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dopescotlandwarrior · 5 years ago

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Sinners & Saints - Chapter One

Special thanks to @statell for all your help.

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Chapter One

Galerie Charpentier is home to Sotheby’s Auction house in the center of the Parisian art world and host to almost eighty auctions per year. Art buyers worldwide watch for pieces to add to their collection and millions of dollars change hands as the gavel comes down on the final bids. A rare Rembrandt was up for sale today. One of three self-portraits done by the artist and the only one still in a private collection. The estimated price at auction is twenty-eight to thirty-five million dollars for the eight by twelve-inch painting. It will elevate any collection to new boasting heights and there is a lot of interest.

Jamie Fraser walked the halls of the auction house and checked in on his team trying to stay clear of buyers flocking into the building. He could care less about the art bought and sold today. He was here to catch a master art thief, his nemesis, who bested him at every turn. Jamie was number one in the world for profiling and catching the most accomplished thieves until he signed on to find Casper, the most prolific art thief in Europe. He was dubbed Casper because he came in and went out like a ghost, leaving nothing behind.

Jamie’s jaw clenched thinking of the many times he was closing in on his prey only to have him vanish with the prized art. This time was different, he could feel it. He was tipped off by a black-market snitch that told him the Rembrandt would be in play soon and that painting was being sold today. Casper had to be here, and Jamie would leave him crippled when he took him down. Payback for leading a merry chase for the past two years.

Jamie walked quickly toward the back entrance to verify the doors were locked. He was surprised to pass a large group of people in one of the auditoriums and glanced at the signboard, Doctor Claire Beauchamp, professor of fine arts, University of Chicago. By the size of the audience, she was quite popular. Jamie caught a glimpse of the striking professor in a body-hugging dress that she wore like a fashion model. Black rimmed glasses were perched on her nose above red lipstick and a pile of hair on top of her head that looked exquisitely messy. She pushed a coil of hair off her face and looked up at a huge screen, flipping slides with a remote control. One word came to Jamie’s mind; fascinating. His earpiece crackled and he spun around to head back to the front of the building.

Claire Beauchamp clicked for the next slide, clicked again, and again to no avail. She apologized to the audience and ripped her headset off to find some assistance. Five minutes later she was back to wrap up the lecture with the slides moving perfectly.

Jamie walked by the auditorium three more times as the professor worked her way through the questions, signed copies of her new book, and accepted the thanks of the Parisian art world. Jamie watched her, knowing the auction was underway and the clock was ticking on Casper’s entrance.

“Doctor Beauchamp, there’s a rumor you’re joining the team to catch Casper. Any truth to that?”

“Well, no. He has stolen pieces that I have a particular fondness for, and I would love to help catch him, but I have not been asked. It’s just a rumor.”

Claire shrugged her shoulders and smiled at the last of the people leaving. She stuffed her materials into her briefcase and took a deep cleansing breath. She had one more meeting and a plane to catch back to Chicago. She would give anything for a day to herself in Paris to wander around the Louvre and spend as much time as she wanted with the Masters. Maybe next time, she thought.

Claire emerged from the auditorium and made her way to the back entrance where she was allowed to park. She stopped abruptly and opened her case, smiling when she saw her headset tucked safely inside. She pulled the case up to secure the retaining strap and lowered her arm as the explosion blew her sideways, off her feet, and into a wall that was coming down. She could hear herself screaming until something heavy hit her on the head. Her screaming stopped.

Claire was vaguely aware she was laying in rubble from an explosion. The rubble was warm and had hands that held her upper arms, and a voice that kept asking if she was alright. She tried to lift her head and bumped it on something above her.

“What the bloody hell?”

Her hands were splayed on someone’s chest and she felt around deciding it was a male with a body like Arnold Schwarzenegger! Claire looked to her right and left seeing the tiny space they were pinned into and her heart pounded in her chest, feeling the claustrophobic fear that made elevators impossible.

“Jesus Christ, I have to get out of here, right now! Help me get out of here Mister, please!”

She felt the beefy arms wrap around her and hold her down making the panic even worse. Her wiggling made it hard to hear the man saying her name, getting more stern by the second. He finally held her tightly to him and warned her not to move.

“Doctor Beauchamp, Doctor Beauchamp, Claire! Stop moving! Something is holding the tonnage of walls, ceiling, and live wires above us. If you knock it loose it will kill us. Do you understand?”

Claire gripped his arms and panted from her attempt to escape. She listened to his voice calming her down and telling her to breathe with him. He was very encouraging and kept telling her they would be all right. He talked her down from a panic attack but kept his hands on her to be sure.

“May I call you Claire?”

“Yes,” she whispered.

“Alright, thank you. I need your help lass. Look around for something strong, like metal, a strong metal box, or something like that not connected to anything, free moving and about a foot tall. Do you see anything like that?”

“Why, for what?” Claire finally lifted her head a few inches and looked up at the man’s head, but it wasn’t there. A very large piece of the wall was suspended right above his throat and his head was on the other side of it.

“Oh my God, oh my God! Sweet Jesus, what are we going to do?” Her panic was rising again, and the arms came around her while the disembodied voice told her to breathe and keep her wits about her. It took several minutes but she finally gained control again and looked around for something strong with the limited space she had to lift her head.

“There are cinder blocks in the rubble, two of them are not touching anything. Will those work Mister?”

“Sorry lass, my name is Jamie, and those might hold this wall up long enough for me to scoot free of it. Can you move one, can you reach it?”

Claire could move the block slowly by stretching her arm until it hurt. Little by little she scooted the cinder block closer to the wall, muttering about a decapitated Arnold and she didn’t want to be alone. Jamie patiently calmed her reminding her to breathe deeply. He helped her push the block under the section of wall and patted her shoulder, thanking her for being so brave. Claire felt the man’s body scooting slowly, taking her with him an inch at a time until he was free of the would-be guillotine.

Jamie laid very still, trying to calm his racing heart. He could see what Claire could not and knew they were buried by at least twenty or thirty feet of debris. It would take hours for rescuers to find them if they ever did. Shafts of light were coming through, but those would disappear when the sun went down leaving them in complete darkness. Jamie felt a murderous rage boiling in his stomach.

“You fucking bastard,” was whispered through clenched teeth. “I will hunt you right into hell before I give up.”

“Who’s a bastard, who will you hunt, who’s going to hell?”

Claire was patting his arm trying to comfort the rage she felt in his tensed muscles. It scared her because she didn’t know this man. Jamie’s arms encircled her lightly for a few seconds.

“He’s called Casper and he’s a dead man walking because I’m gonna finish him when I find him.”

“Casper? The art thief did this?”

Claire got very quiet for a few minutes before asking, “who are you?”

“Jamie Fraser. I head up the task force trying to catch that piece of shit. Just so you know, we are getting out of here, one way or another, because I won’t let him win.”

He felt Claire shaking and heard her sniffling. He held her, feeling bad because he scared her. He lifted his head to look at her.

“I’m sorry lass, I didn’t mean to scare you. Look at me, Claire.”

Jamie wasn’t expecting the large whisky colored eyes and long black lashes wet from her tears. Her face stole his words for a moment, so he just looked at her. He wanted to touch her porcelain skin and feel the coils of curls that had fallen around her face and shoulders.

“I’m sorry Sassenach, rest now. It won’t be long.”

“Sassenach means crazy bitch, doesn’t it?”

Jamie laughed and Claire bounced on his stomach until she smiled too. “No. It means outsider. You’re a Brit, living in America, trapped in Paris, with a Scott,” he said laughing. He laid his head back down, “tell me about yourself, are you married? Any kids?”

“There is an offer on the table, but I haven’t decided yet. I like him fine but he’s a politician and I’m …not.”

“Tell me more. Why hesitate?”

