On the Artist in Society

Tonight, I had the opportunity to see the first of 8 films offered as a series on the artist in society at Princeton Public Library, and I enjoyed the first immensely. I’m not sure if one can describe the following discussion of the film as spoilery, but be warned that I discuss the entirety of the film’s impact on me below, no holds barred.

Art and Craft is a documentary about Mark Landis, a schizophrenic, compulsive art forger and philanthropy addict. He’s a fascinating figure, but only one of a few fascinating figures in the film. The site for the film synopsizes as follows (emphasis mine):

“Mark Landis has been called one of the most prolific art forgers in US history. His impressive body of work spans thirty years, covering a wide range of painting styles and periods that includes 15th Century Icons, Picasso, and even Walt Disney. And while the copies could fetch impressive sums on the open market, Landis isn’t in it for money. Posing as a philanthropic donor, a grieving executor of a family member’s will, and most recently as a Jesuit priest, Landis has given away hundreds of works over the years to a staggering list of institutions across the United States. But after duping Matthew Leininger, a tenacious registrar who ultimately discovers the decades-long ruse and sets out to expose his philanthropic escapades to the art world, Landis must confront his own legacy and a chorus of museum professionals clamoring for him to stop.“

On art and originality

The film explores the question, subtly, of whether a forged copy of a piece of art is art itself. I believe that the film’s stance is that it is very much so, and I believe I agree. Mark is an amazing draftsman, a master forger, and both a recluse and a social butterfly. He is certainly an artist of the highest caliber, even if the work is not original. In one portion of the movie when he faces his fans and critics, he is repeatedly asked why he does not do original work with his masterful skills, but the film shows the obviously missed point: The reason for the bit of fame he has is in the deception of it. His original work, such as the rendering of his beloved mother, has very little to offer in terms of originality or insight. It’s just a nice picture. Art gains value because of persona. Major questions also arise about the ethics of what he does: He donates, rather than sells, the forged works. In the final part of the film, we learn that Mark is looking to forge stolen works and use his priest persona (one of many) to give the masterfully forged works to the owners as though from penitent thieves, and my own question is what is the harm in that? If it returned some joy to the robbed, then what is at loss? If the owner who lost the work wants the work back (and not the monetary value of it) then are they not made whole?

On sickness and madness

Mark is an alcoholic, has several illnesses including schizophrenia, obsessive compulsive disorder, and related ills. And yet, I personally felt that Matthew, who is obsessed with Mark’s forgeries is not only derailing his life with his focus on Mark, but also passing on his illness to his daughter. I asked in the Q & A after the film which of the figures, Mark or Matt, was more tragic, and the answer from co-director Jennifer Grausman was that they were both kind friends, fine people, who both felt very good about their role in this effort. In my opinion, Mark is heroic (Quixotic?), and Matt is tragic. The sad reality of the film is that Mark has triumphant, funny moments throughout, and Matt is just sad, obsessed to the point of job dismissal, and a bit toxic, due to his anger. Still, the framing and editing of film paints a picture that may not exist in reality. This is the plot of this film though. A question was raised in the Q&A after the film about the potential effect of the film on Mark, and it was said that the filmmakers were “concerned for his health”, but that he came to showings, and enjoyed the reaction of the audiences.

On the irony of a curated show on Landis’ forgery

In about the middle of the film, it’s revealed that there is going to be a show of Landis’ forgeries. Matt celebrates the show as a revelation of a sham, but everyone else seems to treat it as fascination and celebration of Mark’s genius. Mark agrees to appear at the opening for the show, and Matt sees it as an opportunity to confront him. It is an electric, uncomfortable moment in the movie that seems to be lost on Mark, and a disappointment for Matt. Matt is critical and overbearing in the reception, and Mark asks Matt at one point “Are there any nice people here?” It is fun, cringeworthy stuff. The gentle way in which the curators treat the forgeries is delicious. They use all of the care that they might handle the Mona Lisa with in arranging and examining the work. There are UV lights, white gloves, and care given in equal measure to pieces that Mark throws about with no care at all. The juxtaposition of those ideas shows the genius of the film’s editing.

On the state of mental health care

Part of the documentary is Mark’s madness. His working through his mother’s 2 year-old death, his father’s dismissal, his creation and manipulative use of a non-existent sister, his role-playing as a priest to manipulate the kindness of others, and his deceptive puppetry of Matt and others. In the film, he visits with case workers and nurses who seem to be adverse to his care, ignoring his state, and pushing him through a system that is clearly uncaring and not working.

On the film itself, and the series

The film is beautifully directed, edited, and told. The interspersion of classic film clips that explain Mark’s thinking, the painful way in which Matt’s madness is exposed, and the tale of the difference between art and craft are all done in a spectacular way. Anyone remotely interested in mental health, the “art world”, or craftsmanship should run to see this movie. I especially appreciate the series being offered on the next seven Mondays at 7pm at Princeton Public Library on the Artist in Society. The discussion is necessary, the films are brilliantly curated, and the work of a contemporary library is to expand the minds of its patrons. PPL is doing that. Special thanks to Janie Hermann and Susan Conlon for their curation and arrangement to bring this work, and its creators, to our attention.