All of this was most interesting, especially the fulsome details about the vase's provenance, in view of the fact that among the negatives seized in Geneva, there was one showing the Euthymides amphora broken in pieces and, as Pellegrini's report dryly comments, “not in an institutional setting.”
Following the same methodology, Pellegrini next came across a red-figure Apulian
pelike,
attributed to the Darius Painter, which was acquired by the Getty three years after the Euthymides vase, in 1987. A pelike is a multipurpose amphora with a sagging belly, usually with a wide mouth. Ropes were passed through its handles for lifting. The Darius Painter of the late fourth century BC was active in Apulia, possibly in Tarentum, the modern Taranto, and he was the leading artist of his time. He is named for a monumental krater in the archaeological museum in Naples depicting the Persian king Darius. Instead of always depicting heroes, the Darius Painter was notable for frequentlyâand unusuallyâpainting myths involving
heroines.
On this vase, a good example of his work, Andromeda sits on a throne while Cassiopeia kneels before her, entreating her pardon. Perseus stands on the right and Aphrodite looks on.
Pictures of this pelike were found among the negatives seized in Geneva. Again, in one of these the vase is shown in a showcase in the museum ; it also appears in a Polaroid. The matching documentation, which Pellegrini also found, was particularly revealing. The pelike was apparently acquired from Fritz Bürki, via Atlantis Antiquities, and had never been published before. The paperwork showed that the vase was sent to the Getty together with another red-figure Apulian pelike attributed to the Gravina Painter and a black-figure Attic bowl, attributed to the school of the Lysippides Painter. This portrayed Dionysus and Hercules as revelers with drinking vessels, the latter wearing the skin of the Nemean lion over his shoulders. The presence of the drinking vessels and vines probably alludes to the best-known encounter between Dionysus and Hercules, the drinking contest that Dionysus won with ease. Although the supplier of the pelike was ostensibly Bürki, an error was made in the invoice regarding the price: Bürki had written $45,000, when it should have been $60,000. In order to straighten it out, however, Marion True wrote not to Bürki but directly to Robert Hecht. Much of this documentation, remember, was found in Geneva Freeport, on Medici's premises: a classic triangulation.
Still other documents showed that Bürki had “sold” to the Getty a Lucanian red-figure krater, showing Hermes, Apollo, and Artemis, and attributed to the Palermo Painter, plus a terra-cotta alabastron and an
ariballos
(a small flask for oil, often suspended from the wrist), both of the latter Corinthian. Yet all these objects were among the Polaroids seized from Medici.
More important still, a red-figure kantharos, with masks (of grotesque faces) attributed to the Foundry Painter and with pottery attributed to Euphronios, was also found among the Geneva Polaroids, showing the object before and after its restoration. This vase is a good example of the very high quality of the objects we are discussing in this book. It was the only known example of its type in North America and has no known parallel anywhere in the world. Curator Arthur Houghton, in his appreciation of this kantharos ahead of its acquisition, described it as showing athletes cleaning themselves after exercise. But on either side the kantharos was embellished, and embossed, with masks, one of Dionysus, the god of wine, and the other of a smiling satyr. These relief masks made drinking from the kantharos difficult (a kantharos is a luxury drinking vessel, but
this one was probably never used, being intended instead to serve as a votive offering in a temple or tomb). The cup had been restored from many fragments, some of which were
already in
the Getty. The Foundry Painter, so named after the scene of a bronze foundry on one of his vases in the Berlin Museum for Classical Antiquities, was the strongest member of the workshop of the Brygos Painter.
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The Foundry Painter favored just such scenes as were on this vaseâsymposia, athletics, or combat.
Marion True attributed the pottery of the kantharos to Euphronios for a number of reasons. His signature as potter is known long after he ceased to paint, perhaps after he went blind and instead concentrated on the more tactile potter's craft. Houghton added:
The attribution of the kantharos' potter is very difficult because there is no known parallel for this vase in any collection in the world except for that of the Getty Museum. We have fragments of at least two, and possibly three other kantharoi of the same type.... The fragmentary Getty vase has been attributed by Dyfri Williams of the British Museum to the painter Onesimos. Since the only potter who is known to link the work of the Foundry Painter and Onesimos is Euphronios, and we know also from other fragments in the Getty collection that he potted a number of hitherto-unknown unusual vase shapes, Marion True has attributed the manufacture of the kantharos to his hand.... As mentioned above, the only known parallels for this vase type are in the collection of the Getty Museum, and some of our fragments actually join this cup . . . In addition to its tremendous importance as a vase of hitherto-unknown shape potted and painted by two of the most respected artists of the late archaic period, this kantharos has a significance for the collection of the Getty Museum that it has for no other collection. We have the only other known vases of this type, and their condition is extremely fragmentary. . . . The Bürki kantharos has provided the key to the identification of the potter of this remarkable group of vases.... The cup presents no problem for export. It was in London from 1982 to 1984 with the dealer Robin Symes, then exported to Switzerland to Fritz Bürki and Son in Zurich. The vase is said to have been purchased originally from the
Swiss market. . . . It was attributed to the Foundry Painter by Dr. Robert Guy of Princeton when it was in the possession of Robin Symes, and Guy has discussed with us the remarkable importance of the vase shape. . . . There is no market price that is truly comparable because there is no similar vase known. We purchased in 1983 approximately 2/5 of a large kylix signed by the potter Euphronios and painted by Onesimos for $180,000. Although the shape and decoration of the vase are quite different, the price gives a fair description of the value of an unusual vase from the artists of the Euphronian circle.
