After that I knew there were a lot of stolen Nok pieces that were going to be exhibited at a gallery in London-all worth around $400,000-sold to some of the wealthiest people in the world. I could've easily made a lot of money for myself by approaching the dealer and saying, "Give me 100 grand to keep my mouth shut about where they came from," and I would've gotten it in a nanosecond. But instead I went to the Nigerian embassy and convinced the ambassador there about these stolen Nok pieces.
It may come as a surprise to even the most art-attuned earthlings that the art world actually extends beyond the limits of our home planet. Unknown to many dealers, curators, and other art-loving terrestrials, there is a micro museum on the moon. Conceived of by artist Forrest Myers in 1969, the Moon Museum was established on the lunar surface after works by six contemporary artists arrived with the Apollo 12 mission, the second moon landing. Drawings by Andy Warhol, Robert Rauschenberg, David Novros, Claes Oldenburg, John Chamberlain, and Myers were inscribed onto a ¾-by-½-inch ceramic chip, which then hitched a ride to the moon, covertly affixed to the leg of the Intrepid lunar lander.
But Scotland Yard were onto him, and he was arrested while awaiting delivery of large importation. He skipped bail and fled abroad, fitted out a wooden ketch, loaded it with a ton-and-a-half of cannabis resin and crossed the Atlantic, using a sextant and dead reckoning. He eventually sailed up the Hudson and unloaded to a New York distributor, only to be caught in chase through the streets of Manhattan and sentenced to six years in a penitentiary.
But Scotland Yard were after him, and he was busted while awaiting a big importation. He skipped bail and fled abroad, loaded a ketch with over a ton of Moroccan resin, and crossed the Atlantic using a sextant and dead reckoning. He eventually offloaded to a New York distributor, only to be caught in a chase through Manhattan; he was sentenced to six years in a penitentiary.
Indian Prime Minister Narendra Modi and Australian Prime Minister Tony Abbott talk alongside a statue of the Dancing Shiva ahead of a meeting in New Delhi, 5 September, 2014. The $5 million bronze statue was returned to India from the National Gallery of Australia after it emerged that it had been stolen from a Tamil Nadu temple. PRAKASH SINGH/AFP/Getty Images)
Michel: Well, by the time I was 15 I had been kicked out of seven schools. I must have been ADHD or whatever, because I fucking hated school and was always looking to start something for myself. So I began importing cheap hippie coats from Istanbul. They were basically sheepskins turned inside out with some sleeves on them. I began selling them in this hashish bar in Holland. They sold like fucking hotcakes. So I was going up and down between Istanbul and Holland quite a lot. Business was going well, and I was eventually approached in Istanbul by a man named E.
To be sure, not every work of art legitimately on the market has an extensive paper trail; however, every work of art that was recently looted will certainly lack documentation. Diligent buyers should be attuned to those gaps, particularly for high-value objects, and do their best to verify anecdotal information through independent research. Even if there is no specific record of a work of art, its ownership history may be supported by circumstantial evidence, such as the collecting habits of previous owners, the provenance of comparable objects, or the recollections of trusted experts in the field.

I always faced my problems. You have to show some balls. Funnily enough, a lot of these hitmen, if they are cut from the right cloth, will come to you with a certain respect if you don't hide. When the Yugoslavian mafia were going to kidnap my father and brother for trying to set a sting operation against them, I had to come back to Amsterdam to face it. I said, "OK, come along. If you're going to kill me, kill me. If you want my money, go fuck yourself." That's the language they speak. I was standing with my bodyguards on the terrace in Amsterdam and this car flew past and they started shooting at me. A bullet went straight through my leg.
Morland was heir to a Quaker dynasty and lived a gilded youth: his father was a renowned physician and his mother was a key figure in modern art, friend of George Orwell and Henry Moore. At 6ft 3in tall, good-looking and well-connected, he skied for England, had a beautiful wife and children, a London des-res, a farmhouse in Malta and the world at his feet.
Francis Morland was one of Britain’s most talented young artists, a contemporary of David Hockney and Peter Blake and a leading member of the 1960s “New Generation” movement. At the same time he lived an even more remarkable secret life as the biggest drug trafficker in the UK. He stuffed his abstract sculptures full of Lebanese cannabis to ship to the lucrative American market, moved yachtloads of Moroccan hashish to Europe, and years before Howard Marks, became the country’s first recognised drug baron.
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