Claire talked about the senator from Illinois who said he loved her and promised a life of excitement and purpose. Jamie listened to the story of two mismatched people and hoped she would choose herself over a man with plans to change everything about her. She couldn’t see that yet but to him, it was very clear.

“What about you when you’re not chasing a master criminal around the world?”

“I cannot say, it’s been too long. I asked a beautiful girl to marry me once and she said yes but she died in an automobile wreck before the wedding. I haven’t dated since then, about two years now.”

“I’m sorry for your loss Jamie, and if it hurts you, I’m sorry to bring it up.”

“I have never been to Chicago, what is it like?”

The conversation was interesting as they took turns asking questions about the other. Jamie was waiting for some sign, pounding, or yelling, that would indicate workers were close. He heard nothing so far and the light was fading in their rubble pocket. He prayed the night would not be terrifying to the woman on top of him.

“Can you sleep, Claire? I think you should try, it will make the time pass faster. Close your eyes and think about something you do at home for fun, breathe deep, that’s a good lass.”

Jamie could hear Claire’s breathing deepen into her slumber and he closed his eyes hoping to join her. He had a feeling it would be a long night.

Senator Randall was startled by a tap on his shoulder and a note passed to him by his aide. It said Doctor Beauchamp had not gotten off her plane from Paris and was not answering her phone. Frank nodded to the aide and gathered his papers into a case leaving the meeting as quietly as possible. He was calling Claire when the door closed behind him. No answer. Claire was reliable, punctual, predictable, and always called when her plans changed. He felt a nervous twitch in his stomach as his phone vibrated continuously with messages delayed while his phone was turned off. He read through the text messages quickly and was jogging to find his driver and get back to his office.

Claire’s secretary and friend had bombed his phone about an explosion at Sotheby’s, part of the building collapsed, and Claire had not boarded her plane. Frank was feeling a surge of anxiety that was quite unfamiliar and unwanted. He kept his life sterile and empty of drama so he could pursue what made him happy, successful, and energized. He barked at the driver to find a way out of the traffic and back to his office. He couldn’t wait. The laptop lid flipped open and Frank searched for news of the Sotheby bombing. It was all over the internet and the pictures of the damage almost stopped his heart. He started dialing for his aides, giving orders to find her, book a flight to Paris tonight, and get him an emergency number for who was in charge at the auction house. He walked briskly to his office followed by jogging aides handing him notes with flight times, and phone numbers.

“Hello”

“Thank God! Jesus yer hard to find Frank. Ye know whats happened at Sotheby’s. Claire didn’t check-in at the airport, she didn’t return her rental or check out of the hotel. I’m sorry Frank, she is unaccounted for and …”

Frank clicked off of the call when Geillis was mid-sentence. He couldn’t deal with her at the moment, and punched in the numbers to Sotheby’s but couldn’t get through. He assigned two aids to keep calling the emergency number until one of them got a person on the phone.

The sixty-inch television in his office was streaming news of the explosion and the missing Rembrandt painting that was discovered. The explosion was reported as a possible diversion so the thief could get away. One of the aides held her phone out.

“Senator Bradley, sir. He says you won’t answer your own phone and he needs to speak with you.”

“Hello, yes, no I can’t meet tonight, I’m flying to Paris, my girl…” Pausing to listen, “sorry Gary, I can’t, it’s an emergency. No, I won’t be voting tomorrow, I have an emergency, I have to …”

Senator Bradley could be heard from across the room making the aides press into the farthest point in the office to complete their tasks. Frank drew his arm back to throw the phone into the wall and someone shrieked and grabbed her phone away from him. It might cost her job, but this was her brand-new iPhone and no cranky senator was going to smash it to pieces. She headed for the door and disappeared.

“It’s the manager at Sotheby’s, sir. Please don’t break my phone.”

Frank dropped into his chair and reported the news of his missing fiancé, Doctor Claire Beauchamp from the University of Chicago. The manager wanted the name of her rental car company, hotel, and time of day she was last heard from. Frank gave him Geillis’s cell phone number adding she would be the point of contact. Tomorrow would be a ball-breaker and he needed someone attached to their phone in case any news came in.

Hours later, Frank laid in bed in the dark and thought about Claire. So many hours after the explosion and no word from her. He didn’t want to believe it but found little hope she was alive. He closed his eyes.

Claire was shifting her weight trying to get comfortable on the lumpiest mattress ever made. When she moved to her side Jamie’s eyes slammed opened and he groaned loudly from her hip crushing his balls. He lifted her hip and moved her over three inches letting his hands rest on her hip and leg. The dress she wore was knit and very soft. It had pulled up above her knee so Jamie pulled it back down.

He didn’t know Claire, and would never see her again once they were free, but he did not like hearing about her fiancé and that made him feel weird. He closed his eyes again.

“Jesus Christ! What is that?”

Jamie was yanked to the surface of consciousness by a loud and panicked voice coming from a wiggling woman trying to move up his body. His arms came around her and he shushed her, asking what was wrong.

“Something crawled up my leg and it had sharp claws, small sharp claws. I need to sit on your chest.”

Jamie grunted and held her still while he talked her down from another panic. He had worried about rats in the building being attracted to their smell. He told Claire to breathe with him while he stroked her hair in the pitch darkness. She had wiggled up toward his head and now her cheek was pressed against his, her mouth only inches from his. He could feel her relaxing and truly hoped for no more surprises tonight. He fell asleep with his arms around Claire.

Jamie opened his eyes when the noise of pounding pulled him back to consciousness. He felt Claire pressed against him, their faces touching, and the morning erection that threatened what little dignity he had left. He willed it away, quite unsuccessfully. The banging started again and he smiled to himself, it won’t be long before they are back on their feet, he thought. The pounding gave way to ripping metal and the distinct sound of a backhoe.

Claire moaned and moved to her stomach, rolling her face so her mouth was smashed against Jamie’s. He didn’t want to breathe for fear she would wake up and take her lips away. The noise from moving heavy debris got louder and the light from the new day flooded their pocket. Claire opened her eyes and screamed, pushing away from Jamie and hitting her head hard.

“What the bloody hell!”

“I’ll have you know madam that you accosted me just now, taking advantage of my inability to move and get away. This assault comes after you nearly strangled me getting away from a mouse.”

Claire rubbed her head and looked at the most beautiful face she had ever seen on a man. He could be a movie star with looks like that, she thought. Jamie was trying to look indignant but started to chuckle when her mouth turned into a smile. She looked adorable with a mass of curls pouring over her face as she felt for a bump on her head.

“Do you need me to rub it for you?”

The laugh that followed was genuine, feminine, and he loved hearing it.

“I’ll let you know if I want you to rub it.”

She laid her head on his chest and listened to the cavalry above them. “Sounds like they are making progress Jamie. I think you will soon be free of me.”

“Let’s hope it’s before I die of dehydration. I have never felt thirst like this in my life.”

With nothing to do but wait for the rescuers, they dozed and tried not to move too much. Through the early morning, the efforts above them intensified. The crew boss called a halt to the noise so they could get a radar fix on the heartbeats again. The radar technician moved his finger in a circle above their location and the infrared tech nodded his agreement. The noise continued.

“Jamie?”

“Yes, Sassenach.”

“What is the first thing you want to do when we’re rescued?”

“Drink like an elephant.”

“How is that?”

“Someone hands them a hose and they use their trunk to place it in their mouth. An hour or so later, the elephant pulls it out.”

“I’m quite sure you made that up but it’s still funny.”

“It’s God’s truth, I swear. Next, I will jump into the hotel pool until my body temperature comes back to normal. You laying on me is like a giant quilt heating me through for the last twenty hours or so. What about you Sassenach?”

“I’m down for the elephant thing, and a bubble bath, while I pray there are no flights to Chicago today. I want to lose myself in the Louvre.”

