STOLEN ART
I have the dubious honour, alongside Michelangelo, van Gogh and other great masters, of having had one of my paintings stolen.
In 2014 I gifted an oil painting of St Mary's Church in Beverley, Yorkshire, to the vicar in gratitude for the pastoral care she and her team had given to my mother in her residential care home. The painting was displayed splendidly in the crypt of the church.
Later, my painting became the subject of a news story that, at the time, was part of a nationwide concern with the plights of the homeless and the issue of access to places of sanctuary.
A homeless man had been living in the churchyard at St Mary's for some months. As winter started to take its toll the man went into the church, always kept open durng the day, to keep warm. Coming across my painting, he perhaps saw an opportunity to find a meal as well. Putting the painting under his arm he walked out of the church and set off to the town square where the Saturday market was in full swing.
Attempting to sell the painting to a stallholder he was of course immediately rumbled. It was when the case was brought to court that the local newspaper took up the story.
The story was, indeed, bizarre. I was interviewed by the newspaper and likened it to a plotline from The Archers, the long-running popular and quintessentially English radio serial about the everyday, but not so ordinary, lives of village residents.
But it was not the issue of art being stolen from the open arms of a local church that concerned me the most. That was indeed a serious matter for the diocese as the powers that be debated the wisdom of leaving so-called 'treasures' exposed while still trying to maintain a Christian spirit of welcoming to all-comers.
The issues of Brexit, migrant populations, mutual trust and openness were raw at the time, often stimulated by unfounded fears in a divided and inequitable society. I had my own concern for the plight of the man who, for whatever reason, had found himself at the lowest point of his life and had been driven to steal, from albeit an easy picking, to gain some relief for the day.
He was summoned to appear in front of a magistrate but failed to turn up to court on the day. When he did finally attend he explained that, on his way to court that day, he came upon a homeless woman begging in the street and gave her all the money he had, an amount that would have been his bus fare.
Perhaps his fear of admonishment from the magistrate was outweighed by his compassion for a fellow sufferer of the raw winter chill. I like to think so.