ArtVan

Author’s First Note to Readers and Other Characters:

The title of this story was taken from a group in Crossroads, Maine. The group…

I didn’t want to seem to be plagiarizing their name, but rather am paying tribute to them for inspiring an interest in art among young people. Who can criticize what they do? 

Their website says: “A Mobile Art Therapy Nonprofit in Maine. Established in 2004, ArtVan offers a safe, feedback-oriented environment for youth ages 3 to 17 and adults who may benefit from strengths-based art therapy. At no cost to families, ArtVan empowers youth to safely manage emotional expression and engage in the larger community.”

Nice.

The Story and the Struggle

I need to pull off this heist, or they’ll never let me into the gremio, cofradía, the guild of which they’re all so proud to be members

It isn’t easy, despite what you might think. Sure, this is a small place, around 25,000 people, with a cultured atmosphere given it by the private college, but its museums are not well protected. So they say. It probably would have been a good idea to verify that before I accepted this assignment. I was too anxious about never getting in to be patient, I suppose.

We all have to start somewhere, they say. This is, technically, my first heist. The other things were little and close to worthless. A sticker off a cereal box when I was five. (My mother made me return it.) A book or two from one of those Little Free Libraries. Some marbles from my cousin’s huge collection. (I made sure the few I took were duplicates or triplicates.) Note I admitted the things were worthless, including the cat’s-eye marbles, the clear ones that are a dime a dozen.

In the interest of transparency, I should tell you where I was mulling this all over and what museum I was planning to rob. However, in the interest of sanity and safety (mine), I’m going to keep that information to myself. Actually, no, I want you to know because you’ll figure it out when you hear more about the item I was planning to get my hands on.

This was the situation, as I saw it when trying to choreograph my move:

The museum was surprisingly large, almost rambling; from the exterior, the underground salons with their collections were not noticeable. People knew they were there, and guards were assigned to the areas just like on the other two floors. That said, the museum that concerned me gave the impression that it was average-sized. The Woodburn Museum and the one named Chamberlain, after a Revolutionary - or Civil? - war hero, were more portly. I know that’s not what you usually call buildings, but Woodburn and Chamberlain stood a quarter of a mile apart, facing the Crashing Rock River. 

The first housed exhibits of historic Crossroads, replete with furniture, tools, apparel, and so many objects that one left it dizzy. The second was a whole show of transportation and travel routes for the whole state. The displays had items from indigenous groups until today. Some people like those sorts of things, but I never even liked toy trains as a kid.

Anyway, ‘my’ museum - its real name was the Beecher Stowe - is humbly dedicated to handicrafts of Maine, which of course came from many places, but were still handicrafts, manualidades, if you like. I personally prefer artesanias, because that includes crafts as well as handicrafts, maybe in a folk style or maybe more elaborate and sophisticated. They are as much art as paintings by Monet and Miró. 

I’m going these details because it’s important for you to know what I was up against.

I was to make off with the piece known as the Châtelon Lace. That sounds French to me, but maybe it was from Montreal or Quebec, not France itself. The lace had been in Crossroads for at least two centuries, probably more. It had surfaced in an estate sale, a house on Lincoln Street. It had immediately been acquired by the Beecher Stowe and put in a central space for visitors to admire and wonder about it. Researchers even came to study the technique, the material (linen or cotton thread), the provenance. They had tried to delve into the estate’s family, but there was nothing available.

Thus, my museum might have seemed much humbler than its robust colleagues, but remember the extensive subterranean displays - you’ll hear more about them in a minute - and above all do not underestimate the drawing power of the Châtelon. It was my task to remove it from its case and present it to the elite members of the Small World Guild. I know I forgot to tell you the name earlier, but you would have laughed. The name sounds frivolous, but it’s intended that way to throw investigators off their trail. Which makes sense. Nobody will take an association of the best art thieves seriously if what they aspire to is ‘small stuff’. 

Those are the ones who overlook the fact that a ‘small world’ might be the perspective of robbers who can get into any museum or collection and take anything they want. It’s all ‘small stuff’ because no robbery is too difficult. If they want something, they can always pull off the heist. They could have carried off the Châtelon in a heartbeat. Which is why they assigned it to me as entry requirement.

Unless they knew how hard it really was going to be. Let me describe the situation and my approach to it:

The lace sits in the center of a room, surrounded by paragraphs on lace-making, on how this particular piece came to light, and where it could have come from. There are also three photographs, blown up, of the stitches. Or maybe there are four. Or five. I can’t recall. There being no way to remove the lace from its case, I need to involve a director or curator, have them remove it.

Then I can ask some intelligent questions about it, having done my homework. It really is a work of art. Was more than one pair of eyes ruined in the course of its confection? Perhaps. 

I am left alone for seconds when some minor disturbance is occurring in a nearby corridor. I can have an assistant release a pigeon or a squirrel, both of which will scramble wildly - and noisily - to get out. Maybe one of each will be even better. 

While the animals are being pursued, I will switch my version of the lace for the original. It’s the easiest and most logical method: place a fake in the place of the authentic item. In this case, I will need to use an equivalent thread and stitches. This piece was made with bobbins, it appears. Those are not easy to come by nowadays.

To reproduce the stitches, it will be necessary to find an instruction manual for bobbin lace, plus the actual pattern.

It’s clear that my colleagues in thievery know this is a challenge. Maybe they know it will be both time-consuming and costly. Plus, it is very likely that I’ll need to learn French and Italian, maybe some German, because I know those are countries where this handicraft was very important. Language classes are expensive.

I really want to be a member of Small World. What a feather in my cap! My family will be so proud of me. I know I can do this. The sacrifice is worth it.

Author’s Second Note:

This plan and the organization it was going to require to achieve the goal took place two months ago. Below is how it all turned out.

I have thought everything over and calculated the cost in money as well as time. Frankly, I don’t possess the necessary amount of either. I am also concerned about two things.

First, what if the Châtelon gets damaged in the switch or in my transporting it to the others? That would be terrible. Such a work of art, still to a great extent surrounded by mystery, needs to be protected, not shuffled here and there. It would be tragic if it were to emerge from the depths of an attic trunk to be jostled and torn by thieves. Would-be thieves. 

Second, what are my colleagues of the Great Guild going to do with it? Sell it? Throw it into a closet as an odd bit of women’s craft, flimsy and fragile? It’s probably not worth much. Yes, that’s more likely. It’ll get shunted aside, lost, definitely forgotten.

That’s outrageous! They can’t have it! It’s mine! And if it’s mine, I’m not going to let them touch it. The Châtelon Lace must remain where it is.

I’m going to make sure of it. Maybe I’ll join the ArtVan people, whose website also states that “We're celebrating twenty years of keeping the arts rolling with the communities we serve throughout 2024. Special events, such as its Artful Autumn Gala, spring Art Exhibit, and regular ArtBars, are all ways we look forward to engaging with new and old supporters.”

That sounds a lot safer than trying to please the big names in the Small World Guild. They’d have no idea of how lovely the lace is.