“Your list is impressive but surely a phone call to the senator will be done first, even before you put the hose in your mouth?”

Claire was giggling at Jamie’s charm, “of course, the senator, and then the hose.”

“Your dress is so soft, I woke up petting it like a rabbit in the middle of the night.” Jamie ran his hands down her back for effect and then instantly dropped them to his sides while Claire laughed. He just wanted to make her laugh until they took her away from him forever.

“Don’t move Sassenach!”

“Why? Is something crawling on me?”

Jamie grunted when her knee made contact with his balls as she twisted to look for a bug, or worse.

“No, it’s a phone call is all.”

Jamie reached up and pulled a phone to his ear. He spoke to the rescue worker and described how they were trapped. The phone was then pulled upward through the remaining debris until it was out of sight.

“Wow, how do they know exactly where we are?”

Jamie watched her childlike wonder and smiled at her until the dangling section of wall that had been directly above his throat dropped onto the cinder block making a deafening noise. Claire screamed and held onto Jamie tightly. She buried her face in his chest and cried until he could calm her down again. Claire felt his hand stroking her hair, and his arm around her waist. It was so foreign to be held this way and she didn’t want it to stop but could not force more tears, so he let her go. Jamie smiled encouragingly at her and pointed to the crushed cinder block.

“You see, you saved my life. That means you’re responsible for me forever.”

“Wait. If I saved you, that means you owe me a life, I think.”

“Anybody’s life?”

“I’m not quite sure about that. Maybe it’s like a debt that is paid by saving my life.”

Jamie took a chance and twisted his body and hers until they were lying side by side looking at the other.

“I don’t imagine a professor of fine arts and future first lady of the United States finds her life in peril much. But if you did, I will be the first one there Claire.”

She looked so innocent and beautiful looking at him. He seized her mouth and gorged himself on the beautiful professor. She turned her head for better access to his lips and he felt the exhilaration of her interest, however brief it would be. Aside from inhalation, the kiss continued until a large section that had them pinned was ripped away.

Claire sat up smiling at the men that surrounded them about ten feet up. She waved and stretched her back. A harness was lowered, held still by the men until she was safely in it. She pulled her briefcase strap over her head and was lifted through the debris to safety. Jamie watched her legs until she was pulled from his view.

Jamie looked up at the men, “any of the art stolen yesterday?”

“One small painting is all,” said with a heavy accent.

His stomach suddenly felt like a rock grinder. He asked the man, “quelle peinture?” The man shrugged his shoulders and looked around at the other workers until someone yelled “Rembrandt”. The sling was lowered again and Jamie was tempted to wrap it around his neck, but then Casper would win. He buckled himself into the harness.

Claire was loaded into an ambulance and whisked off to the nearest hospital. She gripped her briefcase and tried to calm her sense of shock at being thrust back into normality and away from Jamie. The EMT bent the straw top of a bottle of water and placed it in her mouth. She pulled the cool water into her mouth and thought about the elephants.

Claire was released by nine in the morning and now sat on her hotel bed with the phone in her hand.

“Sweet heavens, I am glad to talk to ye Claire, I haven’t slept a wink!”

“You are such a good friend Geillis. I tried to call Frank but his phone is off. Is he on his way to Paris?”

“No, he tried to leave last night but there’s an important vote today, it couldn’t be missed. What do ye need me to do? I already checked flights and they are booked today and tomorrow, even first class. I booked ye on United, leaving Paris at ten in the morning on Friday. All your appointments are canceled because ye were missin from a building that was bombed and I dinna ken if you were dead or alive.”

Geillis sobbed through the last part of the sentence and continued to cry until Claire calmed her down.

“I have quite the war story from the experience. I spent almost twenty-four hours laying on top of a giant Scot with a gorgeous face and bulging muscles.”

Claire giggled at Geillis’s reaction, knowing her friend would find that part of the tragedy delicious. After the call, Claire pulled her filthy clothes off and dropped them in the wastebasket. Flipping the security bar on the door meant she would be undisturbed while she scrubbed the dirt away. Sinking into the hot fragrant bubbles, she exhaled and thought about the rest of her day. She would meet with her client later and conclude their business and then tomorrow was all for her. The silver-lining as it were.

The exquisite bed in Claire’s room was so expansive one might miss the 8x12 inch Rembrandt in the center. Soon it would be handed over to the client in exchange for a deed to an Italian property valued at three million dollars. All in a day’s work.

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blogdemocratesjr · 4 years ago

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El árbol de la vida by Leonora Carrington (Great zoom function at Sotheby's)

On Ahriman, Lucifer & Political Parties

No abstractions exist in the spiritual world above, only beings. Yet, political parties are rooted in abstraction. Above, one cannot profess adherence to a party program; there one can only be a follower of this or that being or hierarchy. There one cannot just subscribe to a program on the basis of the intellect; that cannot happen there. One must belong with one's whole being to another entity. What is abstract down here is being above; that is, the abstract below is only the shadow of beingness above. If you consider the two main categories of parties, the liberal and conservative, you know that each has its own program. When you look above to see what each is a reflection of, then you discover that ahrimanic being is projected here (see drawing, lower part) into the conservative views, luciferic being in the liberal thoughts. Down here, one follows a liberal or conservative program; up there, one is a follower of an ahrimanic or a luciferic being of some hierarchy. … The whole manner in which the concepts and images of this Jesus, of Christ, fill such a person's soul indicates that it is merely the name of Jesus, the Christ, that he has in mind. Actually he is a follower of either Lucifer or Ahriman, but calls whichever it is by the name of Jesus or Christ. … We shall begin to ascend to realities when we stop talking about right or wrong and begin speaking about healthy or sick. We begin to rise to realities when we cease talking about programs of parties or world views, and instead speak about following real beings whom we encounter as soon as we become aware of what exists on yonder side of the threshold. It must be our concern today actually to take that serious step that leads from abstraction to reality, from merely logical knowledge to knowledge as deed. This alone can lead us out of the chaos now gripping the world.

—Rudolf Steiner, Spiritual Science as a Foundation for Social Forms: Lecture I

#Leonora Carrington #politics #conservative #liberal #Ahriman #Lucifer #spiritual science #anthroposophy

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chvmberlain · 5 years ago

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𝒉𝒐𝒘 𝒕𝒆𝒓𝒓𝒊𝒃𝒍𝒆 𝒊𝒕 𝒊𝒔 𝒕𝒐 𝒍𝒐𝒗𝒆 𝒔𝒐𝒎𝒆𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒅𝒆𝒂𝒕𝒉 𝒄𝒂𝒏 𝒕𝒐𝒖𝒄𝒉.

q —

you’re an asshole.

you promised me, you know. you promised me a 21st birthday to rival our 18th in madrid; you promised me to embarrass the hell out of whatever poor, unfortunate significant other i dragged home one day; you promised me we’d walk carina down the aisle together. i’ll never forgive you for that one.

you promised you’d read to me when we got home that night. cien años de soledad was on my nightstand waiting for us. i still haven’t picked up where we left off. it’s been seven years and i barely even remember the plot anymore, but i can’t bring myself to finish without you. it just doesn’t feel right.

i’ve been searching for that ugly ass jackson pollock painting mamá used to keep in your room. she’s such a pain in the ass — it’s one of the obscure ones, and she sold it off the second they cleared out your room. i can’t tell you how many times the sotheby’s agent has called me to tell me they’ve finally found it — they never have. i can picture it clear as fucking day, q. we all used to pile on your bed and roll our eyes at that stupid painting. sixteen year old me would laugh in my face if he saw how fucked up i am over it.

then again, if he knew the context, i think that’d be the least of his concerns. he’d be more worried about the time he has left with you. the days slipped away from me as easily as anything, and i never thought for a moment how numbered they’d be. i should’ve been more careful about the time i had left with you.