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It was bought from Bürki for $200,000.
A tripod, a candelabrum, a red-figure amphora, an Apulian pelike, a black-figure Attic bowl, a Corinthian alabastron and a Corinthian ariballos, a red-figure kantharosâeight beautiful, rare, valuable objects, for each of which the documentation in the Freeport was the same: photographs of the antiquities at various stages of their journey from the ground of Italy to display in the Getty, from dirty and encrusted fragments to the restored and polished ensembles that the public sees in the showcases. The pattern was consistent for all of the forty-two objects the Getty acquired (see the Dossier for a full list).
Every single one of these forty-two antiquities was important, in the sense that they were all by definition of museum quality. Some of the vase shapes were unique, the only known examples of their kind; all were by major vase painters and were valued collectively at millions of dollars. Between 1983 and 2000, the Getty published six volumes of
Greek Vases in the J. Paul Getty Museum
, which purported to be a reputable academic publication. In fact, it was an ostensibly reputable academic publication that dealt in considerable detail with loot. There is probably no equivalent in the history of antiquities scholarship that has so betrayed its high ideals.
One of the most important objects in the Getty, which Medici handled and which reveals most about the activities of the Los Angeles museum
in this field, was a splendid red-figure Attic kylix, made between 490 and 480 BC by Euphronios and decorated by Onesimos. Because these two artists were among the greatest known in the ancient world, this kylix is, therefore, directly comparable to the krater acquired by the Metropolitan Museum in New York in 1972 (see the Prologue). The subject of the Metropolitan's Euphronios vase was the death of Sarpedon. In this myth, taken from Homer's
Iliad
, Sarpedon, a hero of the Trojan War, is killed by the spear of an enemy warrior. The subject of the Getty's Euphronios-Onesimos kylix is a related theme, Iliupersis, or the sack of Troy, the central event in the Trojan War, and there are many scenes from this episode on Greek vases. The Italians had had their eye on the kylix for some time.
As Pellegrini pieced together the story, it emerged that the Getty had acquired the cup, in fragments, over a number of years in the 1980s. These fragments, it was said in the documents, were bought “on the European art market” and were published in the
Getty Museum Journal
as well as in
Greek Vases in the J. Paul Getty Museum,
which went through several volumes. By studying these publications, Pellegrini and others in Italy were able to establish that the first nucleus of fragments was bought in 1983, with others added in 1984 and 1985. In 1991, Dyfri Williams, head of the Greek and Roman Department of the British Museum and a noted expert on Attic ceramics, published the kylix in volume five of
Greek Vases
. Among other things, he said in an addendum that, in November 1990, he had seen a photograph of another fragment of the kylix. He said that this other fragment formed part of the edge of the vessel and was itself divided into three pieces. All this was, let us say,
untidy
. If three fragments existedâsomewhereâand had been photographed, why were they not in the Getty
with
the rest of the object? What was going on?
Some light was thrown on the situation in 1993, when, in an official excavation, the Archaeological Superintendency for Southern Etruria discovered an impressive building for a cult in the S. Antonio area of Cerveteri. The cult was dedicated to Hercules and it was as certain as could be that the kylix (if not the Metropolitan's krater) had come from there. For a start, there was writing on the kylix that suggested this: a dedication, in Etruscan, to “Ercle,” the Etruscan form of “Hercules.”
Following this discovery, the Italians began to put pressure on the Getty to return the kylix, but the seizure of the Medici material in Geneva closed this particular circle. For among the photographs seized in Corridor
17, there was a whole raft of incriminating material. There was, to begin with, a color photograph of the
tondo
, the central round fragment that formed the base of the cup. There were also professional black-and-white photographs of the same piece, which may have been used to propose the object to the museum. Then there was a photograph of the last fragment that the Getty acquired and of the fragment(s) that the Getty never purchased but which Dyfri Williams wrote about. Finally, there was a photograph of the restored kylix
with
the last fragments that had reached the Getty. What was especially revealing about the Polaroid of the tondo was some writing on the margin, which read: “Prop. P. G. M.” The object had been “Proposed to the Paul Getty Museum.”