Dear President Sheinbaum: You must expropriate and nationalize the Gelman Collection

History is rife with expropriations. Mexico, in fact, has a long track record of such actions — ranging from oil and electricity companies plagued by corruption to banks and, yes, even soda and bicycle factories — after these companies or industries lost money, eroded confidence in the respect for private property or distorted the market. Few, however, came close to meeting the correct legal threshold for nationalization: “public utility.” Jacques and Natasha Gelman were naturalized Mexican citizens who put together a world-class collection of paintings from their adopted country’s greatest artists. (Somos Arte Experiencias/Instagram) But once every century or so, a compelling case arises for taking such a significant step. The Gelman Collection — which is currently on display in Mexico City and whose works include a virtual who’s who of 20th-century Mexican art, with paintings by Frida Kahlo, Diego Rivera, David Alfaro Siqueiros, Rufino Tamayo, María Izquierdo, Gunther Gerzso, Carlos Mérida, Francisco Toledo, Agustín Lazo, Lucero Isaac and Miguel Covarrubias, among others — presents just such a moment. President Claudia Sheinbaum Pardo must seize and nationalize it, and she must do so now. History will be set right. Mexico will reclaim its artistic soul. A government will reaffirm the role of the state. Mexico’s youth will be enriched and compensated for potentially being deprived of the opportunity to view these works in the future. The tourism industry will flourish. The legal reasoning for expropriation Everyone wins when this collection is liberated from the hands of a privileged few whose connection to it remains unconvincing. Even the most staunch defenders of the free market would applaud such a move. To borrow the title of a 1949 painting by Frida Kahlo — whose works feature prominently in the Gelman Collection — an “Embrace of Love of the Universe” would finally be complete. Let us begin with a fundamental matter: the legal basis. It lies with the Executive Branch. Article 27 of the 1917 Constitution provides the initial framework, establishing the right to seize property — with just compensation — to safeguard national sovereignty. This is complemented by Article 36 of the 1972 Federal Law on Monuments and Archaeological, Artistic and Historical Zones, and is, in turn, reinforced by a 1984 decree issued by then-President Miguel de la Madrid. No court is likely to overturn a government claim involving Kahlo — a woman of German and mestizo descent — particularly when viewed alongside the warmth with which Mexico opened its doors to the Gelmans, Eastern European refugees who would eventually become her patrons. What about political backlash? Sheinbaum has said that while artworks designated as cultural heritage of Mexico — as is the case with works in the Gelman Collection — cannot be sold abroad, they can be exhibited in foreign countries. But what if they don’t come back? (Moisés Pablo/Cuartoscuro) There is no issue here. The Morena party majority in the Chamber of Deputies and the Senate — a body seemingly unacquainted with the concept of dissent — would fall into line within seconds to establish a long-term financial compensation mechanism that ensures everyone involved in this process emerges a winner. If the President does not take the initiative, Congress could very well do so. Nationalization secures a permanent home for a collection that, better than any other body of modern art, embodies the Mexico of a bygone era. Nearly a century ago, the country opened its doors to Jacques and Natasha Gelman — he a de facto refugee, she an officially recognized one — and their contribution to Mexican culture is now deeply woven into the fabric of daily life. Nationalization honors them by keeping the fruits of their labor within the borders of the nation that adopted them and offered them abundant opportunities. The collection belongs in Mexico The current generation of Mexicans knows next to nothing about Kahlo or the artists whose works comprise this coveted collection: a body of art officially designated as an “artistic monument.” To many, Kahlo is simply the artist whose image graces the 500-peso banknote. It is time to rectify this by making the Gelman Collection accessible to all — without requiring a passport or the burden of paying exorbitant admission fees abroad. There is no justification for this collection to be housed in Spain, just as there would be no justification for the United States Declaration of Independence to be housed in London. Why should a piece by Kahlo, such as her masterpiece “Diego on My Mind,” be exhibited abroad for extended periods when it has barely been seen in Mexico during the 21st century? A surfeit of wills The “Mona Lisa” has not left the Louvre since 1974. It simply makes no sense. Even if the legal status of the Gelman Collection were currently unimpeachable, nationalization would still be a legitimate consideration. But, given its legal fragility, it is even more so. Since Natasha Gelman died in Cuernavaca in 1998, the legal permitting process has been shrouded in shadows. According to published reports, there have been five Mexican wills. There was also at least one — and possibly more — in the United States. What were the original wishes of Jacques, who died in Houston in 1986, and of Natasha, who died in Cuernavaca in 1998? The narratives differ, and there is little credible history available beyond the verbal testimonies and assurances of the small, predominantly American group that surrounded Natasha until her death; a group that would later face allegations of fraud, elder abuse, undue influence, organized crime and collusion. Mexican courts, too, were treated with disdain by Robert Littman, the apparent legal beneficiary of the artworks. In 2008, the treasurer of the Vergel Foundation — John B. Koegel, an arts and entertainment attorney — justified moving the