilemma. If the work was bought, we knew the money was going to a regime we loathed. If the work was not bought, it would be destroyed. To safeguard the art for posterity, I bought -- defiantly! My purchases included a Matisse and a piece by Wilhelm Lehmbruck. But the real motive in buying was to preserve the art." The provenance of "Bathers with a Turtle," then, is without question. Pulitzer donated the painting to the St. Louis Art Museum in 1964, where it remains as one of the treasures of the permanent collection.
Three other prominent works in the SLAM collection were also confiscated by the Nazis from their own museums: Kirchner's "Circus Rider" and "View from the Window" and Beckmann's "Christ and the Woman Taken in Adultery." The provenances of the Kirchners are less clearly documented. It is unknown how the paintings left the Nazis' Berlin warehouse, ending up in the hands of collector Kurt Feldhausser, a German émigré who brought the works to the United States in 1941. The paintings were sold to St. Louis retail magnate Morton D. May in 1951 and bequeathed to the museum in 1983. Kurt Valentin, a New York dealer, bequeathed the Beckmann to SLAM in 1955; though undocumented, it is presumed he originally purchased the work from Karl Bucholz, one of the few dealers who was allowed to negotiate directly with the Nazis, selecting from the Berlin warehouse.
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