nineteen years isn’t enough. you could’ve lived six lifetimes and i’d never be satisfied; you had enough energy in the mornings that you never touched a drop of espresso a day in your life. what kind of person is like that? jesus christ. you were the fucking energizer bunny, q. you could’ve lasted a millennium on that kind of power.

sometimes i think to myself that it should’ve been me instead. more often than i’ll admit to anyone else — but you’re a dead man, so what will you do? tell on me? you would never. it should’ve been me, quincy. carina’s going to be a damn lawyer, you were supposed to change the world with your do-gooder heart; what am i doing here other than slowly drinking myself to death and tangling myself in something that will almost certainly land me in jail? mamá y papá would be ashamed of me. not that that’s much different than usual, but it still hurts to think about. would you be proud of me, q? i don’t think carina is, but we haven’t spoken in years. i’m terrified to pick up the phone, but i miss her so fucking much. i miss you so fucking much. i don’t know if it’s supposed to get easier, but i sure as hell hope it does. i can’t take living like this forever. i feel like i’m missing a limb.

do you see us, wherever you are? do you laugh, cry, love, all just the same as when you were alive and here with me? i like to imagine you on a grassy hill somewhere. the sun is warm, the breeze is gentle, and you’ve got a picnic basket full of jamón, manchego, y cava. i like to think it’s nice there. i like to think you look down and laugh: carina’s up to her elbows in dusty law books and tweed; i spend most of my time stealing the sort of things our parents use to decorate their summer home. couldn’t make this shit up if i tried. i’m still not sure if you’d be proud of me, but i do think you’d like it, q.

i woke up the other day and i couldn’t remember your smile. i had to look through my photos until i found an old photo of you, probably laughing at some stupid face i was making behind the camera — i don’t ever want to forget again, so i’m trying something new. when i think of you, i think of the ratty t shirt you always insisted on wearing. the way you talked with your hands. reading to me over skype ‘cause you decided to go to fucking princeton instead of yale with me, you prick. i think of the curve of your smile, fresh in my mind again, and the way you threw your head back when you laughed, loud and full and unashamed. i won’t forget again, q. i promise.

te quiero. ya lo sabes, pero te quiero tanto, tio. hasta el fin del mundo. te echo de menos.

con cariño, — m

#heisttask01 #━━ ❛ task.#it’s sad boy hours #yes mine ALSO says dear brother it's called THE DUALITY OF MAN #also Yes carina is Also in the graphic but just let it happen

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theeurasianpost · 3 years ago

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Two rare studies of Leonardo da Vinci's 'The Last Supper' will be sold in London auction

Two rare studies of Leonardo da Vinci’s ‘The Last Supper’ will be sold in London auction

Written by Jacqui Palumbo, CNN Two chalk and pastel studies of Leonardo da Vinci’s “The Last Supper” that once belonged to a 19th-century Dutch king will be up for auction next month. The portraits of the heads of St. John the Evangelist and St. James, who are each sat to the left of Jesus Christ in the famed fresco in Milan, are part of a Sotheby’s London sale on July 6 dedicated to master…

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#Featured #Featured2 #WorldFeatured

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zeamex · 3 years ago

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Two rare studies of Leonardo da Vinci's 'The Last Supper' will be sold in London auction

Two rare studies of Leonardo da Vinci’s ‘The Last Supper’ will be sold in London auction

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xtruss · 3 years ago

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Botticelli Reaps $45.4 Million in Rare Sale at Sotheby’s in NYC! The Painting by the Renaissance Master Depicts a Tearful Jesus Christ.

Auction house employees holding Sandro Botticelli’s The Man of Sorrows. Source: Sotheby's

— By James Tarmy | January 27, 2022 | Bloomberg

A painting by the Renaissance artist Sandro Botticelli sold at Sotheby’s New York on Thursday for $45.4 million as part of the Master Paintings and Sculpture sale.

The work, which dates from about 1500 and is titled The Man of Sorrows, depicts a bereaved and beleaguered Jesus Christ, and carried an unofficial presale estimate “in excess of” $40 million. It is housed in a fittingly elaborate frame, which Sotheby’s says is likely from the 19th century.

The lot was guaranteed, meaning it had effectively already sold for an undisclosed base price; the only question, going into the auction, was if bidders would push it even higher.

A closer view of Sandro Botticelli's "The Man of Sorrows." Credit: Courtesy Sotheby's

The work carried a presale estimate “in excess of $40 million.” Source: Sotheby's

“Botticelli is a name that everyone knows,” says Christopher Apostle, head of Sotheby’s old master paintings department in New York. “The joke in our department is: he’s not a Ninja Turtle, but he’s pretty close.” (For anyone not raised on cartoons, the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles were named after famous Renaissance artists.)

“So when we were pricing it,” Apostle continues, “we understood it was a major picture by a major artist, and that that artist’s major works don’t come to auction that often. The power of this image has a crossover appeal to someone who’s not a traditional old master buyer, and that warranted a pretty serious estimate.”

Botticelli vs. Botticelli

While a $45.4 million total is certainly nothing to sneer at, comparisons between this painting and Young Man Holding a Roundel, another Botticelli that sold for $92.2 million almost exactly one year ago, are inevitable. Last year’s Botticelli set a public sales record for the artist, whose previous record was just $10.4 million.

Botticelli’s Young Man Holding a Roundel sold for $92.2 million last January.Photographer: Tolga Akman/AFP

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jean-diegomejia · 4 years ago

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Semiotic Analysis

Alexander Kosolapov’s painting My Blood is quite the controversial artwork stirring vandalization of the artist’s exhibitions by angry protestors against it. The artwork itself is fairly simple: Jesus Christ with the Coca-Cola logo in the background and a text saying, “This is my blood”. The initial meaning when looking at the painting is metaphorical, in the sense that the viewer would believe that This is my blood refers to the Christ having Coca-Cola as his blood. Kosolapov compares blood running in human’s veins, and that happens to be essential to life, to a soda drink chemically made that is often considered poison. At first there doesn’t seem to be any similarities between the two but there may be some when taking into account the artist’s intentions.

The signs present is the painting aren’t many but they each hold a lot of importance to communicate the meaning of Kosolapov’s artwork. First of all, there is the portrait of Christ who obviously represents a religious ideology or religious concept. Secondly, there is the Coca-Cola logo in the background. What it is supposed to represent is not evident, but it could refer to capitalism or perhaps consumerism. Finally, there is the text This is my Blood which most likely acts as the connection between the portrait of Christ and the Coca-Cola logo. The text also seems to give the main significance to the overall image. In my opinion, This is my Blood is the most important sign out of the three as it is what defines the overall meaning of the painting and the source of divisive reactions.

Using Saussure’s method of signifier + signified = sign, we can consider the “signs” mentioned before to be the signifiers: the portrait of Christ, the Coca-Cola logo and the text This is my Blood. Based on these signifiers, the signified that comes across is that the Coca-Cola logo refers to capitalism or consumerism and its influence it has over our culture and society as well as the power the mega corporate behind the product has. Then the portrait of Christ refers to religion and its influence on society. With that in mind, put together the meaning can be interpreted as these giant cultural icons that saturate cultures and the ideologies, whether good or bad, come from it. A quick look at our societies confirms the objective aspect of the message communicated by the artwork but it is at the same time very subjective since the opinion on the meaning changes easily from different experiences.

Based on my analysis, Kosolapov’s painting very well conveys its message. He meant to touch a controversial and taboo subject and even to critique it and succeeded in doing so with heavy responses over the artwork and the intentions behind it. The icons used in the painting are recognized pretty much world-wide and so people can relate and understand the artworks message.

· Kosolapov, Alexander. Sothebys, 2006, www.sothebys.com/en/auctions/ecatalogue/2006/russian-art-n08182/lot.159.html.