art out of Mexico without any known documentation of a legal export process. Really? Would a dispute with a Mexican court justify a clandestine removal? If the collection was exported legally — and that remains a possibility — where is the Mexican government to confirm it? Requests for comment on this story directed to Littman, submitted through the New York-based nonprofit Vergel Foundation, have gone unanswered, although Littman’s staff did respond to The New York Times (and its largely favorable coverage). A lack of accountability The removal of the collection from Cuernavaca in 2008 is not the only instance of a lack of accountability on the part of the Mexican government. The agencies responsible for enforcing heritage laws have been absent — or less than responsible — when it comes to serving the Mexican people. Representatives from Mexican consulates have attended galas at exhibitions of the Gelman Collection around the world over the last decade, yet direct accountability to the Mexican people has been conspicuously absent. Requests for records have frequently been denied by the National Institute of Fine Arts and Literature (INBAL), the entity responsible for arts and culture. This lack of accountability, in and of itself, constitutes grounds for corrective action: nationalization. Nationalization rectifies and reconciles legal decisions made in Mexico and the United States, decisions that raise more questions than they provide answers. Litigation in the United States cast serious doubt on whether Littman was, in fact, the legitimate designated beneficiary and whether he benefited unduly following Natasha’s death. Not only do published reports document that Littman received more than US $11 million, but several lawsuits filed against Littman in Mexico challenged what are believed to be five wills created and revised by Natasha Gelman. Few who are familiar with the history of the Gelman saga believe that the contested Mexican wills were actually “created and revised by Natasha.” The many schemes to defraud an elderly woman This portrait of Natasha Gelman by Diego Rivera is a jewel of the Gelman art collection. (Diego Rivera) In the United States, lawsuits filed in 2000 and 2002 accused Littman — along with other prominent New York attorneys — of elder abuse, alleging in specific detail that they kept Natasha confined to her home in Cuernavaca and induced changes to, as well as the removal of, beneficiaries. A lawsuit filed by the Weizmann Institute of Science begins: “This action arises from a fraudulent scheme perpetrated by defendants Janet C. Neschis, Robert R. Littman and others, to defraud Ms. Natasha Gelman, a wealthy and elderly widow who became mentally incapacitated during the final years of her life. The purpose of the scheme was to gain control of Ms. Gelman’s considerable assets and divert them for the personal use and benefit of Neschis and Littman.” Neschis, Littman, and others — including Marilyn Diamond, a prominent New York judge — also allegedly transferred funds from other accounts belonging to Natasha to themselves in various ways, according to the lawsuit. In a final will, the Metropolitan Museum of Art was cut out; Littman’s share of Natasha’s assets increased from 1% to 31%; members of the Gelman family virtually disappeared; the Jung family was offered US $10,000 instead of the percentage shares allotted in previous wills; and medical charities were similarly downgraded or eliminated. Grounds for annulment of wills Sufficient legal grounds likely exist for Mexico to, in fact, retroactively annul all of the Gelman wills based on testimony regarding elder abuse and unjust enrichment. Once again, it is reports published in New York newspapers that highlight the relationship of indulgence Sidney E. Cohn and William S. Liebermann maintained with Gelman — a relationship that ultimately allowed Marilyn Diamond to insert herself and her daughter into Gelman’s will. Annulling the wills entirely would constitute a dramatic assertion of national rights and, if legally viable, would send an appropriate message to the rest of the world. Separately, Mexico could even invoke the Washington Principles, which provide ethical guidelines for identifying, locating and restituting works of art confiscated by the Nazis to their rightful owners of Jewish origin. These are longer-term and more sophisticated arguments; however, a direct nationalization would be more expeditious. The stakes are very high when it comes to the Gelman Collection; this would be a landmark case for the people, one not involving energy or mining, but rather art and historical legacy, intended for the delight and cultural enrichment of a new generation of Mexicans who are showing increasing interest in the works currently on display at the Museum of Modern Art in Mexico City. Providing an additional jewel to Mexico’s booming tourism industry may not be — and should not be — the sole justification for nationalization; however, it is an indisputable collateral benefit. As such, the issue fits perfectly into the broader question of how a country with rising public debt can easily justify keeping such a collection at home. An instructive look at another work of art Is “Diego on My Mind” by Frida Kahlo the “Mona Lisa” of Mexico? A case can be made, including that it should be displayed and marketed similarly. (Fine Art America) Last year, nearly 9 million people passed through the Louvre Museum in Paris to view the “Mona Lisa.” “Diego on My Mind” serves as its equivalent in the Western Hemisphere. Does no one realize that a museum — perhaps located in the Fourth Section of Chapultepec Park, or near the Soumaya, Jumex, Museum of Modern Art or National Museum of Anthropology — could be built around this painting by Kahlo and other iconic pieces? Financially, this would not be the wasteful endeavor seen in other failed nationalizations, where there is never any hope of recouping the initial investment. As with any