Art and Craft

Directors: Sam Cullman, Jennifer Grausman and Mark Becker

If an unethical act doesn't qualify as a crime though said act causes a certain measure of harm to others, then to what extent can a person be deemed "guilty?" Directors Sam Cullman, Jennifer Grausman and Mark Becker think the question worthy of reflection in their fascinating documentary Art and Craft. But though the question is of paramount importance, it remains a peripheral concern because the real subject of the film is the strange but extraordinary art forger Mark Landis. The film could better be categorized as a portrait (no pun intended) of a man who feels little remorse and no sense of criminality for his forgeries--at least as much as we can discern from observed behavior.

Landis is an excellent subject for a documentary; his motivations for what he does are legion but also opaque. As a diagnosed schizophrenic (among other trace psychological conditions), it is safe to say Landis' view of what he does is partly shaped by his mental illness. While there are many who dupe dealers and collectors with bogus art for profit, Landis may be the only forger who donates his forgeries philanthropically. After copying classics with extraordinary precision and care with art materials found at the local Hobby Lobby, Landis then presents his works to museums around the U.S. It is astonishing to see the list of reputable art museums who have benefitted from his "largess."

We learn much about his life, particularly his relationship with his mother. Her passing was a loss from which Landis has yet to recover. We also learn about the origins of his craft, which arose when the young Landis was left alone in hotel rooms with art books and drawing materials while his parents attended parties.

It would be foolhardy to attribute Landis' gifts to pure philanthropic zeal. He shares a story about a streak of mischief in his youth; of which his mother was well aware. As we see him visit museums, sometimes in disguise; we can assume his delight in making more mischief has hardly ebbed.

Though many museums were duped into accepting his forgeries, a former FBI agent refuses to categorize Landis' donations as a crime. Because he asks for no monetary remuneration for his work, he is cleared from any criminal wrongdoing.

Of course many of those deceived don't share the agent's perspective. One victim, a former registrar for a Cincinnati museum named Matthew Leininger, spends his his post-museum life obsessively tracking Landis' forgeries. The film presents Landis and Leininger as mouse and cat. It is almost inevitable that the two adversaries will meet and they do at a university exhibition of the forger's work. It is interesting to note that Leininger has his own mental issue--OCD--which creates a kind of psychological bond between the hunter and hunted one might normally find in a noir thriller.

Cullman, Grausman and Becker can be commended for finding a documentary subject no screenwriter could dream up. As much as we learn about Landis, we're left with a universe of puzzles to sort out, many of which the filmmakers wisely leave unaddressed and unsolved. Landis' motivations are also left for audience conjecture--an approach that makes for an engaging docu-mystery.

Though attendees at the university exhibition--Leininger among them--exhort Landis to pursue his own art, we don't believe for a moment he will do anything of the sort. The final shot in the film may corroborate that claim. Of course it's also possible the film will grant Landis a modicum of fame (or infamy), thus denying him further opportunities for deception. We shall see.