#semiotic analysis

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pirategoldcoins-blog · 7 years ago

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PirateGoldCoins.com

Offered at: $175,000

1715 FLEET GOLD & CORAL ROSARY w/ CRUCIFIX PIRATE TREASURE MEL FISHER ATOCHA Mel Fisher's crew (known best for both the Atocha & 1715 FLEET Treasure Hunters), top Archeologist “James Sinclair” COA (Certificate of Authenticity) and Leah Miguel, who also did Appraisal (see enclosed) for $150,000 back 21 YEARS AGO!!! Leah was mentored by curators from both Sotheby’s (in London) and Christie’s of NY (see attached appraisal). James Sinclair was also the Archeologist on the recent History Channel show “Cooper’s Treasure.” He was on the last episode in 2017 when they found “Christopher Columbus’ Anchor” in the Turks – Cacaos (yes literally Christopher Columbus’ anchor from original voyage (Nina, Pinta & Santa Maria). We’ve also posted a Video showing the discovery of this very Rosary enclosed in the “Golden Box,” along with some Gold / Gemstone Rings (Travel Channel 2003), story below.

This completely intact Rosary is 34” long and weighs approx. 61gm, it’s made up of 53 (5mm) spherical Coral Beads (known at the time as “5 decades of Coral beads”) and 5 (7mm) GOLD spherical Beads, at the point where it meets, drops down to 1 Golden and 3 Coral beads, is a PURE GOLD CRUCIFIX with the raised body of JESUS CHRIST (2” x 1 3/16”). It was discovered near Wabasso, FL (near Turtle Trail) by Mike Maguire (as seen in Travel Channel episode). This Rosary is Religious Jewel. It was believed that Red Coral was a popular constituent and protected against magic spells, going back to Greek mythology, they gave red coral’s it’s origin as “the spurts of Blood that gushed forth when Medusa’s head was cut off by Perseus.” These Rosaries were very popular with SPANISH ROYALS (such as QUEEN JOANNA (JUANA LA LOCA) and were highly prized by Royalty! This VERY ROSARY could very well have been destined for the New Queen (Elizabeth Farnese) King Phiiip’s (V) new Queen, as Philip need a new Queen’s Dowry, required by Elizabeth in order to Consummate the Marriage. Obviously these jewels never made it, but she married him irregardless and provided 7 children (see below for complete 1715 FLEET historical summary). Of course much of the Gold and jewels on these Fleets also belonged to the Church, so this piece may very well have belonged to a Priest or Bishop and or even the Church itself. However, it should be noted much of the “Queen’s Jewel’s” (incredible diamond brooches and earrings) have been recovered near this same area of the Golden Box & Rosary (and rings).

There are known to be perhaps 3 or 4 alike Rosary from the 1715 FLEET in total. However, this is “THE” Only Rosary we can confirm was literally discovered in a GOLD BOX and therefore the Coral beads are NOT oxidized and corroded with barnacles (as the others seem to be), one of which has even been graffitied on the Crucifix, leaving this Very piece to be in the BEST CONDITION our research has uncovered. This piece is similar to the Rosary sold by Christie’s 1988 auction (lot 155), where it sold for $154,000.00

#rosary #queensjewels #queenjewelry #queenrosary #fleetshipwreck #artifact #rareartifacts #shipwreckartifacts #treasure #piratetreasure #piecesofeight #escudos #doubloons #atocha #atochagold #atochacoins #pirate #pirategold #pirategoldcoins

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dopescotlandwarrior · 5 years ago

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Sinners & Saints-Chapter 3

A special thank you to @statell the best beta ever

Previous chapters at AO3

Chapter Three

Claire strained to get the bodysuit up her arm and over her shoulder. She had been at this for thirty minutes and had one more arm to go. She felt sweat roll down from her temple and grunted the rest of the way into the bodysuit that instantly made her morbidly obese. She pulled her fat clothes on and stuffed her hair into a shag wig that layered hair against her cheeks and forehead. Blue contacts were centered in her eyes and she was ready.

Jamie addressed his team at breakfast, giving last-minute positions and handing out the castle floor plan.

“There is a ten thousand pound bonus to the man that catches Casper in the act. Let me know where he is and stay with him. I only need three minutes with the man then you can arrest him. He has this coming.”

Claire came in through the air shaft and looked through the grate . It appeared to be someone’s office and it was empty. She popped the grate off, preventing it from bouncing on the hardwood floor. Cracking the door, she rushed out when the hall was empty and joined the other handlers unpacking the treasures. The statue was a foot away from where she was working and when she scooted her bulky body around the display, blocking the camera, the statue disappeared for just a moment, and then it was back. It was time to go.

She told her partner, “I gotta take a shit, right back.” When she walked briskly around the corner, she felt the air get sucked out of her lungs and instantly changed direction. James Fraser was walking directly for her, fortunately with his head down. She needed to get out of the castle before someone recognized the statue was a fake. She started running from room to room looking for a way out. She ran through a kitchen and saw a delivery truck behind the castle and the door standing open. She leaned forward to make a run for the door but jumped back into a pantry when Jamie’s voice was coming toward her. Struggling to quiet her breathing she could see his outline through the vent in the door. He was less than a foot away and she could smell his aftershave. Jamie spoke into his walkie and assembled his team in the exhibit hall.

Jamie looked down at one of the handlers.

“The fat girl said she was going to the lu and never came back. I didn’t see her scan out. Just letting you know.”

Jamie and his men spread out and searched the castle for a fat girl looking for a bathroom. This waste of time was irritating. He wasn’t here to manage the handlers or look for a girl with a gastric issue today. His walkie crackled.

“Ah, we have an issue in the exhibit. One of the pieces has been replaced with a fake.”

Once Jamie was out of the kitchen, Claire made a run for the door praying she wouldn’t be seen and pushed her long legs as fast as they would go. She headed for the woods and cover, trying to get her direction so she could find her car.

People in the castle were shouting and running outside to look in every direction and then back in. They discovered the fake statue and if she didn’t get very lucky in the next few minutes Jamie Fraser would finally catch Casper. She said a Hail Mary and chose a direction. Five minutes later she ran right into her rental car.

“Christ almighty, thank God.” The little green bug was pushed to its limit and came bursting out of the woods at the bottom of the hill the castle was built on. It was dangerous and terrifying to race the little car through the woods, but she would not be seen getting back on the road this way. Claire was panting from fear and heat as she flew down the road in her rented bug. She parked behind the hotel and took the service elevator to her room, ripping her bodysuit off as she came through the door. She reached into a hollowed-out pocket in the fat abdomen and pulled out the statue. She might have the hounds of hell coming down on her, but she took a minute to admire the ancient artifact before rolling it into lambswool and placing it in a fake two-liter soda bottle.

Claire checked out of the hotel by phone and headed to a toy store to buy an assortment of toddler toys that she ripped open and dropped into her carry-on. The toys would act like a cushion for the statue after she got it through the x-ray scanner. To do that, she wrapped the statue in carbon paper and affixed it to the bottom of her bag. A sheet of Teflon was laid over it and glued down to the case. When the glue was dry she piled the toys on top.

She raced to the airport and dropped off her rental car then headed for the terminal. She had no idea if the X-ray scanner would pick up the gold statue. If it did, she would be caught and her life would be over. She placed her carry on in the bin and waited at the other side almost fainting with relief when it popped out of the scanner and rolled toward her. Her legs could hardly hold her up as she walked away. Sticking her hand in the bag she pulled at the Teflon until it ripped away. The carbon paper was next and she balled the material up and pushed it into a waste receptacle. Now If her bag was inspected, the statue was just another toy.