expropriation, the Mexican Congress might need to allocate funds to cover the initial outlay; however, its role would be that of a guarantor rather than a debtor. As has been the case with other tourism ventures — such as the development of Cancún or Cabo San Lucas — Mexico would find private-sector entities (including non-profits) willing to assume the risks and reap the rewards of managing the operation. The country’s trust funds and public-private partnerships have often operated to the benefit of all stakeholders. In fact, Mexico could even choose to collaborate with the collection’s current owners in Monterrey. The case for expropriation Should the entire collection be seized? That matter can be addressed later. It makes sense to seize all pieces of the Gelman Collection currently under Mexican control: specifically those housed at the government-owned Museum of Modern Art. Other works, including the 10 pieces by Kahlo and the 20 pieces classified as “historical monuments” by Diego Rivera, María Izquierdo, José Clemente Orozco and David Alfaro Siqueiros, can be handled on a case-by-case basis. It would be more advantageous for Mexico to acquire the entire package and sort out the minutiae later. This collection is scheduled to make its farewell in July. Time is running short. … including other collections Indeed, when observing Mexico’s detached attitude toward the Gelman Collection, the question arises: why not nationalize the SOP Collection, which was subject to the same history and legal conditions? It should be done. That collection — comprising 81 paintings, drawings and bronzes by 30 European artists — offers a glimpse into French and European culture during the early decades of the 20th century. The collection, which includes works by Bonnard, Braque, Dalí, Dubuffet, Matisse, Miró, Picasso, and Giacometti, was transferred to the Metropolitan Museum of Art from Natasha’s New York apartment in 1989; nine years later, at the time of Natasha’s death, it was designated a bequest. Natasha Gelman (right) stipulated that she wanted the collection to remain in Mexico. The problem? Too many wills, which have created a vacuum for legal controversies. (Somos Arte Experiencias/Instagram) Nationalization would serve another function as a kind of cleansing of governmental ineptitude or political corruption. Nationalizing would serve as a precedent, signaling to the world that Mexico’s heritage laws are real. No future concealment of collections or inaccurate tracking will be tolerated. The next time Mexico is called upon to protect its heritage, officials will not behave as if they were ignorant or complicit. Stopping the pillage of Mexican art and culture Of course, the nationalization of the Gelman Collection would cause entrepreneurs, art dealers and speculators at firms like Sotheby’s to raise their eyebrows, fearing a market disruption that would jeopardize their secretive business model. But this also presents a reward: an opportunity for Mexico to legitimize its stewardship of culture and send the right signals abroad to put a stop to all forms of pillage, however sophisticated they may be. No, the history of nationalizations is not a pretty one, whether in Mexico, Venezuela, Iran or Russia. It is always concerning when leaders — vested with power and the national flag — decide that they know better than the market. Yet, there is a right moment for it. Like now. To President Sheinbaum: On the day you took office, you paid tribute to Frida Kahlo before your 125 million fellow citizens. Those words will ring hollow if you allow her works to be more acclaimed by others abroad than by those at home. More recently, in Barcelona — during the so-called “Summit of Progressive Leaders” organized by the Spanish government — you stated: “I come here to acknowledge the courage of Frida Kahlo, who, even amidst physical frailty, knew how to fill the struggle for justice with color.” It is a time for justice, not for patriotic narratives. Frida Kahlo’s paintings have exploded in value at auctions in recent years, with at least one example fetching in excess of US $50 million. But to Mexico, these works are priceless. (Banco Santander) You may, in good faith, accept the Banco Santander Foundation’s plans to return the collection within two years. Yet let us not forget that the art world is rife with unfulfilled guarantees and broken promises. The Banco Santander Foundation assures us that any damage or degradation will be minimal; however, those within the art world know that the deterioration of quality is as certain as the law of gravity. Published financial documents suggest that Banco Santander may hold a lien on a loan that enabled the Zambrano family to acquire the collection. What happens if the Zambrano family defaults? The Spanish bank becomes the owner. What real guarantee is there that the Gelman Collection will return? Are we to take the word of the very same people, citizens and public servants alike, who have blocked us and denied us information for at least 18 years? Precedents for action Use the precedent of the private Remedios Varo collection — safeguarded by the INBAL since it was donated in 2002 by a foreign couple — as a basis to affirm that your administration protects our cultural heritage and historical monuments for the benefit of the people. Leadership entails persuading, enticing, intimidating, pressuring and appealing to every type of personality under the sun. Nationalizing this collection need not be an adversarial process. Through just a few meetings — and by leveraging your authority — you could swiftly ensure that this works for all the stakeholders involved. No matter how one views it, the ownership of the Gelman Collection remains murky. You must declare that no private interest stands above the interest of the Nation. Tell us all, right now, that reclaiming these works is genuinely “what the People demand.” Keith Rosenblum and Jesús Ibarra are contributors to Mexico News Daily.