UNCLAIMED TREASURE

Have you ever been so passionate about something that you could commit a crime? Well, I have. I never intended to commit a crime. It just happened. I am not sad that my judgement was led astray by my passion but I am sad at the outcome of it all. When opportunity presented itself, I did not think about what was the right or wrong thing to do. I took the opportunity with intoxicated desire. My story therefore, is not a happy one. It is one which tells of my eventual descent into crime and, by unimaginable carelessness, of my unclaimed treasure.

I could hardly believe my luck when I read about a collection of Monet’s paintings being on loan to the National Gallery of Victoria. I worship Monet’s paintings and I was not going to miss this one chance of a lifetime. I instantly made up my mind to attend the exhibition. The newspaper article reported that fifty masterpieces were coming from ‘The Musee Marmottan Monet’ of Paris and several more from private collections all around the world. I also read that early photographs of the artist and his garden would be displayed on a huge screen. This was exciting and thrilling news. I knew that more than anything else in the world, I had to see those Monet paintings and photographs.

I have adored Claude Monet’s paintings for most of my life. I love the way he painted light. I love the bold colours he used. I love the way he could capture a fleeting moment of time in his paintings. I love his flowers. Their exquisite beauty and colour are great masterpieces of style and skill. In my mind’s eye I can see the dazzling blue of the iris, the reflections in the ponds of the water lilies and his charming cottage garden. All of his paintings, so beautifully executed, have a mirage like quality about them. You can see light rippling and shimmering as he washes the paint across the canvas.

As I boarded the train at Sydney’s Central Station, I could hardly contain my excitement. My mind was fully occupied on the long train journey and time flew quickly. After the train pulled into Flinders Street Station, I made my way quickly to the room in the hotel…..my home for the next three days. That night, I hardly had a wink of sleep because of what I was about to see. I had only ever dreamed about seeing these painting and never imagined that I ever would see the ‘real thing.’ Rising early the next morning, I quickly made my way to the National Gallery. I could feel the intensity of my excitement building as I neared the entrance. At last I would be viewing the masterpieces that I have admired and loved for so long.

As I stepped into the gallery, I was absolutely overwhelmed. I was in the presence of the master. The paintings were more magnificent and magical than I could have ever imagined…..the haystacks, the windswept cliffs, the snow, the flowers, the figures in the landscapes and the vivid gardens. At last I was viewing what I had only seen in books. As I studied the vibrant blue of the Iris, Monet’s words came swirling in my ears. “I must have flowers always and always.” I stood for a long time trying to absorb the beauty, the spirituality and the atmosphere created between colour and light. How I wanted to touch the painting, to feel the paint strokes but I daren’t. I was so mesmerised that I was not aware of other people around me. I was lost in the present moment and happy in a world of my own.

The photographic exhibition was wonderful. Early black and white photos from the late 19^th and early 20^th century made me think of Monet and what privilege it was for me to understand a little of his life in his garden. When I viewed these photographs, I could hear Claude Monet saying “My garden is my most beautiful masterpiece.” These evocative images were intensely beautiful and emotional for me. I cannot remember how long or how many times I wandered around the paintings and photographs in the gallery but I can remember that I kept coming back to look at the Iris painting. I was fascinated by it……no…… hypnotised by it. I was standing in front of the painting when I suddenly realised that no-one was around. I was by myself and tempted……tempted to touch the paint and strokes. The next thing that I remember is taking the painting off the wall, removing the frame, rolling the canvas and placing it in my bag before replacing the empty frame back onto the wall.

As nonchalantly as I could, I made my way to the exit and left the gallery and hurried back to my room thinking, “I cannot believe that I could be so brazen to do what I did and in broad daylight but it was so easy.” I could hardly wait to lock the door and gaze upon my masterpiece. I held the canvas up against the wall admiringly and imagined how it would look in my bedroom back in Sydney. It was exquisite. I was jubilant. I possessed a Monet. It was a shameful theft that I committed but I did not think or care of what may be the consequences.

I knew that I could not return to the gallery but I was happy as I viewed my painting privately for the rest of my stay in Melbourne. I only left the room to buy food and always had the painting in my possession. I was very possessive and could not leave “my Iris” alone in the room. For the remaining days in that room my whole character changed. I could not sleep and I felt tired and worn out. I was suspicious of everyone around me. Their looks told me that they knew I had the painting. It was a nerve wracking time. I could hardly wait till I boarded the train. I wanted to be home where my treasure would be safe and where I could relax. Only then would my life be back to normal.

Finally, my painting and I boarded the train to Sydney. I was happy and felt safe that my crime was not discovered. I placed the bag containing the painting on the floor of the train next to my feet. I settled myself by the window watching the sheep and trees in the fields race by. As I was very tired from my lack of sleep, the movement of the train eventually lulled me into a deep sleep. I must have slept for several hours because I awoke just as the train was pulling into Central Station. Sleepily, I grabbed my bag and made my way home.

Nervously, I opened the bag to view my painting only to discover that I had picked up the wrong bag. You cannot imagine how I felt. My head was spinning. Hot tears were burning my flushed cheeks. I was devastated. However, after a few deep breaths my head started to clear and I could think logically about my situation, I raced to the telephone to ring the railway station’s lost property office. “Yes the bag which you describe has been handed in.” My heart sang with joy when I heard these words only to be dashed when I heard the next part of the sentence, “but it has been taken to the police station for collection.” I wept bitter tears. “My Iris” could not be mine because of my own carelessness.

Deep in my anguished heart, I knew that my bag would always remain unclaimed along with my treasure…… my beautiful blue Iris…… my Monet. In my frustrated and tormented state, I could hear another of Monet’s famous quotes ringing in my head over and over and I knew exactly what he meant. “Colour is my daylong obsession, joy and torment.”