Claire requested stand-by, first available flight to Paris, and was told to board flight 312. The woman pointed to the gate that was a brisk walk away and Claire boarded gratefully. When the plane lifted into the air, she allowed herself to exhale and relax. She pulled her phone out and sent a text to Javier. ..’Coming for spaghetti dinner, extra meatballs on mine. Landing 1h10m.’

Javier looked at the text and couldn’t believe it. The code was set between them five years ago and never used. Spaghetti dinner meant, I’m in trouble and coming in hot. Extra meatballs meant go dark, get off the grid.

“Gentlemen, cell phones off, batteries out, this is not a drill. Joseph, the Bear lands in forty minutes, find her.”

Claire pounded two shots of whisky and closed her eyes so she could think. What the hell was Jamie Fraser and his team doing at the castle, today of all days. He would not go there unless someone tipped him off and that thought was terrifying. Forty-five minutes of considering every conclusion to this horrific situation and she was coming undone. Were they waiting at the terminal to arrest her? Had Javier already been arrested? She felt the plane descending and saw the green earth beneath them. Hold on to your sanity, she told herself, you’re almost home.

Claire was very protected by Javier. She would hand off the stolen piece to one of his men, usually within the hour of her possession, and leave the country clean. This was the first time she boarded a plane with the evidence that would convict her, and she was completely unnerved by the experience. Someone was assigned to take the statue in Germany, but she didn’t trust anyone at the moment.

Joseph weaved through traffic at the airport and finally saw Claire walking briskly away from the terminal. He pulled up to the curb and she jumped a foot off the walkway. Not a word was spoken during the ride back and Joseph pulled into the lower garage at the mansion so Claire wouldn’t be seen. Javier was waiting for her and pulled her to his office.

Javier waited while Claire caught her breath. “When was your last sweep in here?”

My darling Bear, spaghetti and meatballs is not a dish quickly eaten. One moment, I will get you a cocktail. One of the men came into the office and swept it for bugs, leaving quickly shaking his head no.

“You may speak freely.”

“What are the odds of James Fraser and his team showing up at a German castle for the Pharaoh exhibit, today? With the statue in my possession, I nearly ran right into him. What reason would he have to be there? Why was his whole team at Sotheby’s two months ago?” Claire put her hand up and exhaled loudly. “He ranted from anger when we were stuck in the rubble. He got control of himself but not before saying his black market snitch told him the Rembrandt would be in play.”

Javier waited for Claire to get it all out. He almost lost it when her eyes filled with tears and her chin quivered as she pushed back on her fear.

“Javier, someone close to you is passing information to Jamie, or the police, and he is hearing it from them. All your men know who I am so I must assume James Fraser knows the true identity of Casper. Jesus Christ, the time he spent with me in Paris, why not arrest me right there? He needs to catch me in the act or risk losing his case to good lawyers is why. You have a rat in your house Javier and he nearly cost me the next twenty years of freedom.”

Javier leaned back in his chair with an expression rarely seen. It was murderous.

“It would seem so. Have a bath and some food and rest a bit. It will not be quick to catch this rat so you must be a teacher for a while until I can catch him. Okay?”

Claire nodded and made her way upstairs leaving the statue on Javier’s desk. She was completely exhausted and confused about Jamie Fraser. Had he known her identity from the start? If so, he was very good at hiding his hand, she never suspected a thing. The smell and serenity of her room were the last straw holding her together, so she sank into the familiar covers and cried.

Claire stayed with Javier for a week before she felt brave enough to board a plane to Chicago. She was out of the thieving business for the foreseeable future, possibly a year Javier said. He tried to convince her to quit but she wasn’t ready. On her trip back to Chicago, she considered the fortune she had amassed in real estate, gold, art, and more stock than she could remember. It was more money than she could spend in a lifetime so why risk everything on the next coveted piece? Her eyelids closed and she slept all the way home.

Frank laughed at the jokes and slammed his shot with the others, smiling at his growing euphoria. He looked around the room and saw shadow people in various sexual positions. It was arousing as hell and he absently grabbed his balls.

A gorgeous girl smiled and pulled on his arm, “common big guy, I think you’re ready.”

He was led into a smaller room with a bed and the woman was taking his belt off and pulling out his dick. Throughout the night the girl would morph from an adult to a very young girl and then back again. He didn’t care as long as she kept it up.

For the rest of the weekend, Frank consumed three roofies dropped in his drink, had sex with women, men, boys and girls, and didn’t remember a thing when he stepped off the billionaire’s plane in Washington. This was his fourth trip to the island, and he looked forward to the next.

Later in the year, snow fell heavy in the Highlands and Jamie leaned against the barn and watched the fields turning white, a sight he never tired of. This year, he arrested five burgeoning art thieves, a counterfeiter, and shut down a major black market railway in Europe, but Casper eluded him still. He could not attribute a single theft to Casper in over a year and decided he had gone underground, but for how long? The men who recruited Jamie were putting pressure on him to make an arrest because someone had to be punished. It wasn’t enough that Casper wasn’t stealing art anymore. Jamie had a network of informants that had been full of information at one time and even they were disappearing or just stopped talking. He shook his head in disgust and went into the house to pack for Paris. He would be there for the week, maybe more, to add another five agents to his team. It was his first time back since the explosion as Sotheby's.

Claire walked quickly through the townhouse throwing items in her suitcase while Frank followed her like a complaining puppy. She couldn’t take it anymore and stopped abruptly feeling Frank bump into her back.

“Frank, I have hardly seen you this year. I agreed to the lecture four months ago and a new DaVinci has turned up in a French basement that I have got to examine. I will be home on Christmas day so why don’t you go see your parents while I’m gone?”

God the man was irritating, she stormed in her head. He wanted to direct her every move, dictate her social schedule, and preapprove her trips and lecture schedule. Now he wants a wedding planned for five hundred people. She wasn’t sure she even liked him anymore. The door closed on Frank Randall’s face because he was making her late. Claire was fuming as she finished packing and stormed out of the bedroom saying goodbye like an afterthought.

Claire got in line to check into her hotel and called Javier to say she landed and would see him for dinner. Jamie was completing his transaction in the line next to Claire and walked the other direction to find his room. An hour later Claire walked across the lobby in a short black skirt, black heeled boots and an oversized sweater. She pulled her Maurizio Braschi cashmere coat around her and hailed a cab. She had not been back to Paris since the ill-fated Germany job, her last job, and she was so excited to see Javier.

Jamie sat through a security workshop and pinched his leg to stay awake. His on-again-off-again girlfriend, Laighaire, was bombing his phone, knowing he would be in meetings all day. Such a pretty girl, he thought, but when the holiday parties were over and there were no more gifts to get, she would be off again, looking for a man who was everything Jamie wasn’t, primarily present and accounted for. He smiled wryly and shook his head to wake up.

Joseph drove Claire back to her hotel after dinner and she gushed about the decorations and lights around the city. The minute he pulled away she was back outside to walk around and look at all the decorations. The temperature was a comfortable thirty-two degrees, so she kept walking.

Jamie stumbled out of the workshop bleary-eyed and needing to find some fresh air. He wrapped a scarf around his neck and headed for the door. His taxi dropped him at the hotel, and he headed out for a brisk walk before dinner.

He saw her sitting on a bench, her ponytail was long and rested on her shoulder. Her lips were pink frost and she smiled at the night. Just lovely, he thought. The woman stood and walked toward him, he kept looking until his feet stopped, and he froze. Impossible. As she got closer, Jamie’s smile was like a beacon and she searched his face.

“Jamie Fraser!”

She jumped into his outstretched arms and kissed his cheek. Jamie smelled her neck and had the same happy grin he had the first time. “God, you smell like heaven. Can you walk with me a bit, we need to catch up.”

