2
Small events often have unexpected consequences. In 1903, Leo Stein moved to
Paris, drawn there by its vibrant art scene—an event that at the time doubtless was of great
signifi cance to him and of no particular interest to just about anyone else. He was joined
by his younger sister, Gertrude, and, being of modest independent means from family
business interests in San Francisco, they settled into 27 Rue de Fleurus in the crowded
and not-so-fashionable 6th arrondissement. Leo’s aspirations as an artist never amounted
to much, but they were both inveterate collectors. Impressionist and post-impressionist
works were challenging to acquire on their budget, so they turned their attention to emerging
artists. After buying works by Cézanne, Renoir, and Gauguin from visionary dealer
Ambroise Vollard, a key acquisition came in 1905, when, after considerable debate, they
acquired Henri Matisse’s painting Femme au chapeau, which had been the talk of that
year’s Salon d’Automne, leading to the naming of the fi rst modern art movement, fauvism.
Its acquisition for 500 francs (about $100—worth more then than it is now) forged a bond
with Matisse that was signifi cant for all parties involved, but also made the Stein home a
destination for artists and connoisseurs wanting to see the notorious canvas. This infl ux of artists and intelligentsia
contributed to the formation of the Steins’ famed Saturday evening “salons.”
Also in 1905, the Steins began acquiring the work of a little-known Spanish artist, Pablo Picasso. His involvement in
the Stein circle proved to be transformational. He painted notable portraits of both Leo and Gertrude, and, probably
in the autumn of 1906, he met Matisse at one of the salons, and, sometime thereafter, according to Gertrude Stein in
her Autobiography of Alice B. Toklas, Matisse showed Picasso what we understand to be a small seated Vili fi gure
from the Congo, which he probably acquired from dealer Emile Heymann (see our upcoming article on this early
dealer). African art was nothing new in Europe (see our upcoming article on the Tradescant Collection), but this was
a revelation—and a challenge—for Picasso that was to launch his periode nègre and catapult both modernist and
African art to fame.
Fast-forward more than 100 years to November 28, 2017, and the address of French President Emmanuel Macron
at the University of Ouagadougou, which once again catapulted African art to fame through a small statement. Prefacing
the fi fth African Union–European Union summit, in a nearly 12,000-word speech in which Macron touched
upon French/African relations, poverty, immigration, politics, development, terrorism, traffi cking, human rights, religious
extremism, gender equality, demography, healthcare, climate change, education, etc., three paragraphs (255
words in the English translation provided by the Embassy of France in Washington, D.C.) address cultural property
(also known as art), the most salient bit being, “African heritage cannot solely exist in private collections and European
museums. African heritage must be showcased in Paris but also in Dakar, Lagos, and Cotonou; this will be one of
my priorities. Within fi ve years I want the conditions to exist for temporary or permanent returns of African heritage
to Africa.” He went on to mitigate this already qualifi ed statement with a slew of conditions relating to security and
shared patrimony. Nevertheless, this brief statement sparked a fi restorm in France as well as in a number of African
nations about the issue of restitution. The release of the Savoy/Sarr report last autumn, which contains extreme recommendations
for the French government (see the ART+law section of this issue), has only fueled this confl agration.
Clearly this is a situation that is to be carefully monitored, and Yves-Bernard Debie, who is profi led in this issue, is
one of its most vocal opponents (see his several articles that have appeared in these pages), but a measure of reason
should prevail as well. While restitution movements exist in other European nations, most notably in Germany, this
particular situation is specifi c to France. When the Native American Graves Protection and Repatriation Act was
enacted in the United States in 1990, the climate felt much the same. While it required serious adjustment, the sky did
not fall, museums were not stripped of their collections, and the art market continued to thrive. We’ll keep you posted.
Jonathan Fogel
Our cover shows a staff god from
Rarotonga in the Cook Islands,
late 18th–early 19th century.
Wood. H: 85.1 cm.
Gordon Sze Collection.
Editorial