To See is Not to Notice the Obvious

Roman Hallowe liked to think of himself as the ultimate collector. There wasn’t a single gallery that had been able to protect itself from his…let’s call it talent. 

Because that was the way Roman’s head was wired; his skills were God given, how could he ignore them? 

And after his last heist up in Northern Canada, where he managed to snag a once in a lifetime piece by none other than Paul Cezanne, his skills felt more perfected than ever. Of course, it had all gone rather smoothly. He went in, averted the security, took the canvas, and walked right out. But a new opportunity had yet to present itself to him. A new chance to take something big, one of a kind. 

There had been a few small conventions scattered across the country in the past few weeks, each hosting hundreds of local paintings made by hundreds of local artists. But that didn’t interest Roman. To him, the value of an artwork lay within the name it held, because chances were, that if he’d never heard the name of a local artist named Annalise Deviet, not many people would either. A small town painting wouldn’t sell for much, and his customers paid him millions for just a single canvass. Once it was theirs, whatever they did with it was not his concern anymore. He did what he did for the money–if someone else cared so much about paint on a board, so be it.

Let them pay a stupidly ridiculous amount for it. 

He was browsing online to see if there were any conventions being held around the area. Prowling the web, on the hunt for mentions of any famous loans on display at museums or art conventions, he scoured post through post, eager to find a new opportunity. It took a few hours of scrolling and clicking but eventually he found word that a loan by a newly famous artist, Richard Bassett, was going to be on display at the DePaul Art Museum of Chicago. Richard Bassett was not an ancient artist, because although he was said to have been a bit old, his art was only surfacing just now. Roman wasn’t sure why but there had been a few mentions of the words abstract, juxtaposition and depth.

Whatever that meant.

But apart from that, although various attempts had been made to steal his work, nobody had ever managed to do it successfully. Roman wanted to prove them wrong. If he could steal a guarded Paul Cezanne piece, Robert Bassett was a piece of cake.

He found out that the first showcase of this art, a piece entitled There Goes the Moon, was tonight, at eight p.m, and ended at eleven. After that, it was lights out in the museum, and in would go Roman to take the painting. He’d put it on his website, get some rich man to buy it, rinse and repeat. That was his job. And looks like it was time to get to work. 

~~~~

Roman made it to the museum at midnight. The night was dark, the stars twinkled above his head when he got past the gate and began to stalk his way around the building, avoiding the cameras he had previously marked on a map. This way he got around without ever being spotted. No proof, no crime. 

Once he found a window with no direct access to any camera inside or outside, he cracked it open and slipped inside, looking around the displays around him. There were ancient, worn down artifacts encased in glistening glass that shone in the moonlight seeping in through the even shinier windows. He caught a metal strip spark at an angle and he squinted to see what it said: “Don’t touch the glass.” 

He snorted. How crazy it was that some people would go so far as to touch the crystal barrier, as if that would get them any closer to the object trapped inside. It took a while of sneaking around the cameras and staying undetected, before he found the near empty room where the Robert Bassett painting was encased. It was hung on the far wall of the room, the walls on either side of him were adorned with some other paintings from some other, lesser known artists. He overlooked them and made his way to the front of the room, where the painting was encased in its own little crystal cage. He decided it would be easy to break and made for it when a voice echoed from behind him. He froze. 

“The museum is quite beautiful after hours, isn’t it, young man? I assume that’s why you’re here.” The voice came from an old, creaky looking man, who wobbled as he made his way to the front of the room. 

Roman was stunned. This couldn’t be a guard. Just some lost old man. Easy to get rid of. 

“This painting is one of my favorites.” The ancient soul went on. “I think it really does enrapture the true essence of abstract beauty.” The man nodded towards the painting and Roman reluctantly followed his gaze. For once, he actually took the time to look at the art he stole. To look at the meaning engraved into each delicate fiber of the canvas. 

The painting was that of a moon. But the moon was warped, disheveled.  And yet, when placed beside the sun in the painting, it was still oddly…beautiful. There was something about the way the brush strokes captured each and every groove, shadow, and spark the moon had to offer. And even though it was warped and did not hold a shape even remotely resembling a sphere, one could still tell it was a moon. It held the beauty of it: the scars of eternal lifetimes and yet had the glow of a million youths. 

Roman stuttered. “I…yeah, I guess it does.” 

“I’d hate for you to get into any trouble, young man, so I’d advise you to leave. Maybe come see the painting in daylight.”

Roman took a step back and shot a sullen glance at the painting before turning around and giving the man a nod. He left. But fully intended to come back and simply steal it tomorrow. 