They walked through Paris arm in arm for the next two hours, and as before, thoroughly enjoyed the company of the other. Claire was trying to get a signal that he knew she was Casper and decided he was a fantastic liar, or he didn’t know. When they had a nightcap in the hotel bar, she looked in his eyes and asked if he had caught Casper yet. All she saw was sincere sadness and he shook his head no.

“No, lass. Casper went dark a year ago. He retired, or he’s dead, neither work in my favor. I think the team will be disbanded and I,” his eyes looked haunted for a moment, “will be reassigned if I can’t catch him in the next six months.”

Jamie shook his head, “let’s talk about something more pleasant.” He leaned over and kissed her cheek.

Claire told Jamie about the changes in Frank, his estrangement, and her decision to follow her own path and then she leaned over and kissed Jamie’s cheek.

“Well, it is fortuitous we landed in the same hotel and I hope to spend more time with you while you’re here. Be a good lass and tell me when that will be.”

“Dinner, tomorrow?”

“Perfect, let me walk you home.”

At her door, he said goodnight and moved to kiss her cheek again but instead he held his head close to hers and then looked her in the eye. “Kiss me, Claire, like you did once before,” he whispered. Claire turned her head and kissed his mouth, sucking air at the intensity of the moment. Jamie gorged himself on her lips being careful not to take more than she wanted to give. He felt the key card in his hand and opened her door, kissing her inside, pulling is coat off and then hers. He broke the kiss and looked at the woman who haunted his dreams.

“Goodnight sweet Sassenach.”

Claire was startled at first but realized he felt her hesitation. She really liked Jamie, but he was an art cop and she, an art thief. One thing that was perfectly clear to her, she was done with Frank. The attributes that once attracted her were starting to crack and it was a deal-breaker for her. Besides, he never made her feel the electric current going through her body like Jamie did.

The next night, after a long day of lecture and appraisals, Claire swung the door open with an excited smile. She should be dead on her feet but spending time with Jamie tonight was exhilarating. She kissed him long and deep sending a message there would be no hesitation tonight.

They chatted throughout dinner and the silence was comfortable when they allowed themselves to stop talking and eat. Claire confessed her decision about Frank was partly due to how she felt with Jamie. He inched closer to her.

“Sassenach, is it wise to tell me such things? This lad is head over heels for you and now I know you’re free.” Claire giggled until he kissed her.

“Check please.”

Jamie grabbed her hand and helped her with her coat. “I have already paid Sassenach. Do you want to walk back?”

They stopped to kiss every other minute, so the block-long walk took thirty minutes. He kissed her in the elevator until she broke the kiss, “thirty minutes to call Javier and rinse off.” She walked briskly to her room and Jamie watched like a starving man.

The shower calmed her racing heart and she slipped into a satin nightgown that was very short and felt divine to touch. She knew seduction was the main event tonight and set candles all over the room, a purchase she made between appointments while a happy cab driver waited. Pulling her straightened hair into a ponytail and heard him knock.

Jamie brought champagne and fine chocolates and received the smile of approval from the object of his desire. He waited for her to put them in the frig and then pulled her to him, running his hand up her side and groaning at the feel of the fabric. He didn’t want to race to the bed, instead, he would see how high she wanted to go. He picked her up and sat on the couch with her across his lap. The kissing was slow and sensual as their bodies found their way to a comfortable position. They whispered in the other’s ear, smiled and kissed while their hands explored.

Jamie’s shirt was unbuttoned slowly and she helped him out of it kissing every inch she could reach. Jamie pulled the band from her ponytail loving the soft shiny hair between his fingers.

“You want champagne love?”

Jamie grabbed the bottle and chocolates, pulled Claire to her feet, and poured two glasses. He could not stop touching her and needed to see her naked. It was two years ago she invaded his space so sweetly and he could not wait any longer. While she stood in front of the mirror, he moved his hands up her body under her nightgown and pinched her nipples slightly. He could see the rosy glow on her cheeks as she pressed back into his chest. He lifted the fabric very slowly in case she pushed back until it was over her head and he was stuck staring at her body. His eyes slowly covered every inch and she watched him look her over, confident in her own skin, aware that he needed this visual experience.

The give and take between them made the night exceptional, sweet, erotic, and satisfying. Her body was so responsive to his touch and that thrilled him. When he dropped to her side, panting for his life, she pushed him onto his back, laid her head on his shoulder, and fell asleep, followed by Jamie a short time later.

Claire was hyper aware of Jamie in her bed all night. She woke up several times and went back to sleep with her hand or arm touching his skin. This gesture was sweet and tender to Jamie as he woke each time she moved, anxious to feel her hands move across his skin again.

The beeping of Jamie’s watch brought them both to consciousness as the morning rays were streaming in the windows. He jumped out of bed worried he was late for his interviews and looked around for his clothes. Claire was on her knees on the bed and spread her arms wide, still half asleep, she wanted a morning hug that made him feel weak. He pulled her close and hugged her, kissing the top of her head and asked how she felt, if she was ready for the day, if she would think of him today, and if he could get her anything. He pushed the hair out of her face and realized she was sleeping, somehow still on her knees.

“Sassenach, do you need to get up?”

She nodded her head yes and held her arms up for another hug which was warmly given.

“Dare I ask if you’re free for dinner tonight?”

“If you can wait until seven o’clock, I would love that.”

“See you at seven then.”

Claire checked her email and was shocked to see a coded message. She sent it to Tom remotely and then read what Javier had to say. ‘Rat found, extermination complete, you are safe. Do you want a new project?’ She sent her response to Tom before sending it to Javier. She passed on the project, wanting more time with Jamie to explore her feelings. She jumped to her feet and danced her way to the shower. It was going to be a great day.

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presssorg · 6 years ago

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Da Vinci fiasco casts glare on opaque art market | Louvre to mark five centuries passing of Leonardo da Vinci with exhibition

Da Vinci fiasco casts glare on opaque art market As the Louvre prepares to mark five centuries since the passing of Leonardo da Vinci with a major exhibition of the Renaissance master’s work, inclusion of the world’s most notorious painting – the Salvator Mundi – is in doubt. The painting of Jesus Christ, which sold in 2017 for an unprecedented sum of $450 million dollars, had been billed by the storied auction house Christie’s as “the last Leonardo.” This description built on credence gained six years earlier when the National Gallery of London unveiled the work to the public as a genuine Da Vinci, ostensibly putting it among the ranks of an exclusive club of some 20 paintings accepted to have been done by the artist’s own hand. The prospect of owning this rare depiction of the Christ, a figure also revered in Islam as a messenger preceding Prophet Mohammed, was enough to drive up bidding to ungodly sums in a matter of minutes. Saudi Crown Prince Mohammed bin Salman is believed to have been behind the gargantuan acquisition, although the Saudi embassy in Washington insisted the buyer was an obscure member of the royal family acting on behalf of the Louvre Abu Dhabi. But what promised to be the jewel in the crown of the interfaith-obsessed Emirati museum never arrived for its promised October 2018 unveiling. Instead, the painting has yet to see the light of day, or at least the glare of the public eye. And that, art experts say, is for a very good reason.

