This is a Robbery
Isabella Stewart Gardner
Courtyard, Isabella Stewart Gardner Museum, Boston; via the Gardner Museum Website
“The irony of progress is that it thinly veils the distance we’ve still yet to climb.”
- Rhea Khanna
An Article By Guest Writer: Rhea Khanna
Forgive me if I am wrong, or just too blunt, but I find it hard to believe that if Johann Wolfgang von Goethe’s house were raided, all we’d have to say about him was how pretty his house was and that he was sexy. Or David Attenborough—pretty house, very sexy. Machiavelli? Pretty house, very sexy. It might sound extra comical, because I don’t think any of these men had distinctively pretty houses. I wonder, however, that when introducing such cultural stalwarts, if anything in their life would take precedence over their contributions—over their life’s work and individual causes. The answer I keep going back to? Being sexy just wouldn’t cut it. And yet, it somehow did for prominent American art collector, fervent philanthropist, and groundbreaking matron of the arts Isabella Stewart Gardner in the recent Netflix docuseries, This is a Robbery: The World’s Greatest Art Heist. And to be brutally honest? Yours truly, who sits and writes this today, didn’t think twice about it at the time…
The series, directed by Colin Barnicle, is about—you guessed it—the world’s biggest art heist that took place at Boston’s Isabella Stewart Gardner Museum in 1990 and is devoted to retelling its outstandingly colorful details. And understandably so! The heist—which involved 13 stolen artworks, including those by Rembrandt, Vermeer, and Degas to name a few—is shrouded in a perplexing amount of mystery and is dotted with some of the most bizarre twists and turns ever found in such a crime (We jump from suspicious guard to Italian mob in an hour). But, this wasn’t just an art heist. This was an art heist at the Isabella Stewart Gardner Museum. And yet, I completed the docuseries, unable to explain to anyone who asked, who exactly Gardner even was. The Italian mob, however? I had their names, occupations, and criminal histories—in-laws included—swirling in my head for days, despite them ultimately having limited impact after the final scene (and maybe even before). Little did I know that Isabella Stewart Gardner herself just happened to be one of the most intriguing figures in American cultural history–and remarkably more monumental than a group of local law-breaking dead ends.
Isabella Stewart Gardner in 1888 via Wikipedia Commons (Public Domain)
During Victorian-era Boston, Isabella Stewart Gardner established herself as a bold, spirited, non-conforming visionary who fostered the very beginnings of a flourishing arts and culture habitat in America. As one of the very first American art matrons, Gardner paved the way for female cultural leadership and art matronage far ahead of the shifting tides of women’s emancipation in the 20th century.
Born in 1840, Gardner grew up to create one of the most diverse and extraordinary collections in the world that not only included paintings by Europe’s most prominent artists, such as Titian’s Rape of Europa, but also included paintings, sculptures, textiles, and furniture from Egypt, Turkey, and East Asia—making this one of the first significant collections that introduced the Boston community to Asian and Islamic art.
It was in 1867, following the death of her two-year-old son and subsequent miscarriage, that Gardner and her husband took to traveling at the behest of her doctors, who were concerned for her deteriorating mental and physical health. Unknown to them, this would be the start of the ten total years Gardner would spend outside the country exploring diverse cultural texts, art, and music. With an energetic and emblazoned sense of curiosity, Gardner, together with her husband, continued to travel across Europe, Asia, and the Middle East, developing strong friendships with established artists and writers, such as John Singer Sargent and Okakura Kakuzo.
But what deeply set Gardner apart from her time wasn’t solely her pioneering art collection, matronage, or travels—it was her wholehearted dedication and fierce sense of responsibility toward her community and the enrichment of public life. In 1917, Gardner once declared, “Years ago, I decided that the greatest need in our Country was Art… So, I determined to make it my life work if I could.” And with flair, she did. Gardner, who was unafraid to express her ideas, opinions, and imagination, used the spotlight she had slowly garnered, not for self-promotion, but to sow the seeds for a cultural revolution.
Throughout the 1870s and ’80s, Gardner supported numerous cultural institutions, including the Boston Symphony Orchestra and the Harvard Lampoon, and hosted a variety of residencies and concerts at her home. Eventually, following the death of her husband in 1898, Gardner came to build her raison d’être and the center of the world’s biggest art theft and generous media attention: the Isabella Stewart Gardner Museum. A museum Gardner intended to leave “for the education and enjoyment of the public forever.” A Renaissance-inspired sanctuary that lives and breathes Isabella Gardner. Every bit of who she was. In fact, Gardner was so involved in the design and construction of the museum, that it was often joked that her hired architect was simply the structural engineer.
It’s hard to separate such a building from its creator, as it is an artwork from its artist. And as Patricia Vigderman mentioned in the series’ first episode, “[It was] not a museum, it was her work of art”—I wonder why that separation was even made.
Isabella Stewart Gardner in Venice, 1894, by John Singer Sargent via Wikipedia Commons (Public Domain)
This is not a plea that ‘This is a Robbery’ should have centered on Gardner, but a genuine curiosity about why 5 extra minutes couldn’t be borrowed from a 4-hour commitment to the Italian mob? Five more minutes. Just to tell us who she was.
But a deeper question that this begs is whom the responsibility falls on when we collectively engage with the stories of trailblazing and everyday women? Was it solely the series that would forget to mention that one of the 13 stolen artworks happened to be one of Gardner’s first purchases? Does it fall on me, and how quick I was to accept a monumental figure’s introduction as flirtatious and sexy? Or does it fall on organizations and spaces such as Women’s Art Wednesday, through which I first realized the dissonance in our retelling and listening? Does it fall on men? Does it fall on women?
I hear Oprah’s warm, rousing voice: “You get a role, you get a role!” And a resounding shake-up, that it’s time to divide and conquer.
The irony of progress is that it thinly veils the distance we’ve still yet to climb. And that is perhaps the most important revelation this docuseries brings to light—that despite the strides we’ve made so far, subconsciously all of us aren’t where we want to be yet. That even a sparkly, well-researched show might not be there. Gardner’s life was something that needed to be captured with the same vivacity and fierce celebration that she offered the art world herself. And in a way, it was all of us who might have let her down this time.
But one person we can learn from for the road ahead? Isabella Stewart Gardner. Because Isabella Gardner wasn’t just sexy… she was liberated and she was dedicated. She was curious, creative, and fascinated with the possibilities she saw in a world that hadn’t caught up with her yet. Still, she persisted, and with her far-reaching vision, she gave us the tools we need today.