~~~~

Roman kept his promise. He went back to the museum and he snuck in the same way, deftly avoiding the probing eyes of the cameras around him, before finding his way back to that barren room. The painting was still there but with the absence of the old man. Quickly, he made a dart for it, getting closer than he did last night. He reached up to the corner of the class case but a throaty cough made him freeze, then slump in irritation. He spun and the man was there again, holding a smile with trembling lips, wrinkled and soft with old age. 

He was beginning to get increasingly annoyed. This man always had to come up and interrupt him while he was trying to take the painting. It was beginning to become a struggle to pull off something that Roman was once able to to so swiftly. And he'd never admit it, but maybe he was losing his edge.

“Why hello, there, young man. A pleasure to see you again. I was hoping to run into you. I thought I could show you around the museum. There are many more paintings you should look at. They are all equally beautiful as this one, although I can understand your interest in this one. It’s quite the spectacle isn’t it?” 

Roman gave him a forced smile. “Yes. It is.” 

The man turned around and indicated for him to follow. “Come along, young man. This museum is too much of a haven for you to look at only one painting.” 

Roman suppressed a sigh and contemplated knocking the old man out. It would be quick and he’d be awake by the time Roman was long gone. But the man had already taken to the right of the hall and Roman had to hurry to follow along. He caught up with the man in another room, with yet another painting inside another glass casing. This one was of a boy, his hands were in his hair, and in front of him, lay a bunch of paper. It took a close look to realize they were educational: essays, tests, and worksheets and that the boy was a student. He looked disheveled, and in the background, there were two sets of eyes that stared at the boy with such intensity Roman's breath caught in his throat. He could almost feel the expectation and scorn coming through them. How could someone capture such emotion through paint?

“Tell me, boy. What do you see?” 

It took a second before Roman came to his senses and realized the man was talking to him. 

“Pressure?”

“Elaborate.”

“It’s just…as if the boy is bending underneath the pressure of being a good student. As if he's finally cracked under the pressure to be perfect.” 

“Exactly.” The old man gave him another wobbly smile and placed a hand on Roman’s shoulder. “Now, do you see why people come to see art? It holds depth, emotion and knowledge. This is raw talent, don’t you see? Art like this takes time to master. That is where the true worth of this painting is stored.”

Roman was rendered speechless. He risked another glance at the portrait and the truth was, he saw it. He understood what the man was talking about. “Yeah. I guess it is.”  

“Tell you what. Tomorrow is the last day of this art convention. I want you to come and take a look at the exhibits. I’ll be waiting.” 

The old man left Roman to exit and he made a stop by the long room with the Robert Bassett painting. He was almost tempted to go in and snatch it, now that the old man had left him alone, but he found himself staring at the painting instead, half fascinated and half frustrated at himself for not going up and taking it. His fingers twitched but he forced them to stop, and this time, before leaving, he made a different promise to himself. 

He’d be back tomorrow morning. 

~~~~

Roman was standing near the entrance when the old man approached him, all warm smiles and quick blinks. 

“I’m so glad you could make it young man.” He said in his withered voice that Roman finally noticed came laced with so much wisdom. “Come with me.” 

The man led him to the long room with the moon painting and walked them both up to the very front. From here, Roman would have been itching to take it, but instead he turned and looked at the man, expectant. 

“I knew you wanted to steal this,” the man said, his voice eerily calm. “But I’ve dealt with many of your kind. Thieves, burglars, crooks. I’ve seen it all, but the thing is, they haven’t. I opened their eyes, just as I opened yours. That is why my paintings have never been stolen.”

Roman’s brows furrowed. “Your paintings?”

The man offered him a wider smile than any of the others he’d gifted Roman with. “My name is Robert Bassett.”

The puzzle pieces clicked in Roman’s head and his eyes widened.

“You’re the creator of this painting?”

“That I am. I also know what you do, but not why you do it. That is why I stopped you. You, young man, have a lot of potential, but stealing is not where it’s at.”

Roman tried to force words out of his mouth but the shock made his tongue numb. He should have been angry at the man. This scheme was a waste of time and potential money, but his brain had been rewired. How could he steal this man’s work when it conveyed so much more than Roman ever could? 

“I hope you take this experience with you.” The man said, and he was already turning away and walking out. “To see is not to notice the obvious, but to understand what is hidden inside. Now that’s a lesson worth taking. ”