Visitors stand with their mobile phones and smartphones in front of Leonardo da Vinci’s “Mona Lisa” in the Louvre in April 2019. Photo: Sabine Glaubitz/dpa Louvre expo looms The biggest issue at stake, as the Louvre expo looms, is how the Salvator Mundi would be labeled in a charged environment of colliding geopolitics, business interests and reputations at stake. Carmen Bambach of the Metropolitan Museum of Art in New York, one of the foremost scholars of Italian Renaissance art and Da Vinci, believes the master at most carried out minor retouches on the painting, which as a whole she says would have been the work of one of his assistants. Bambach was listed by Christie’s as one of just over a dozen art historians who had been consulted in order to establish “broad consensus that the Salvator Mundi was painted by Leonardo da Vinci.” The Met curator told the Guardian that this was not an accurate representation of her conclusions. Other key Da Vinci experts, notably Oxford University’s Martin Kemp, have thrown their academic weight behind the painting. But art history professor David Nolta of the Massachusetts College of Art says the “reputational damage” to the piece has already been done. “The money is the problem. It’s the reason everyone wants to see it,” he says. “There’s a complete disconnect between value and authenticity. “I don’t think you can show that picture other than as being the most expensive painting in the world. People like myself have serious questions about whether this is a real Leonardo,” Nolta told Asia Times. According to art critic Ben Lewis – whose book The Last Leonardo: The Secret Lives of the World’s Most Expensive Painting seeks to trace Salvator Mundi’s journey – a number of Louvre curators have similar questions. “Sources inside the Louvre attested to me that many Louvre curators don’t think Salvator Mundi is an autographed Leonardo,” he told Asia Times. With that in mind, Lewis says there is the possibility the French may insist that the work is exhibited as the product of the Da Vinci “workshop,” denoting that it was painted largely by the master’s followers. “No one knows whether the Louvre Paris is going to show Salvator Mundi,” Lewis says. “if they do that, it will anoint the picture. If not, I think the picture is condemned.” To show the painting as “Da Vinci workshop” would put its market value close to the lower millions, and $20 million if you are being generous, according to Lewis. “There’s no comparison” between the categories, he says. The stakes and sensitivities are raised due to the relationship between the Louvre in Paris and the announced owner, the Louvre Abu Dhabi. “The Louvre could never risk its reputation by agreeing to modify its art history opinion based on money,” Nolta of MassArt said. If the painting is exhibited as a true Da Vinci, “that’s what it would look like because of its huge price. They could just show it” – without attribution — “but I imagine the buyer is not going to allow anything that makes it look in question.” The era of big-name museums like the Louvre and Guggenheim selling their brands abroad may be headed for a reckoning, he suggests. “This may be a wake-up call — if you’re going to spread your influence that far, you’re going to get into situations where politics play a bigger role than museum studies or art history.” In this case, the connections between the Louvre and its new sister the Louvre Abu Dhabi, and between the crown princes in Abu Dhabi and Riyadh, have put the fate of the painting and the reputations of multiple museums and governments at stake. Amid the fiasco, one would imagine that the previous owner who’d bought the painting for a mere $127.5 million four years prior to reselling it at the record auction would be pleased. But one would be wrong.

Christie’s employees take bids for the Leonardo da Vinci attributed work “Salvator Mundi” at Christie’s New York on November 15, 2017. Photo: Timothy A. Clary / AFP Blue chip blues Russian billionaire Dmitry Rybolovlev was on a quest to build up the perfect art collection for his home in exile when he met Yves Bouvier. Dubbed the “Freeport King,” the Swiss art dealer and shipper had prized inside knowledge of the possessions and liquidations of the world’s stealth wealth, kept in storage in facilities out of the public eye. In theory, he was the ideal link for a private collector in the top 1% looking to accumulate blue chip art. When old money needed cash, and decided to sell a high-value piece, Bouvier began to inform Rybolovlev. The two developed trust, with Bouvier convincing Rybolovlev that in order to keep the prices fair, the Russian oligarch should keep his identity out of the process and go through Bouvier’s Hong Kong-based company. Over the span of a decade, Bouvier facilitated the purchase of millions of dollars worth of art – with a humble stated commission averaging 2%, according to Southern District of New York court filings obtained by Asia Times. The Salvator Mundi, which Rybolovlev purchased in 2013, was to be the “pearl of the collection,” with the perfect combination of personality, intrigue and investment value, according to a source close to the Rybolovlev camp who spoke to Asia Times on condition of anonymity. The main salon of Rybolovlev’s home was prepared to feature the rare work, which had captivated him during a private viewing. Then, by chance, Rybolovlev met the prior owner of one of his paintings at a New Year’s Eve party. The man revealed the price he had sold the piece for – millions less than the price for which Rybolovlev had bought it. It would be the end of his collaboration with Bouvier, and the prod for him to get rid of the now-tainted Da Vinci as fast as he had bought it. A lawsuit brought by two companies owned by Rybolovlev alleges Bouvier included kick-backs as high as 145% in the prices of 38 separate masterworks – representing fraud of more than $1 billion. The scale of the claim helps explain why even the windfall profit Rybolovlev gained from his 2017�� sale of the Salvator Mundi did nothing to dull his fury with Bouvier. The suit further claims that auction house Sotheby’s was in on the fraud, and that its vice chairman for private sales had emailed descriptions of paintings to Bouvier that were intended to be passed on to Rybolovlev. Bouvier in turn would allegedly misrepresent these emails to his client as insider information on high-value works. Sotheby’s in an October 2018 interview with Reuters called the suit a “desperate” one, adding that it would “vigorously defend the company and our employees against these baseless claims.” The murky situation is characteristic of a sector that has “no transparency, almost no regulation and a culture of almost obsessional secrecy,” as Jan Dalley of the Financial Times characterized it following the sale of the Salvator Mundi. “We don’t usually know the names of either buyer or seller in auction transactions, and in private sales not even the price — or indeed whether a sale has taken place at all. There is no register of transactions, or of ownership of works. The term ‘insider trading’ does not apply — in fact you could say that all art trading depends on insider knowledge of some sort,” Dalley wrote at the time. While Rybolovlev wages his crusade in the United States, the heir to a certain Gulf throne may be weighing whether to take matters up with Christie’s over its characterization of the Salvator Mundi. “This would not be the first time a major auction house has the buyer sue over misrepresentation,” said Nolta. “Lawsuits take place even over jewelry.” For the owner of the Salvator Mundi, however, it’s possible there will be enough scholars attesting to the painting’s authenticity that “he chooses not to sue.” Typically, according to the art professor, a buyer and auction house will come to an arrangement outside the public eye. In July 2018, for example, Emirati collector Sultan Sooud Al Qassemi settled a lawsuit with Sotheby’s over a bronze sculpture the auction house catalogue had attributed to Egyptian modernist Mahmoud Mokhtar, although a foundry report provided at the time of sale said it was cast a year after the artist’s death – significantly reducing its worth and meaning. In the end, Al Qassemi said the suit was “amicably settled by the two parties on confidential terms.” “Auction houses are pretty clear about absolving themselves of responsibility in their documentation,” Nolta points out. “The famous phrase is caveat emptor: the buyer has to beware.” He doubts that a leading auction house would lose such a lawsuit. With the amount of cash changing hands, even a significant price reduction for a prized client could mean the auction house comes out on top. Sued by monks The saga of the Salvator Mundi seems only fitting when one considers Da Vinci’s own troubles to keep up with demand during his lifetime. According to Nolta, the master painter frequently ran into problems with patrons over over works that he never finished, or that he was accused of delegating to assistants. Take the Virgin of the Rocks, commissioned for a church in Milan. “The monks said he didn’t paint as much of the picture as he said he would. One of them said he was clearly working with an established Milanese painting firm,” chuckled Nolta. At various stages, Leonardo suffered the plight of a freelancer: “Leonardo was constantly having to beg for money, go to the authorities. He wouldn’t get paid, wouldn’t get paid, go to the patron. Try to get his money back.” Da Vinci found security in his later years at a chateau granted to him by French King Francis I in Amboise in the Loire Valley, passing away there in 1519. France was the final home for the bulk of his paintings and drawings, which in a matter of months will go on display in the Louvre as a grand exhibition. Ahead of the October 2019 – February 2020 exposition, it is confirmed that the Louvre has officially requested a loan of the Salvator Mundi from its partner in Abu Dhabi. What is not known is whether the work can be exhibited in a manner acceptable to the owner, and whether all parties involved, from Paris to Abu Dhabi, can find redemption in its showing. 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